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Corporate Greed Knows No Bounds (Multi-Cross Quest)
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Intro - A Mistake Is Made
Mingo
Son of a Hazmot
- Joined
- Apr 30, 2020
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The starship Gilded Caravan cut through the heart of deep space, it's exterior a sleek silver masterpiece, a testament to the company's commitment to appearances. However, the interior of the ship told a different story. The corridors were dimly lit, with panels that flickered intermittently and machinery that groaned with age. Corporate policy dictated that parts were only to be replaced when they were on the verge of failure, creating an atmosphere of barely maintained functionality.
Not exactly a stress-free workplace.
The bridge crew of the Gilded Caravan was a testament to the diversity of the Hub, the primary universe in which the company operated in. Aliens of all shapes and sizes manning their stations and seated in the center of the room was the ship's first officer, a human, Commander Rip Smiley. Wearing a leather jacket that didn't fully cover up the myriad scars and tattoos adorning his dark skin, Rip exuded a rugged, commanding presence that was only slightly undercut by the tiredness in his eyes.
"Approaching the singularity," came a voice from the navigation console, where the young Than-Thre-Kull pilot Ensign Dreams-Of-Starlight was turned in her chair and watching Rip through her large black compound eyes, waiting for his orders. Her green carapace-like skin seemed to shimmer under the dim lights, and her antennae twitched with anticipation.
Rip leaned forward in his seat. "Onscreen."
After a second, the viewscreen flickered to life, revealing the singularity ahead. It was a gaping maw in the blackness of space, a swirling vortex of darkness rimmed with a halo of iridescent light. The sheer gravitational pull of the singularity seemed to distort the very stars around it, bending light and space in a display of pure cosmic power.
"Isn't it beautiful?" chirped Ensign Starlight, her antennae twitching with excitement. "Like a great cosmic whirlpool!"
Rip couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "I'd say it looks more terrifying than beautiful, but I can see your point. Let's not get too close though."
The Khennet'an security officer, Chief Brehkk, standing tall and resolute, emitted a series of flashes from its geodes, a form of communication that translated to, "We must proceed with caution. The singularity's pull is strong." Brehkk's vaguely humanoid shape was composed of rock and colorful crystals, with crude-looking cybernetics attached to it, including a single yellow camera-eye at the center of its 'head.'
"Noted," Rip replied, appreciating the lithoid's caution. "Can we raise the Archold?"
From the corner of the bridge, a skeletal figure in a dark, hooded cloak, tattered with age, intoned in an unnaturally deep, resonant voice, "The Archold awaits our arrival. Their guardian has signaled readiness."
Rip glanced at the lich, still finding his presence slightly unnerving. "Thank you, Cerdan," he replied, trying to inject as much false sincerity in his voice as he could, eager to get the Archdruid off his ship as soon as possible. Then he turned back to look at the viewscreen in front. "Captain," he called out "permission to approach the Archold?"
After a second of silence, a simulated voice responded in a sweet, matronly tone that made Rip unconsciously squirm in his seat. "Of course, Commander Smiley, you may proceed when ready."
Rip didn't like the Captain, but then again he'd never liked any of his captains in his past tours. Every single starship and station in the corporate armada had one, and all of them almost exactly the same, a cutting-edge proprietary AI housed in the ship's black box. Who else could Corporate trust to oversee their affairs but loyal creatures of their own making?
Rip took a second to shake off his thoughts, after all, introspection wasn't profitable. "Alright, Ensign Starlight, bring us in line with the station." He then looked over his shoulder at the lich. "Please prepare your team, Cerdan." The figure nodded before marching out the door to the lift, his dark robes swishing with each motion. Rip then tapped his combadge, "Smiley to Ops, I need a shuttle prepped and ready in the port launch bay."
"Will do, Commander," replied Lieutenant Nancy in his usual Dwarven brogue.
The Gilded Caravan began its approach and was soon in visual range, the viewscreen displaying the massive obelisk in perfect synchronous orbit of the singularity. It's structure was as imposing as it was confusing. It's surface was not metal like most stations, but stone, and despite the many open ports, doors and windows, it still somehow held an oxygen atmosphere.
No, it did not make sense, but then again, anything magic seldom does.
As they drew closer, the finer details of the Archold became more apparent. Rip could make out the intricate pictograms and symbols carved into the black stone, black stone that Rip knew from experience felt greasy to the touch, despite being completely dry.
Rip had never been to this Archold, but he'd been to countless others, most of them active or freshly built and awaiting activation. He didn't know why this one, which scans confirmed was thousands of years old, was only just now being activated. It must have been one of the first.
Whatever. It was above his pay level.
"Steady as she goes, Ensign Starlight," Rip instructed, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen.
"Aye sir," chirped Dreams-Of-Starlight, her antennae twitching with concentration as she expertly maneuvered the ship.
Chief Brehkk, standing at its station, emitted a series of flashes from its geodes. "Should we weigh anchor, Commander?" Rip heard through his cochlear translation matrix.
Rip considered it for a second, running a hand through his trimmed beard before shaking his head. "No, I don't think that will be necessary."
Just 47 minutes later, he would severely regret those words.
Meanwhile, in the Port Launch Bay, two crewmen were performing the ordered preflight check on the shuttle. The first one was Draal, a Tarlish shuttle pilot, inhumanly thin with a mottled red and blue colored carapace. Beside him was Rosa, a human mechanic with substantial cybernetic enhancements. Her skin, for the most part, was a dull grey while her more extreme cranial cybernetics glowed a bright neon green. Across her entire face was a transparent visor with a HUD, constantly scanning and analyzing whatever she looked at.
She was humming.
Leaning against the hull, Draal just lazily watched through his mismatched eyes, one red one blue, as Rosa flitted about the shuttle, checking each system with a pep in her step. She'd been different since she'd received her 'Happiness Upgrade' last cycle, sunnier, happier, he supposed. It was exhausting.
"What do you make of this Rosa? Apparently this Archold was built millennia ago. Why is it only getting activated now?"
Rosa deftly turned to look at him as she put her hands on her hips. "Hells if I know, Draaly-boo! But I'm sure Corporate's got a reason," she responded with her usual Southern twang. "Now are you gonna stand there all day or are ya gonna help?"
Draal sighed and pushed himself off the hull, his carapace glinting under the bay lights. "Fine, I'll help," he muttered, moving to check the shuttle's thrusters. He then glanced at her with a slick grin, "'I'm sure Corporate's got a reason'" he mocked, badly mimicking her accent. "Don't tell me you honestly believe that Corporate never makes mistakes. You just have to look at the state of this ship to know that's not true!"
Rosa turned to him with a playful smirk. "C'mon Draal, you know I don't think Corporate's perfect, but they got us here, didn't they? Besides there is a certain kind of sense in waiting to replace a part until it's about to go kaput. They're all about efficiency up there."
"And you don't see a problem with that? With what little regard they have for mortal lives? Our comfort? Our safety?" Draal shook his head, "I remember when you used to be as cynical as me."
"I was as miserable as you, you mean," she said with a dark chuckle, her usual bright demeanor dimming as a flicker of anger crossed her face. "You don't get points for being unhappy, Draal. Suffering isn't some noble endeavor, suffering is suffering. I made a choice to be happy. It was the best one I ever made!"
Draal grit his teeth, the conversation becoming painful for him, yet he continued on. "And have you never wondered, Rosa, if happiness was all they gave you?" he asked, his voice taking on a pleading edge. "You've become so loyal to them, too loyal."
"Because I'm grateful to them, not because they programmed me to be. I wouldn't even care if they did!"
Before Draal could react, Rosa stepped closer, her expression softening, her arm on his shoulder. "Look, Draal, I just want my friends to be happy that I'm finally happy. And if they can't be, then I hope they can at least let it lie and pretend to be, for my sake."
Draal paused, taking in her words. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, even through the glow of her HUD. With a resigned sigh, he nodded. "Alright, Rosa. I get it. Let's just focus on the job."
He turned back to the shuttle, his tone shifting to a more practical one. "Speaking of which, we need to replace this thruster assembly," he pointed, "it's been acting up for a while now."
Rosa smiled, the tension easing between them. "Now that's something we can agree on! Let's get to it."
20 minutes later, the Launch Bay was empty, the shuttle having been given the green light, when suddenly the doors hissed open and five darkly dressed sorcerers, led by Cerdan, walked inside, marching toward the shuttle, their presence immediately chilling the air.
Draal awkwardly trailed behind them.
Draal, feeling a knot of unease tighten in his stomach, watched as they approached the shuttle. He forced a smile, trying to mask his discomfort. "Welcome aboard," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "I'll be your pilot for this trip to the Archold."
Despite the lich not having eyes, Draal could feel Cerdan's gaze pass over him. "Very well," he intoned, his voice deep and hollow. "Let us proceed."
The sorcerers filed into the shuttle, their movements fluid and almost otherworldly. Draal followed them inside, taking his place at the pilot's seat. As he began to activate the new assembly, he glanced back at his passengers, who were now seated in stony silence. One of them was holding a writhing bag, and Draal fervently wished that he never learn what was inside.
"So, uh, first time visiting this Archold?" Draal ventured, trying to break the ice. The sorcerers remained silent; their eyes fixed ahead. Draal cleared his throat, feeling the awkwardness intensify. "I've heard it's practically ancient. I don't suppose you know why it hasn't been activated by now? What's it's history?"
One of the sorcerers, a tall figure with a dark mask over his face, turned his head slightly. "History is irrelevant," he said coldly. "We are here for the power it holds."
Draal nodded, swallowing hard. "Right, of course. Power. Got it."
The shuttle lifted off smoothly, and Draal focused on the controls, trying to ignore the oppressive silence behind him as they cleared the bay doors. The ship was already quite close to the Archold, so Draal was thankful that it wouldn't be a long flight.
Draal barely had to engage the shuttle's engines, as the black hole behind the towering obelisk was steadily pulling them in to begin with. The Archold's shiny black surface shimmered in the light from the accretion disk, drinking in the light.
Quickly identifying a shuttle bay, Draal guided the tiny ship into the massive structure. Setting the shuttle down on the landing pad, Draal marveled at the view outside the window. There, printed along the huge oily black wall, was the white symbol, faded with time, that almost every being in a thousand universes was familiar with. At the center of it was a circle, with six lines radiating outward into a hexagon before they continued a little further, ending in large arrows pointing outward. Draal had heard that the circle represented The Hub, the strange universe at the center of Corporate's empire, but he'd also heard that it actually represented Earth-That-Was, the planet from which the company was rumored to originate. He'd also been told that the hexagon represented the Corporate Empire, while the arrows spreading outward represented the company's constant expansion.
What truly captured his attention though, was the word underneath it. A world he was sure he'd never seen or heard before.
"WebbCo," he sounded out, "what is that supposed to mean?"
Beside him, Cerdan touched his chin, his skeletal fingers clacking against his jawbone. "Had you never wondered, mortal, about the name of the company we all work for?"
Draal furrowed his brow. The Company was the Company and Corporate was Corporate, wasn't it? He had never thought about it, but it never seemed to have a proper name. Sensing his confusion, Cerdan let out a terrible laugh. "You have forgotten, as mortals do. A name holds power, but it is also a weakness. You will forget again."
Cerdan then turned and hit the release on the shuttle doors, which swished open. As the sorcerers departed the shuttle, Cerdan turned slightly, and looked over his shoulder at Draal, and gave a single command before walking out into the Archold.
"Stay."
And then Draal was alone. Alone, and very confused.
Cerdan moved through the eerie, otherworldly corridors of the Archold, his disciples following close behind him. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, and the only sound was their footsteps lightly echoing off the ancient stone walls. Cerdan didn't dare show it, but part of him, some small, still-human part, was nervous. The Guardian he had contacted should have been there to receive him, but Cerdan could feel no presence on the station save for himself, his men, and the xeno who piloted the shuttle.
They had come too far, however, to stop now.
Soon, they arrived at a vast chamber, its ceiling lost to darkness, and at the center stood a massive alter covered in intricate carvings that seemed to be moving slightly. Cerdan raised a bony hand, signaling his disciples to halt.
"Nott, prepare the offering," he commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber, the sound coming back to him in an almost mocking tone.
Nott, the newest and youngest of his disciples, nodded, gently lowered a bag to the ground and opening it, retrieving a wriggling year-old human child from it, and gave him to Cerdan.
Cerdan stood at the altar, holding the writhing infant aloft, while his disciples walked around it, casting stones imbued with dark magic along the edge. Each stone landed with a resonant thud, as if they were much heavier than they actually were, and one by one the small runes dotting the altar began to alight, and Cerdan began his chant.
"Yz'endo.
We, who you once spurned, call upon you again in this holy hour.
We come before you with a fresh offering.
Accept our offering, o' god, and grant us a sliver of your power.
Yz'endo.
Come forth.
Yz'endo.
Receive your offering.
Yz'endo."
Cerdan felt his skeletal hands hold the toddler aloft. The sorcerers' chant grew louder, their voices blending into a single, resonant note. Cerdan placed the child near the center of the altar, its dark aura pulsing in time with the chant. Cerdan took just a second to look at the child in the poor light, just barely making out the reddened lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead. The boy was screaming, tears streaming down his face, but no sound escaped thanks to the warded blanket he was wrapped in.
"Hear us, ancient one, keeper of the abyss.
We beseech you, ancient Yz'endo, to heed our call.
From the depths of the pit, rise and grant us your favor.
Yz'endo.
We offer this sacrifice in your name.
A Child of Prophecy. A future not to be.
Yz'endo.
Take the offering.
Bestow upon us your power.
Yz'endo."
As the chant continued, Cerdan drew a ceremonial dagger from his cloak, its blade etched with eldritch symbols. He sliced the boy's cheek, letting his blood drip into the center, mixing with the tears. The chamber seemed to vibrate with the power of the ritual, the very air crackling with energy. The black hole outside the station began to react, its gravitational pull intensifying, the walls and ceiling of the chamber beginning to crumble.
"Yz'endo.
Yz'endo.
Yz'endo!
Gor'ath n'zul, Yz'endo!
Kra'zul n'gor, Yz'endo!
Zul'gor n'kra, Yz'endo!"
For a moment, it seemed as though the ritual was working, unfathomable power pouring through the connection, and a shimmering portal beginning to form above them.
This was the true power of the Archolds. Their true purpose. Each one orbiting a black hole, each one powered by the beasts that reside within, each one connecting the Hub to a different universe, a new world for Corporate to exploit. Yz'endo had refused them once before, in ages past, it would not do so a second time... or so it had seemed.
Cerdan knew something had gone wrong when the portal continued to expand, getting bigger and bigger, too big. When the outer edges of it touched the wall, the chamber was ripped apart.
A deep, otherworldly voice echoed through the chamber, filled with untold amounts of anger and disdain.
F̸̧̧̨̢̧̛̛̘̜̹̦̼̭͓̘̺̲̺͉̘͍̟̝͇̠͈̪̞͓̮̯̱̹̞̗͈̭͙̻͒͆̈͛̉̑̌͗̏̏̑̿͆̀͌̽͗̓͋̆̕͜͜͠ͅͅo̸̧̢̢̧̺̹͇̤͈̭̦͎͈͚̺̝͈̖̦͍̦̥̠̦͖͍͇͕͔͚͖͓͙̺̣̰̹͖̪̫̱͙͖̱̝͉̫̦͍͙͕͉͈͇̦͓̥͇̩͉̣̗̮̬̖̰̜͈̝̹̺͖̼̖̠̼̤͕̻͍͖̱̻͍̤̝͖̺͔͙͕̍͆̀̑̎́̌̿̉͌̋̈́̽̊̆͌̓̐̀̈̊͒͌͆͛͐̾̆̉̅̓̈́͋̇̊̃̉͆̋̍̓̐̈̿̓́̉̇̌̍͛̔̈́̔̇́̑͌́̅̈́̅́́́̒̈́̈̾̋͆͘͘͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͠ͅͅǫ̷̨̧̨̛̥͍̹̠̠͇̜͍͚̙̟̥͈̱͙͎͔̲͎̟̲̰̟̣͚̼͍͕̣͓͖̪̆̀́̀̐͒͐̅̍͑̒͆̃́̃̅̓͒̆͑͒́̑͗̏̿̆͗̂̿̈͛̀̓̉̍̇̀͊͘̕̕̚͘͜͠͠͝͝l̵̢̢̡̡̧̢̧͍̩̦̟̻̥̪̥͖̗̞̫̲͚̜̭͕͔̩̼̭̩͔̲̥̹̪͓̱̹̲̼͙̣̬͖̝͙͔̻̦̫͇͖̤̙̬͈͚͖̫̹͍̪̫̘̹̣̼͉̩̲̰̙̝͇͔͈͚̘̼͎͙̞̳̭͈̥̥̩͛́́̑̕͜͜͜ͅs̵̡̨̲̣̞̟̯̪̬̬̠͙̩͇̻̻̮̞̪̈͗̂͒̍̌̄̒͗͊̏̅̍̍̐͒͌̊̉̃̀̇̓͝ͅ
The eldritch god's voice coiled through the air, twisting and writhing like it was a living thing.
The room, the entire station, began to shake violently. Cerdan could only watch in horror as the walls cracked and crumbled, the ancient stone unable to withstand the sheer force of the portal's expansion. His disciples were thrown to the ground, their chants turning to screams as the chamber was torn apart, the child nowhere to be seen. As the ground fell away from under him and he looked out into the looming black hole ahead, there was only one thing left for him to say.
"Oh, shit!"
Back onboard the Gilded Caravan, the bridge was a flurry of activity, alarms blaring and lights flashing as the Archold disintegrated before them. The viewscreen displayed the massive, flickering portal and the singularity beyond, it's gravitational pull growing stronger by the second.
"Commander, the Archold is collapsing!" Ensign Dreams-Of-Starlight shouted, her compound eyes wide with fear. "We're being pulled in!"
"Divert all power to the engines!" Rip Smiley barked, gripping the armrests of his chair. "We need to get out of here, now!"
"Engines at full power, but it's not enough!" Dreams-Of-Starlight's voice crackled with panic. "We're losing ground!"
"Chief Brehkk, weigh anchor!" Rip ordered, desperation creeping into his voice.
"The gravitational pull is too strong. We cannot escape," Brehkk's geodes flashed urgently. 'It's too late you fool,' Rip imagined it was thinking.
Rip closed his eyes for just a moment before a bolt of inspiration struck him. "Starlight, reverse engines! Full speed ahead, straight into the portal!"
The bridge fell silent for a second, the crew staring at Rip as if he had lost his mind. "Sir?" Ensign Starlight hesitated, her antennae twitching with uncertainty.
Rip took a deep breath, his voice steady and resolute. "Sometimes, when a ship faces a tsunami, the only way to survive is to steer straight into it. If we try to fight the pull, we'll be torn apart. Our best chance is to go through the portal as fast as we can."
The Captain's simulated voice cut through the tension, calm and composed. "The Commander's logic is sound, Ensign. Set course for the portal, full power to the engines. All hands, brace for impact. Secure all stations and prepare for emergency protocols."
Dreams-Of-Starlight's hands flew over the controls, reversing the engines and pushing them to their limits. The ship shuddered violently as it accelerated towards the portal, the viewscreen filled with the swirling vortex of darkness. As the ship was dragged towards the portal, Starlight's voice trembled. "B-but mortals aren't supposed to cross through portals awake! They say the energies can damage our minds!"
Rip's heart pounded as he realized the gravity of their situation. "We don't have a choice," he muttered, gripping his chair tighter.
With a final, bone-jarring lurch, the Gilded Caravan was pulled into the portal, the swirling darkness consuming the ship. The bridge was plunged into chaos, the crew's shouts and the ship's alarms blending into a deafening roar. As they crossed the threshold, an excruciating pain shot through Rip's mind, as if his very thoughts were being torn asunder. He could feel the presence of something but couldn't put it to words.
It hurt.
Rip's vision blurred, the pain overwhelming him. He could hear the screams of his crew, their minds also under assault. The darkness closed in, and just before he lost consciousness, Rip's last thought was a desperate hope that they would survive this ordeal.
And then, blessed silence.
Hope you enjoyed that, it was a pain to write!
Now let's talk about what happens next. This IS a Quest after all!
Due to how the first jump is set up, this jump, which is into Star Wars FYI, is going to go a little differently than future jumps. More on that later, first, some ground rules.
Basically, every character in Personnel can have actions suggested for them by questers. And each quester can write in one action only, not one for each character, no, one for each turn. I will try to incorporate as many as I can if multiple questers write actions for the same character.
For Turn 1, fair warning: all characters will start with a debuff, God-Touched, which frays their sanity while simultaneously rendering them immune to psychic attacks. One character will be completely unaffected by this debuff, one will be driven completely and irreversibly insane by it, and another will be knocked out completely by it and will be out for a while. The rest will be somewhere in between. If the character you wrote an action for is the uber-insane one or the knocked-out one, that sucks for you as you wasted an action! And no, I'm not telling who is which!
They will find themselves in orbit of a planet with a sizable population and a strong criminal presence.
They don't know what the frell's going on, so why should you?
That's the quest, take it or leave it! I will count it as a victory if I get two people!
The time to write in actions for Turn 1 will expire at midnight EST on Monday morning, September 30th, one week from my writing this sentence.
Check the Rules in the post below before posting.
This idea for this Quest came from this post here and its subsequent posts, but I've adapted the idea to be a Quest rather than a round-robin RP.
Cross-posted to SV and SB.
Not exactly a stress-free workplace.
The bridge crew of the Gilded Caravan was a testament to the diversity of the Hub, the primary universe in which the company operated in. Aliens of all shapes and sizes manning their stations and seated in the center of the room was the ship's first officer, a human, Commander Rip Smiley. Wearing a leather jacket that didn't fully cover up the myriad scars and tattoos adorning his dark skin, Rip exuded a rugged, commanding presence that was only slightly undercut by the tiredness in his eyes.
"Approaching the singularity," came a voice from the navigation console, where the young Than-Thre-Kull pilot Ensign Dreams-Of-Starlight was turned in her chair and watching Rip through her large black compound eyes, waiting for his orders. Her green carapace-like skin seemed to shimmer under the dim lights, and her antennae twitched with anticipation.
Rip leaned forward in his seat. "Onscreen."
After a second, the viewscreen flickered to life, revealing the singularity ahead. It was a gaping maw in the blackness of space, a swirling vortex of darkness rimmed with a halo of iridescent light. The sheer gravitational pull of the singularity seemed to distort the very stars around it, bending light and space in a display of pure cosmic power.
"Isn't it beautiful?" chirped Ensign Starlight, her antennae twitching with excitement. "Like a great cosmic whirlpool!"
Rip couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "I'd say it looks more terrifying than beautiful, but I can see your point. Let's not get too close though."
The Khennet'an security officer, Chief Brehkk, standing tall and resolute, emitted a series of flashes from its geodes, a form of communication that translated to, "We must proceed with caution. The singularity's pull is strong." Brehkk's vaguely humanoid shape was composed of rock and colorful crystals, with crude-looking cybernetics attached to it, including a single yellow camera-eye at the center of its 'head.'
"Noted," Rip replied, appreciating the lithoid's caution. "Can we raise the Archold?"
From the corner of the bridge, a skeletal figure in a dark, hooded cloak, tattered with age, intoned in an unnaturally deep, resonant voice, "The Archold awaits our arrival. Their guardian has signaled readiness."
Rip glanced at the lich, still finding his presence slightly unnerving. "Thank you, Cerdan," he replied, trying to inject as much false sincerity in his voice as he could, eager to get the Archdruid off his ship as soon as possible. Then he turned back to look at the viewscreen in front. "Captain," he called out "permission to approach the Archold?"
After a second of silence, a simulated voice responded in a sweet, matronly tone that made Rip unconsciously squirm in his seat. "Of course, Commander Smiley, you may proceed when ready."
Rip didn't like the Captain, but then again he'd never liked any of his captains in his past tours. Every single starship and station in the corporate armada had one, and all of them almost exactly the same, a cutting-edge proprietary AI housed in the ship's black box. Who else could Corporate trust to oversee their affairs but loyal creatures of their own making?
Rip took a second to shake off his thoughts, after all, introspection wasn't profitable. "Alright, Ensign Starlight, bring us in line with the station." He then looked over his shoulder at the lich. "Please prepare your team, Cerdan." The figure nodded before marching out the door to the lift, his dark robes swishing with each motion. Rip then tapped his combadge, "Smiley to Ops, I need a shuttle prepped and ready in the port launch bay."
"Will do, Commander," replied Lieutenant Nancy in his usual Dwarven brogue.
The Gilded Caravan began its approach and was soon in visual range, the viewscreen displaying the massive obelisk in perfect synchronous orbit of the singularity. It's structure was as imposing as it was confusing. It's surface was not metal like most stations, but stone, and despite the many open ports, doors and windows, it still somehow held an oxygen atmosphere.
No, it did not make sense, but then again, anything magic seldom does.
As they drew closer, the finer details of the Archold became more apparent. Rip could make out the intricate pictograms and symbols carved into the black stone, black stone that Rip knew from experience felt greasy to the touch, despite being completely dry.
Use your imagination, the AI has failed me.
Rip had never been to this Archold, but he'd been to countless others, most of them active or freshly built and awaiting activation. He didn't know why this one, which scans confirmed was thousands of years old, was only just now being activated. It must have been one of the first.
Whatever. It was above his pay level.
"Steady as she goes, Ensign Starlight," Rip instructed, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen.
"Aye sir," chirped Dreams-Of-Starlight, her antennae twitching with concentration as she expertly maneuvered the ship.
Chief Brehkk, standing at its station, emitted a series of flashes from its geodes. "Should we weigh anchor, Commander?" Rip heard through his cochlear translation matrix.
Rip considered it for a second, running a hand through his trimmed beard before shaking his head. "No, I don't think that will be necessary."
Just 47 minutes later, he would severely regret those words.
Meanwhile, in the Port Launch Bay, two crewmen were performing the ordered preflight check on the shuttle. The first one was Draal, a Tarlish shuttle pilot, inhumanly thin with a mottled red and blue colored carapace. Beside him was Rosa, a human mechanic with substantial cybernetic enhancements. Her skin, for the most part, was a dull grey while her more extreme cranial cybernetics glowed a bright neon green. Across her entire face was a transparent visor with a HUD, constantly scanning and analyzing whatever she looked at.
She was humming.
Leaning against the hull, Draal just lazily watched through his mismatched eyes, one red one blue, as Rosa flitted about the shuttle, checking each system with a pep in her step. She'd been different since she'd received her 'Happiness Upgrade' last cycle, sunnier, happier, he supposed. It was exhausting.
"What do you make of this Rosa? Apparently this Archold was built millennia ago. Why is it only getting activated now?"
Rosa deftly turned to look at him as she put her hands on her hips. "Hells if I know, Draaly-boo! But I'm sure Corporate's got a reason," she responded with her usual Southern twang. "Now are you gonna stand there all day or are ya gonna help?"
Draal sighed and pushed himself off the hull, his carapace glinting under the bay lights. "Fine, I'll help," he muttered, moving to check the shuttle's thrusters. He then glanced at her with a slick grin, "'I'm sure Corporate's got a reason'" he mocked, badly mimicking her accent. "Don't tell me you honestly believe that Corporate never makes mistakes. You just have to look at the state of this ship to know that's not true!"
Rosa turned to him with a playful smirk. "C'mon Draal, you know I don't think Corporate's perfect, but they got us here, didn't they? Besides there is a certain kind of sense in waiting to replace a part until it's about to go kaput. They're all about efficiency up there."
"And you don't see a problem with that? With what little regard they have for mortal lives? Our comfort? Our safety?" Draal shook his head, "I remember when you used to be as cynical as me."
"I was as miserable as you, you mean," she said with a dark chuckle, her usual bright demeanor dimming as a flicker of anger crossed her face. "You don't get points for being unhappy, Draal. Suffering isn't some noble endeavor, suffering is suffering. I made a choice to be happy. It was the best one I ever made!"
Draal grit his teeth, the conversation becoming painful for him, yet he continued on. "And have you never wondered, Rosa, if happiness was all they gave you?" he asked, his voice taking on a pleading edge. "You've become so loyal to them, too loyal."
"Because I'm grateful to them, not because they programmed me to be. I wouldn't even care if they did!"
Before Draal could react, Rosa stepped closer, her expression softening, her arm on his shoulder. "Look, Draal, I just want my friends to be happy that I'm finally happy. And if they can't be, then I hope they can at least let it lie and pretend to be, for my sake."
Draal paused, taking in her words. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, even through the glow of her HUD. With a resigned sigh, he nodded. "Alright, Rosa. I get it. Let's just focus on the job."
He turned back to the shuttle, his tone shifting to a more practical one. "Speaking of which, we need to replace this thruster assembly," he pointed, "it's been acting up for a while now."
Rosa smiled, the tension easing between them. "Now that's something we can agree on! Let's get to it."
20 minutes later, the Launch Bay was empty, the shuttle having been given the green light, when suddenly the doors hissed open and five darkly dressed sorcerers, led by Cerdan, walked inside, marching toward the shuttle, their presence immediately chilling the air.
Draal awkwardly trailed behind them.
Draal, feeling a knot of unease tighten in his stomach, watched as they approached the shuttle. He forced a smile, trying to mask his discomfort. "Welcome aboard," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "I'll be your pilot for this trip to the Archold."
Despite the lich not having eyes, Draal could feel Cerdan's gaze pass over him. "Very well," he intoned, his voice deep and hollow. "Let us proceed."
The sorcerers filed into the shuttle, their movements fluid and almost otherworldly. Draal followed them inside, taking his place at the pilot's seat. As he began to activate the new assembly, he glanced back at his passengers, who were now seated in stony silence. One of them was holding a writhing bag, and Draal fervently wished that he never learn what was inside.
"So, uh, first time visiting this Archold?" Draal ventured, trying to break the ice. The sorcerers remained silent; their eyes fixed ahead. Draal cleared his throat, feeling the awkwardness intensify. "I've heard it's practically ancient. I don't suppose you know why it hasn't been activated by now? What's it's history?"
One of the sorcerers, a tall figure with a dark mask over his face, turned his head slightly. "History is irrelevant," he said coldly. "We are here for the power it holds."
Draal nodded, swallowing hard. "Right, of course. Power. Got it."
The shuttle lifted off smoothly, and Draal focused on the controls, trying to ignore the oppressive silence behind him as they cleared the bay doors. The ship was already quite close to the Archold, so Draal was thankful that it wouldn't be a long flight.
Draal barely had to engage the shuttle's engines, as the black hole behind the towering obelisk was steadily pulling them in to begin with. The Archold's shiny black surface shimmered in the light from the accretion disk, drinking in the light.
Quickly identifying a shuttle bay, Draal guided the tiny ship into the massive structure. Setting the shuttle down on the landing pad, Draal marveled at the view outside the window. There, printed along the huge oily black wall, was the white symbol, faded with time, that almost every being in a thousand universes was familiar with. At the center of it was a circle, with six lines radiating outward into a hexagon before they continued a little further, ending in large arrows pointing outward. Draal had heard that the circle represented The Hub, the strange universe at the center of Corporate's empire, but he'd also heard that it actually represented Earth-That-Was, the planet from which the company was rumored to originate. He'd also been told that the hexagon represented the Corporate Empire, while the arrows spreading outward represented the company's constant expansion.
What truly captured his attention though, was the word underneath it. A world he was sure he'd never seen or heard before.
"WebbCo," he sounded out, "what is that supposed to mean?"
Beside him, Cerdan touched his chin, his skeletal fingers clacking against his jawbone. "Had you never wondered, mortal, about the name of the company we all work for?"
Draal furrowed his brow. The Company was the Company and Corporate was Corporate, wasn't it? He had never thought about it, but it never seemed to have a proper name. Sensing his confusion, Cerdan let out a terrible laugh. "You have forgotten, as mortals do. A name holds power, but it is also a weakness. You will forget again."
Cerdan then turned and hit the release on the shuttle doors, which swished open. As the sorcerers departed the shuttle, Cerdan turned slightly, and looked over his shoulder at Draal, and gave a single command before walking out into the Archold.
"Stay."
And then Draal was alone. Alone, and very confused.
Cerdan moved through the eerie, otherworldly corridors of the Archold, his disciples following close behind him. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, and the only sound was their footsteps lightly echoing off the ancient stone walls. Cerdan didn't dare show it, but part of him, some small, still-human part, was nervous. The Guardian he had contacted should have been there to receive him, but Cerdan could feel no presence on the station save for himself, his men, and the xeno who piloted the shuttle.
They had come too far, however, to stop now.
Soon, they arrived at a vast chamber, its ceiling lost to darkness, and at the center stood a massive alter covered in intricate carvings that seemed to be moving slightly. Cerdan raised a bony hand, signaling his disciples to halt.
"Nott, prepare the offering," he commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber, the sound coming back to him in an almost mocking tone.
Nott, the newest and youngest of his disciples, nodded, gently lowered a bag to the ground and opening it, retrieving a wriggling year-old human child from it, and gave him to Cerdan.
Cerdan stood at the altar, holding the writhing infant aloft, while his disciples walked around it, casting stones imbued with dark magic along the edge. Each stone landed with a resonant thud, as if they were much heavier than they actually were, and one by one the small runes dotting the altar began to alight, and Cerdan began his chant.
"Yz'endo.
We, who you once spurned, call upon you again in this holy hour.
We come before you with a fresh offering.
Accept our offering, o' god, and grant us a sliver of your power.
Yz'endo.
Come forth.
Yz'endo.
Receive your offering.
Yz'endo."
Cerdan felt his skeletal hands hold the toddler aloft. The sorcerers' chant grew louder, their voices blending into a single, resonant note. Cerdan placed the child near the center of the altar, its dark aura pulsing in time with the chant. Cerdan took just a second to look at the child in the poor light, just barely making out the reddened lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead. The boy was screaming, tears streaming down his face, but no sound escaped thanks to the warded blanket he was wrapped in.
"Hear us, ancient one, keeper of the abyss.
We beseech you, ancient Yz'endo, to heed our call.
From the depths of the pit, rise and grant us your favor.
Yz'endo.
We offer this sacrifice in your name.
A Child of Prophecy. A future not to be.
Yz'endo.
Take the offering.
Bestow upon us your power.
Yz'endo."
As the chant continued, Cerdan drew a ceremonial dagger from his cloak, its blade etched with eldritch symbols. He sliced the boy's cheek, letting his blood drip into the center, mixing with the tears. The chamber seemed to vibrate with the power of the ritual, the very air crackling with energy. The black hole outside the station began to react, its gravitational pull intensifying, the walls and ceiling of the chamber beginning to crumble.
"Yz'endo.
Yz'endo.
Yz'endo!
Gor'ath n'zul, Yz'endo!
Kra'zul n'gor, Yz'endo!
Zul'gor n'kra, Yz'endo!"
For a moment, it seemed as though the ritual was working, unfathomable power pouring through the connection, and a shimmering portal beginning to form above them.
This was the true power of the Archolds. Their true purpose. Each one orbiting a black hole, each one powered by the beasts that reside within, each one connecting the Hub to a different universe, a new world for Corporate to exploit. Yz'endo had refused them once before, in ages past, it would not do so a second time... or so it had seemed.
Cerdan knew something had gone wrong when the portal continued to expand, getting bigger and bigger, too big. When the outer edges of it touched the wall, the chamber was ripped apart.
A deep, otherworldly voice echoed through the chamber, filled with untold amounts of anger and disdain.
F̸̧̧̨̢̧̛̛̘̜̹̦̼̭͓̘̺̲̺͉̘͍̟̝͇̠͈̪̞͓̮̯̱̹̞̗͈̭͙̻͒͆̈͛̉̑̌͗̏̏̑̿͆̀͌̽͗̓͋̆̕͜͜͠ͅͅo̸̧̢̢̧̺̹͇̤͈̭̦͎͈͚̺̝͈̖̦͍̦̥̠̦͖͍͇͕͔͚͖͓͙̺̣̰̹͖̪̫̱͙͖̱̝͉̫̦͍͙͕͉͈͇̦͓̥͇̩͉̣̗̮̬̖̰̜͈̝̹̺͖̼̖̠̼̤͕̻͍͖̱̻͍̤̝͖̺͔͙͕̍͆̀̑̎́̌̿̉͌̋̈́̽̊̆͌̓̐̀̈̊͒͌͆͛͐̾̆̉̅̓̈́͋̇̊̃̉͆̋̍̓̐̈̿̓́̉̇̌̍͛̔̈́̔̇́̑͌́̅̈́̅́́́̒̈́̈̾̋͆͘͘͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͠ͅͅǫ̷̨̧̨̛̥͍̹̠̠͇̜͍͚̙̟̥͈̱͙͎͔̲͎̟̲̰̟̣͚̼͍͕̣͓͖̪̆̀́̀̐͒͐̅̍͑̒͆̃́̃̅̓͒̆͑͒́̑͗̏̿̆͗̂̿̈͛̀̓̉̍̇̀͊͘̕̕̚͘͜͠͠͝͝l̵̢̢̡̡̧̢̧͍̩̦̟̻̥̪̥͖̗̞̫̲͚̜̭͕͔̩̼̭̩͔̲̥̹̪͓̱̹̲̼͙̣̬͖̝͙͔̻̦̫͇͖̤̙̬͈͚͖̫̹͍̪̫̘̹̣̼͉̩̲̰̙̝͇͔͈͚̘̼͎͙̞̳̭͈̥̥̩͛́́̑̕͜͜͜ͅs̵̡̨̲̣̞̟̯̪̬̬̠͙̩͇̻̻̮̞̪̈͗̂͒̍̌̄̒͗͊̏̅̍̍̐͒͌̊̉̃̀̇̓͝ͅ
The eldritch god's voice coiled through the air, twisting and writhing like it was a living thing.
The room, the entire station, began to shake violently. Cerdan could only watch in horror as the walls cracked and crumbled, the ancient stone unable to withstand the sheer force of the portal's expansion. His disciples were thrown to the ground, their chants turning to screams as the chamber was torn apart, the child nowhere to be seen. As the ground fell away from under him and he looked out into the looming black hole ahead, there was only one thing left for him to say.
"Oh, shit!"
Back onboard the Gilded Caravan, the bridge was a flurry of activity, alarms blaring and lights flashing as the Archold disintegrated before them. The viewscreen displayed the massive, flickering portal and the singularity beyond, it's gravitational pull growing stronger by the second.
"Commander, the Archold is collapsing!" Ensign Dreams-Of-Starlight shouted, her compound eyes wide with fear. "We're being pulled in!"
"Divert all power to the engines!" Rip Smiley barked, gripping the armrests of his chair. "We need to get out of here, now!"
"Engines at full power, but it's not enough!" Dreams-Of-Starlight's voice crackled with panic. "We're losing ground!"
"Chief Brehkk, weigh anchor!" Rip ordered, desperation creeping into his voice.
"The gravitational pull is too strong. We cannot escape," Brehkk's geodes flashed urgently. 'It's too late you fool,' Rip imagined it was thinking.
Rip closed his eyes for just a moment before a bolt of inspiration struck him. "Starlight, reverse engines! Full speed ahead, straight into the portal!"
The bridge fell silent for a second, the crew staring at Rip as if he had lost his mind. "Sir?" Ensign Starlight hesitated, her antennae twitching with uncertainty.
Rip took a deep breath, his voice steady and resolute. "Sometimes, when a ship faces a tsunami, the only way to survive is to steer straight into it. If we try to fight the pull, we'll be torn apart. Our best chance is to go through the portal as fast as we can."
The Captain's simulated voice cut through the tension, calm and composed. "The Commander's logic is sound, Ensign. Set course for the portal, full power to the engines. All hands, brace for impact. Secure all stations and prepare for emergency protocols."
Dreams-Of-Starlight's hands flew over the controls, reversing the engines and pushing them to their limits. The ship shuddered violently as it accelerated towards the portal, the viewscreen filled with the swirling vortex of darkness. As the ship was dragged towards the portal, Starlight's voice trembled. "B-but mortals aren't supposed to cross through portals awake! They say the energies can damage our minds!"
Rip's heart pounded as he realized the gravity of their situation. "We don't have a choice," he muttered, gripping his chair tighter.
With a final, bone-jarring lurch, the Gilded Caravan was pulled into the portal, the swirling darkness consuming the ship. The bridge was plunged into chaos, the crew's shouts and the ship's alarms blending into a deafening roar. As they crossed the threshold, an excruciating pain shot through Rip's mind, as if his very thoughts were being torn asunder. He could feel the presence of something but couldn't put it to words.
It hurt.
Rip's vision blurred, the pain overwhelming him. He could hear the screams of his crew, their minds also under assault. The darkness closed in, and just before he lost consciousness, Rip's last thought was a desperate hope that they would survive this ordeal.
And then, blessed silence.
Hope you enjoyed that, it was a pain to write!
Now let's talk about what happens next. This IS a Quest after all!
Due to how the first jump is set up, this jump, which is into Star Wars FYI, is going to go a little differently than future jumps. More on that later, first, some ground rules.
Basically, every character in Personnel can have actions suggested for them by questers. And each quester can write in one action only, not one for each character, no, one for each turn. I will try to incorporate as many as I can if multiple questers write actions for the same character.
For Turn 1, fair warning: all characters will start with a debuff, God-Touched, which frays their sanity while simultaneously rendering them immune to psychic attacks. One character will be completely unaffected by this debuff, one will be driven completely and irreversibly insane by it, and another will be knocked out completely by it and will be out for a while. The rest will be somewhere in between. If the character you wrote an action for is the uber-insane one or the knocked-out one, that sucks for you as you wasted an action! And no, I'm not telling who is which!
They will find themselves in orbit of a planet with a sizable population and a strong criminal presence.
They don't know what the frell's going on, so why should you?
That's the quest, take it or leave it! I will count it as a victory if I get two people!
The time to write in actions for Turn 1 will expire at midnight EST on Monday morning, September 30th, one week from my writing this sentence.
Check the Rules in the post below before posting.
This idea for this Quest came from this post here and its subsequent posts, but I've adapted the idea to be a Quest rather than a round-robin RP.
Cross-posted to SV and SB.
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Rules
Mingo
Son of a Hazmot
- Joined
- Apr 30, 2020
- Messages
- 373
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- 3,652
Quest Rules
Rule 1 - Each quester gets to write in only one action per turn (between chapters) and this action can be for any character listed in Personnel. If a quester writes multiple actions in one turn, I will go with the first one they write unless they later say something like "No, ignore that one, this one!"
Rule 2 - Readers/Questers can offer suggestions for the story if they so wish. For example, telling me an interesting place in Star Wars for the portal to spit the Gilded Caravan into. Feel free to ask questions too.
Rule 3 - If a Reader/Quester likes a proposed action that another Quester wrote, they can say "Hey, I like that!" and it will add a tiny bit of weight to the action so that, if there are many actions suggested for that character, then that action will be more likely to be used. This is not a guarantee however.
Rule 4 - Don't write actions that venture too far into NSFW territory. Then again, I had a toddler version of Harry Potter sacrificed to an eldritch god in Chapter One, so maybe I shouldn't throw stones. Just nothing too gross or titillating please, lest we run afoul of the mods.
Rule 5 - Don't make me have to write a Rule 6!
Rule 1 - Each quester gets to write in only one action per turn (between chapters) and this action can be for any character listed in Personnel. If a quester writes multiple actions in one turn, I will go with the first one they write unless they later say something like "No, ignore that one, this one!"
Rule 2 - Readers/Questers can offer suggestions for the story if they so wish. For example, telling me an interesting place in Star Wars for the portal to spit the Gilded Caravan into. Feel free to ask questions too.
Rule 3 - If a Reader/Quester likes a proposed action that another Quester wrote, they can say "Hey, I like that!" and it will add a tiny bit of weight to the action so that, if there are many actions suggested for that character, then that action will be more likely to be used. This is not a guarantee however.
Rule 4 - Don't write actions that venture too far into NSFW territory. Then again, I had a toddler version of Harry Potter sacrificed to an eldritch god in Chapter One, so maybe I shouldn't throw stones. Just nothing too gross or titillating please, lest we run afoul of the mods.
Rule 5 - Don't make me have to write a Rule 6!
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Personnel
Mingo
Son of a Hazmot
- Joined
- Apr 30, 2020
- Messages
- 373
- Likes received
- 3,652
Personnel Roster (Up to Date)
Please remember that every character below is subject to the debuff God-Touched, which frays at their sanity while simultaneously rendering them immune to psychic attacks. As stated above, of all the characters below, one character will be completely unaffected by this debuff, one will be driven completely and irreversibly insane by it, and another will be knocked out completely by it and will be out for a while. The rest will be somewhere in between.
Before you ask, there's a reason why Draal and Rosa aren't on this list, and yes, there's a reason why Cerdan still is. You'll find out later.
Name: Gilded Caravan (Cara)
Position: Commanding Officer (CO)
Rank: Captain/Director
Species: Smart Ship-AI (bio-neural components)
Bio: Frighteningly efficient and unwaveringly loyal, Ship-AI like Cara are the only beings trusted by Corporate to oversee their operations. Designed to have minimal personality, Cara only emotes as much as necessary to make herself seem approachable and to maintain morale. Beyond the ship itself, she has no physical body. For all intents and purposes, she is the ship.
Name: Rip Smiley
Position: Executive Officer (XO)
Rank: Commander
Species: Human-s-X12 (Gen-Mod) (Heavy Worlder)
Bio: Rip Smiley is the highest ranked and highest paid mortal aboard the Gilded Caravan. A veteran of several tours, there is little that Rip has not seen and very little that he thinks would surprise him. Before Corporate uplifted his home dimension, he was a sailor, and he likes to tell people that there is salt water in his blood.
Name: Brehkk
Position: Chief of Security / Second Officer
Rank: Lieutenant Commander
Species: Khennet'an (Cyber-Mod)
Bio: A member of an intelligent lithoid species known as the Khennet'an, Brehkk perceives the world quite differently from its squishy colleagues. It's species was uplifted by Corporate, and Brehkk has voluntarily undergone cybernetic enhancements to better integrate with Corporate society. It's eye piece allows it to perceive the visual spectrum, while it's earpieces enable it to hear sound, bridging the gap between it's natural lithoid senses and the needs of it's role. Brehkk is known for it's stoic demeanor and cautious nature. It is slow to speak and even slower to trust, but when it's crew and ship are in danger, it is quick to act with decisive and calculated precision. Outside of it's duties, Brehkk tends to keep to itself.
Name: Thrax
Position: Chief Engineer
Rank: Lieutenant Commander
Species: Vortan (Cyber-Mod)
Bio: Thrax is a literal ball of chaos and creativity, a brilliant engineer from the Vortan species known for their psionic abilities. His mind is a whirlwind of innovative ideas and experimental gadgets, constantly buzzing with new inventions. Thrax is always "on," his relentless energy and enthusiasm making him both a marvel and a challenge to be around. Most people find him exhausting after more than an hour in his presence. Thrax telepathically speaks in a rapid-fire stream of technobabble, filled with jargon and concepts that seem designed to baffle anyone without a dozen PhDs and a hundred patents to their name. His workshop is a chaotic haven of half-finished projects and experimental devices, each more outlandish than the last. The downside of his rampant creativity is that he rarely finishes anything, often building just enough of an idea to prove the concept before moving on to the next five things. Contributing to the run-down nature of the ship, Thrax is not interested in "routine maintenance" as he finds it too boring, and pawns off those responsibilities to the other members of his department.
Name: Dr. Elowen Thorne
Position: Chief Medical Officer
Rank: Lieutenant
Species: Blood Elf (Cyber-Mod)
Bio: Elowen is an Elven Doctor who has undergone extensive cybernetic enhancements to excel in her role. With the ability to download pertinent medical knowledge directly into her brain via neural spikes, she can quickly adapt to treat the countless species encountered in her travels. Her enhancements allow her to access vast databases of medical information, ensuring that she can quickly prepare herself for any situation. Elowen's ethereal Elven grace, combined with the precision of her cybernetic augmentations, give her an almost otherworldly presence. Her movements are fluid yet unnervingly precise, and her demeanor is calm but slightly detached, despite her efforts to appear friendly, this can make people uneasy around her.
Name: Nancy
Position: Chief Operations Officer
Rank: Lieutenant
Species: Dwarf
Bio: Nancy was but a small boy when Corporate uplifted the realm in which he was born. From that day forward, his heart longed not for the deep mines of his ancestors, but for the uncharted depths of space. Despite his unconventional aspirations, Nancy embodies many of the stereotypical traits of his kind: he is an expert at smithing and crafting, with a meticulous attention to detail, a stubborn determination, and a propensity for hard alcohol. His gruff exterior and no-nonsense attitude make him a formidable presence on the ship, but his loyalty to his crew is unwavering. However, one should not make fun of his name unless they wish to lose their teeth!
Name: Dreams-Of-Starlight
Position: Helm Officer
Rank: Ensign
Species: Than-Thre-Kull (Chem-Mod)
Bio: Restless, passionate, and eternally optimistic, Ensign Dreams-Of-Starlight is the youngest member of the crew at only eight years old, which is equivalent to mid-20s in human years. Hailing from an insectoid species that thrives in hives with billions of others, her assignment on the Gilded Caravan, far from her kind, would naturally induce severe anxiety and depression. However, thanks to chemical modification, she maintains a perpetually sunny and slightly hyper demeanor. Her boundless energy and enthusiasm often brighten the dim corridors of the ship, making her a beloved, if sometimes exhausting, presence among the crew.
Name: Cerdan
Position: Communications / Magical Advisor
Rank: Archdruid (not in chain of command)
Species: Human-s-U4 (Lich)
Bio: Cerdan is a lich of terrifying magical prowess, having existed for thousands of years. His prolonged state of undeath has stripped him of any interest in mortal concerns, and he places no value on mortal life. This detachment has led to his removal from the standard chain of command, allowing him to focus solely on his true passions: the acquisition of power and the study of magic across the multiverse. Cerdan is one of the few who remember the Company's origins as WebbCo, and he has witnessed its transformation over the millennia. His ultimate ambition is to achieve godhood, a goal that some of his old acquaintances in Corporate have already attained. Corporate holds his phylactery, ensuring his unwavering loyalty to them.
Please remember that every character below is subject to the debuff God-Touched, which frays at their sanity while simultaneously rendering them immune to psychic attacks. As stated above, of all the characters below, one character will be completely unaffected by this debuff, one will be driven completely and irreversibly insane by it, and another will be knocked out completely by it and will be out for a while. The rest will be somewhere in between.
Before you ask, there's a reason why Draal and Rosa aren't on this list, and yes, there's a reason why Cerdan still is. You'll find out later.
Name: Gilded Caravan (Cara)
Position: Commanding Officer (CO)
Rank: Captain/Director
Species: Smart Ship-AI (bio-neural components)
Bio: Frighteningly efficient and unwaveringly loyal, Ship-AI like Cara are the only beings trusted by Corporate to oversee their operations. Designed to have minimal personality, Cara only emotes as much as necessary to make herself seem approachable and to maintain morale. Beyond the ship itself, she has no physical body. For all intents and purposes, she is the ship.
Name: Rip Smiley
Position: Executive Officer (XO)
Rank: Commander
Species: Human-s-X12 (Gen-Mod) (Heavy Worlder)
Bio: Rip Smiley is the highest ranked and highest paid mortal aboard the Gilded Caravan. A veteran of several tours, there is little that Rip has not seen and very little that he thinks would surprise him. Before Corporate uplifted his home dimension, he was a sailor, and he likes to tell people that there is salt water in his blood.
Name: Brehkk
Position: Chief of Security / Second Officer
Rank: Lieutenant Commander
Species: Khennet'an (Cyber-Mod)
Bio: A member of an intelligent lithoid species known as the Khennet'an, Brehkk perceives the world quite differently from its squishy colleagues. It's species was uplifted by Corporate, and Brehkk has voluntarily undergone cybernetic enhancements to better integrate with Corporate society. It's eye piece allows it to perceive the visual spectrum, while it's earpieces enable it to hear sound, bridging the gap between it's natural lithoid senses and the needs of it's role. Brehkk is known for it's stoic demeanor and cautious nature. It is slow to speak and even slower to trust, but when it's crew and ship are in danger, it is quick to act with decisive and calculated precision. Outside of it's duties, Brehkk tends to keep to itself.
Name: Thrax
Position: Chief Engineer
Rank: Lieutenant Commander
Species: Vortan (Cyber-Mod)
Bio: Thrax is a literal ball of chaos and creativity, a brilliant engineer from the Vortan species known for their psionic abilities. His mind is a whirlwind of innovative ideas and experimental gadgets, constantly buzzing with new inventions. Thrax is always "on," his relentless energy and enthusiasm making him both a marvel and a challenge to be around. Most people find him exhausting after more than an hour in his presence. Thrax telepathically speaks in a rapid-fire stream of technobabble, filled with jargon and concepts that seem designed to baffle anyone without a dozen PhDs and a hundred patents to their name. His workshop is a chaotic haven of half-finished projects and experimental devices, each more outlandish than the last. The downside of his rampant creativity is that he rarely finishes anything, often building just enough of an idea to prove the concept before moving on to the next five things. Contributing to the run-down nature of the ship, Thrax is not interested in "routine maintenance" as he finds it too boring, and pawns off those responsibilities to the other members of his department.
Name: Dr. Elowen Thorne
Position: Chief Medical Officer
Rank: Lieutenant
Species: Blood Elf (Cyber-Mod)
Bio: Elowen is an Elven Doctor who has undergone extensive cybernetic enhancements to excel in her role. With the ability to download pertinent medical knowledge directly into her brain via neural spikes, she can quickly adapt to treat the countless species encountered in her travels. Her enhancements allow her to access vast databases of medical information, ensuring that she can quickly prepare herself for any situation. Elowen's ethereal Elven grace, combined with the precision of her cybernetic augmentations, give her an almost otherworldly presence. Her movements are fluid yet unnervingly precise, and her demeanor is calm but slightly detached, despite her efforts to appear friendly, this can make people uneasy around her.
Name: Nancy
Position: Chief Operations Officer
Rank: Lieutenant
Species: Dwarf
Bio: Nancy was but a small boy when Corporate uplifted the realm in which he was born. From that day forward, his heart longed not for the deep mines of his ancestors, but for the uncharted depths of space. Despite his unconventional aspirations, Nancy embodies many of the stereotypical traits of his kind: he is an expert at smithing and crafting, with a meticulous attention to detail, a stubborn determination, and a propensity for hard alcohol. His gruff exterior and no-nonsense attitude make him a formidable presence on the ship, but his loyalty to his crew is unwavering. However, one should not make fun of his name unless they wish to lose their teeth!
Name: Dreams-Of-Starlight
Position: Helm Officer
Rank: Ensign
Species: Than-Thre-Kull (Chem-Mod)
Bio: Restless, passionate, and eternally optimistic, Ensign Dreams-Of-Starlight is the youngest member of the crew at only eight years old, which is equivalent to mid-20s in human years. Hailing from an insectoid species that thrives in hives with billions of others, her assignment on the Gilded Caravan, far from her kind, would naturally induce severe anxiety and depression. However, thanks to chemical modification, she maintains a perpetually sunny and slightly hyper demeanor. Her boundless energy and enthusiasm often brighten the dim corridors of the ship, making her a beloved, if sometimes exhausting, presence among the crew.
Name: Cerdan
Position: Communications / Magical Advisor
Rank: Archdruid (not in chain of command)
Species: Human-s-U4 (Lich)
Bio: Cerdan is a lich of terrifying magical prowess, having existed for thousands of years. His prolonged state of undeath has stripped him of any interest in mortal concerns, and he places no value on mortal life. This detachment has led to his removal from the standard chain of command, allowing him to focus solely on his true passions: the acquisition of power and the study of magic across the multiverse. Cerdan is one of the few who remember the Company's origins as WebbCo, and he has witnessed its transformation over the millennia. His ultimate ambition is to achieve godhood, a goal that some of his old acquaintances in Corporate have already attained. Corporate holds his phylactery, ensuring his unwavering loyalty to them.
Resources
Mingo
Son of a Hazmot
- Joined
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Resources (Up to Date)
The Gilded Caravan.
A star cruiser that looks nice on the outside but is a barely-functioning POS on the inside. It has just suffered an unknown amount of damage from being shot through a portal. Oh, and whatever crap was on it too, mostly fuel and parts.
Crew Compliment: 84 (before the portal)
Remnants of Archold-12
When the Archold was destroyed by a minor eldritch god, several large pieces of it were sent careening through the portal, their sizes ranging from miles-wide to the size of a house. The Archold was constructed from a magical black stone that conducts magic very well, so some of those pieces might still be good for something. Among the remnants, there might possibly be one intact or mostly-intact shuttle.
The Gilded Caravan.
A star cruiser that looks nice on the outside but is a barely-functioning POS on the inside. It has just suffered an unknown amount of damage from being shot through a portal. Oh, and whatever crap was on it too, mostly fuel and parts.
Crew Compliment: 84 (before the portal)
Remnants of Archold-12
When the Archold was destroyed by a minor eldritch god, several large pieces of it were sent careening through the portal, their sizes ranging from miles-wide to the size of a house. The Archold was constructed from a magical black stone that conducts magic very well, so some of those pieces might still be good for something. Among the remnants, there might possibly be one intact or mostly-intact shuttle.