“I still don’t get it.” His words echoed into the metal crevasse which normally hosted one of the seven turret hardpoints. “It just seems like a bunch of asshole shit to me. No offence.”
“None taken, but you’re only partially right, Nef.” Her response was casual, but it was nothing new. Most who lived as immortals among men maintained a constant air of disinterest. Ary had been on the cusp of such a mentality since she became a capsuleer, but it seemed her time in The Swarm exacerbated that particular personality trait.
Nef was Ary’s nephew and gunnery man. He also boasted the honor of being the only person Ary trusted with her ships and equipment. The moniker was not his birth name, but a familial nickname she gave him when they were children. She was the only one who ever called him Nef. If anyone else did, usually found themselves on the receiving end of a black eye.
“They cried for blood. We are simply answering the call.” The indifference in her tone bothered him slightly, but she didn’t seem to care. “It’s a basic tenant of survival if you think about it. I’ll give you an example. You find yourself in a thick jungle, unfamiliar territory. You see one of the people in your travel party go down. Is screaming out into the darkness, into the dense thick unknown for help, your best option for survival?”
He knew instantly it was a metaphor for what transpired a month ago. The Chairman, leader of The Swarm, has been sentenced to a Concord sanctioned cloning freeze. During a public festival; the leader of the large alliance and (at the time) Council of Stellar Management went into a crass tirade singling out a specific pilot and encouraging some pretty heinous behavior in a rather grotesque display. The alcohol fueled display was disgusting, but most didn’t bat an eye... until the result of this year’s polls came in.
The announcement of his re-appointment caused backlash almost as volatile as The Jita Riots. Pilots from all regions were howling for blood. Some simply wanted The Chairman removed from office and others screamed for his final death. The pressure for Concord sanctioned action was so strong they had no choice but to give in. The Chairman was given a 30 day freeze and through a technicality he was removed from office. The sentence was taken with grace, but the ordeal roused new bloodlust throughout the coalition. To mark his release The Swarm and their allies intended to celebrate the best way they knew how; utter destruction and annihilation.
Nef watched Ary as he considered her question, but she didn’t seem to notice. The majority of her focus was trained on the holo-tablet in her hands. Even though she seemed distracted, he knew she was studying and testing him. What did she want him to see? Nef sat up from his reclined position, his large form slightly hunched. Full lips pursed as his mind milled over her question. Dirty, grease stained fingernails scratched at the scruff of his beard. Then, suddenly, it struck him.
“No. That’s the worst thing you could do.” Nef startled himself as the words left from his mouth.
“Why?” The answer from him in low, cool tone.
“Because when you scream out anyone can hear you. Friend or foe.”
“And we have heard them.” He watched as a dark smile curled at the edges of her mouth. He watched her approach him with the same grace a dangerous animal uses to stalk their prey. Her fingers danced deftly over the holo-tablet in her hand. The image projected changed from a Thrasher to a Hulk. “However, it goes deeper. What do you see?”
“A Hulk.” Nef responded numbly.
“And now?” Her fingers swiped over the screen and the image flickered shifting into a jump freighter.”
“An Anshar.” Nef’s response came a little slowly this time, but it wasn’t due to lack of ship knowledge. She knew he studied at Pator Tech School, so what was she trying to prove?
“And now?” The holo-image flicked a final time.
“An Orca.”
“Now, why would it benefit The Swarm to destroy these ships?” She gently laid the tablet down on the large fitting console positioned near the edge of the ship hanger. “What little side project would...”
“OTEC.” He was breathless as the word left his lips. Nef was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn’t realize her cut off nor did he realize he was holding his breath. His response did seem to please her.
“And what better way to show them the error of their ways then to have them pay us to destroy them.” The sweetness of her voice frightened him more than the darkness that laced her tone, but her smile. Her smile terrified him. “Like I said, you were partially right. It’s part business and part... re-education. Being an asshole is simply a perk.”
Showing posts with label Happy Monday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Happy Monday. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
[Happy Monday] The Fashionista
“You look absolutely stunning!” Clara gasped in delight as Ary emerged from the changing stall. Her words were breathless as she stood up from one of the overstuffed armchairs and approached the other woman.
Clara was one of those people you could only describe as delightful. She was sweet, charming and gentile with just enough sass and spirit to keep her on the level. Her smile was brilliant and sincere and the blonde that framed her face seemed to make her pale complexion glow with the warmth of a pink sun. Normally that smile was contagious. Normally.
Ary, on the other hand, was the very picture of unenthusiastic. Her lips were tight and her expression severe and stone set. Her posture mirrored her annoyance as she stood stiff in the open doorway. She stared at Clara for a moment before shaking her head in defeat and walking towards the viewing mirrors.
Her distaste magnified once she saw her reflection. Dark eyes rolled towards the back of her head as she got an eyeful of herself in the outfit. She turned toward her friend. Clara could see that Ary had arrived at “the line.” A long sigh pushed passed her lips. The frown formed the moment her mouth closed.
“I look like a tool. Who even wears this shit?”
“State officials, high ranking military officers, various public figures, the wealthy and elite…” The obviously masculine, but delicately intoned voice paused. “… and then those that should consider themselves lucky.”
Ri’chard Faliieur was a Gallente fashion designer. Once a lowly cog in a textile factory, holo-images of his designs caught the eye of one of the fashion houses that now dominated the NeX Market. His rise to fame and status was near overnight, but the entitled attitude of a fashionista was something he seemed well versed in.
“Not to mention you’re simply wearing it all wrong.” His eyes fluttered as he moved towards the capsuleer in a huff. “I hardly appreciate the design on you and it’s my design.”
The furrier he carried in his right arm was gently placed onto the ottoman that sat in front of Carla’s former seat. The rodent like creature skittered to the edge towards its Master before sitting and casting out a small whine and sneeze.
Faliieur ignored the creature as his attention was focused on the wild pod pilot that stood before him. His hands worked quickly to adjust the uniform style dress Ary wore. It really wasn’t that bad.
It was a dark green color with small golden buttons down the front, on each breast pocket and on the cuffed sleeves. It was a simple design with neat pleats that made her look quiet official. The cut of the dress fit nicely to her curves. The length was short enough to show off a modest amount of thigh and the part of her calf the knee high boots didn’t cover. She looked stunning and the extra cleavage that showed when he straighten the hem line and adjusted her breasts didn’t hurt either.
“Hey! Watch it!” Ary shouted in shock. Her body automatically flinching back as the design got a bit too close for comfort.
“Oh please. I’ve touched all kinds of breasts and mine are bigger than yours anyway.” Faliieur quipped back as he continued about his task undeterred.
Faliieur was a portly man, but he carried it well. He was dressed in one of his own creations which a play on the Amarrian robe style. The tunic he wore was a rich pale blue material with elaborate patterns sticked in silver and sparkling green thread. Silver rings with green and blue gems flickered on his chubby fingers.
“Now, I just need to get the finishing touches. I’ll be back shortly... Ladies.” The final word was drawn out and his eye cut to Ary. Clara shot Ary a nervous glance as Faliieur departed.
“Ary, you promised!” Clara whispered urgently once Faliieur was out of ear shot. “This could be a huge contract for my corporation. I know you’re not into fashion or the NeX store, but the low and null sec markets have barely been touched. I know it’s a weird request, but he insisted on a... native.”
Ary’s left eyebrow rose, but she said nothing.
“Native of Null Sec.” This time it was Clara’s eyes rolling. “He wanted someone edgy, fierce and beautiful. Of course I thought of you first.”
“See... this is how I get mixed up in all the wrong things.” Ary’s voice and expression were still flat. “Some awesome person that I consider my friend goes around flinging incredibly accurate compliments.”
A sign of submission came as Ary finally smile, though faintly. Clara made it it difficult to be angry at any given length of time. “You owe me big time.”
“More than you know..” Clara’s words trailed off. A grimace coming to her face as Faliieur returned with the accessories.
Clara was one of those people you could only describe as delightful. She was sweet, charming and gentile with just enough sass and spirit to keep her on the level. Her smile was brilliant and sincere and the blonde that framed her face seemed to make her pale complexion glow with the warmth of a pink sun. Normally that smile was contagious. Normally.
Ary, on the other hand, was the very picture of unenthusiastic. Her lips were tight and her expression severe and stone set. Her posture mirrored her annoyance as she stood stiff in the open doorway. She stared at Clara for a moment before shaking her head in defeat and walking towards the viewing mirrors.
Her distaste magnified once she saw her reflection. Dark eyes rolled towards the back of her head as she got an eyeful of herself in the outfit. She turned toward her friend. Clara could see that Ary had arrived at “the line.” A long sigh pushed passed her lips. The frown formed the moment her mouth closed.
“I look like a tool. Who even wears this shit?”
“State officials, high ranking military officers, various public figures, the wealthy and elite…” The obviously masculine, but delicately intoned voice paused. “… and then those that should consider themselves lucky.”
Ri’chard Faliieur was a Gallente fashion designer. Once a lowly cog in a textile factory, holo-images of his designs caught the eye of one of the fashion houses that now dominated the NeX Market. His rise to fame and status was near overnight, but the entitled attitude of a fashionista was something he seemed well versed in.
“Not to mention you’re simply wearing it all wrong.” His eyes fluttered as he moved towards the capsuleer in a huff. “I hardly appreciate the design on you and it’s my design.”
The furrier he carried in his right arm was gently placed onto the ottoman that sat in front of Carla’s former seat. The rodent like creature skittered to the edge towards its Master before sitting and casting out a small whine and sneeze.
Faliieur ignored the creature as his attention was focused on the wild pod pilot that stood before him. His hands worked quickly to adjust the uniform style dress Ary wore. It really wasn’t that bad.
It was a dark green color with small golden buttons down the front, on each breast pocket and on the cuffed sleeves. It was a simple design with neat pleats that made her look quiet official. The cut of the dress fit nicely to her curves. The length was short enough to show off a modest amount of thigh and the part of her calf the knee high boots didn’t cover. She looked stunning and the extra cleavage that showed when he straighten the hem line and adjusted her breasts didn’t hurt either.
“Hey! Watch it!” Ary shouted in shock. Her body automatically flinching back as the design got a bit too close for comfort.
“Oh please. I’ve touched all kinds of breasts and mine are bigger than yours anyway.” Faliieur quipped back as he continued about his task undeterred.
Faliieur was a portly man, but he carried it well. He was dressed in one of his own creations which a play on the Amarrian robe style. The tunic he wore was a rich pale blue material with elaborate patterns sticked in silver and sparkling green thread. Silver rings with green and blue gems flickered on his chubby fingers.
“Now, I just need to get the finishing touches. I’ll be back shortly... Ladies.” The final word was drawn out and his eye cut to Ary. Clara shot Ary a nervous glance as Faliieur departed.
“Ary, you promised!” Clara whispered urgently once Faliieur was out of ear shot. “This could be a huge contract for my corporation. I know you’re not into fashion or the NeX store, but the low and null sec markets have barely been touched. I know it’s a weird request, but he insisted on a... native.”
Ary’s left eyebrow rose, but she said nothing.
“Native of Null Sec.” This time it was Clara’s eyes rolling. “He wanted someone edgy, fierce and beautiful. Of course I thought of you first.”
“See... this is how I get mixed up in all the wrong things.” Ary’s voice and expression were still flat. “Some awesome person that I consider my friend goes around flinging incredibly accurate compliments.”
A sign of submission came as Ary finally smile, though faintly. Clara made it it difficult to be angry at any given length of time. “You owe me big time.”
“More than you know..” Clara’s words trailed off. A grimace coming to her face as Faliieur returned with the accessories.
Monday, March 19, 2012
[Happy Monday] Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ships
I'm posting a little later in the day than I normally do, but I think you'll find the post well worth the wait. I've been working on a little something special for this week's Happy Monday. It's something I think you'll enjoy.
I've had commercials on the brain for quiet sometime. They're a strange interest and hobby of mine and have been so for a few years. I've done a couple of Eve Online commercials, but they've all been audio only. I think today is the day that I'm going to branch out further into another medium.
I present to you the first of possibly many video commercials made for New Eden. This particular one features an organization knows as the SPCS. or Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ships. You'll see the commercial is similar to a rather infamous commercial.
Take a look, tell me what you think. Hopefully with the new graphics card and a little more video editing practice under my belt, this could turn in to something pretty entertaining.
I've had commercials on the brain for quiet sometime. They're a strange interest and hobby of mine and have been so for a few years. I've done a couple of Eve Online commercials, but they've all been audio only. I think today is the day that I'm going to branch out further into another medium.
I present to you the first of possibly many video commercials made for New Eden. This particular one features an organization knows as the SPCS. or Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ships. You'll see the commercial is similar to a rather infamous commercial.
Take a look, tell me what you think. Hopefully with the new graphics card and a little more video editing practice under my belt, this could turn in to something pretty entertaining.
Monday, March 12, 2012
[Happy Monday] The Right Vision
“And the kid is still lookin’ good!” The proclamation came from the steel stair railing that looked down to the ship hanger bay. There stood a young Matari man. His head was clean shaven. It shone from the glare of the bright lights that hung at dizzying heights above. He was tall with a wiry build. Thick cargo pants and flight jacket covered tee shirt hung loose on his frame.
“You know, Kuvakei could take some lessons from me because I make these implants look goooood.” His smile grew larger as he boasted. The last word drawn out for emphasis as he descended the stairs towards the two that stood at the engineering podium. His arms were out stretched and a cocky grin hung on his lips as he invited his audience to view him.
Avery Louis had changed dramatically over the course of the week. A brush with death could do that to a man; at least a mortal man. A few months ago he had taken the position of Engineer aboard “Boo.” Before it’s destruction it was a Hound, a Tech 2 Minmatar Stealth Bomber. On its last mission it was deployed to engage in a set of classified covert “hot drops” which ended in Ary & Avery Louis both in their pods. For the pod pilot it was just another op. For baseliner, it was very different. He cheated death.
Ary looked up from the spinning hologram of the new ship projected from the console. Cool dark eyes watched him descend. A hint of a smile lingered on her lips. An unimpressed snort came from the white coated fitting specialist who hadn’t bothered to turn around. His attention was focused on the spike of the power grid readings as the covert ops cloaking device was brought on-line.
“So, what do you think? Not bad for my first real battle scar, right?” Avery Louis lifted his head to show off now milky white eye and the scar that ran though it.
“And you got a new war tattoo.” Ary mused.
Her hand reached up to his dark skin as he approached her. Her thumb brushed under the fresh black ink that outlined the marred eye and traced off towards his upper ear. Pride blossomed on her face and softened her features. As emotion bubbling over the crack of flesh up on flesh broke into the air.
“Ow!” Avery Louis winced and cried out from strike. Ary’s hand had reached up to slap him across the back of his head. While unexpected, it was a sign of affection more than anything else. His head was brought toward her shoulder as she embraced him and give him a quick kiss to the cheek.
“I’m proud of you Little Nephew.” The tender piece of praise was quietly spoken into his ear. They were Matari after all.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” Avery Louis chide with an embarrassed laugh. “There’s hardly anything little about me and age shouldn’t count if you’re an immortal.”
His chest would puff up slightly as his Matari bravado began to show. He was right, there was nothing little about him. This was not the little boy that she swaddled and burped or the child she watched climb trees or run though the fields planet side. No, he was a man. Tattooed and scarred he was now a Matari man which meant even more.
“All in the eye of the beholder, but don’t forget…” Her tone dropped as humor mixed with sincerity. “… I’m still your boss.”
“Aye aye, Captian.” His tone was just as mocking as the half-assed salute he gave her. The two chuckled, but not everyone was as amused.
The white coated fitting specialist watched the two behind his thing framed spectacles. His face was long, angular and just as severe as his personality. Uninterested in the small reunion, he cleared his throat abruptly. His question asked before he bothered to see if the two were even paying attention.
“Have you made a decision on the lows? All other modules have been fit with the exception of the final low slot.” Subtle hints of agitation hung in the Amarrian’s tone.
“Two ballistics and a nano. It’s the same fitting we get every time…” Avery Louis’ shot his response back quickly and aggressively. He was never good with those he felt has ‘over stepped their bounds.’
“Well… after the last time I was thinking of maybe… beefing up the armor a bit. Just so…” Ary didn’t get the chance full explain before the engineer plunged in to a heated rebuttal.
“After one little hull loss from a frankly shitty bomb run now you want to add armor? No. That’s just… it… It doesn’t make any sense. We need that agility.” His voice echoed off the metal that surrounded them as he grew louder in his agitation.
Ary on the other hand remained cool and quiet. Her voice would drop from his normal tone to almost a whisper as she watched his anger roil. “It’s not because of one bombing run. It’s because of all the future bombing runs. As Captain and Capsuleer I have…”
“Don’t start with that bullshit!” The words were growled from clinched teeth. He turned away from her. His hand came to his face and his thumb rubbed the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm his self. His paced to refrain from loosing his temper, but his anger was already clear on his features from the flare of his nostrils to the wild dilation of his good eye. He would turn back to Ary sharply once his thoughts were collected.
“Your responsibility is to shoot down those mother fuckers before they shoot us down.” His finger was pushed in to her shoulder and then out to some distant unknown enemy. “That. That is your responsibility. My responsibility is that hull and its function and I’ll be damned I let you fuck it up with some bullshit fit.”
“That fit is not bullshit. The hull is paper thin as it is and all you’re doing it is stripping the structure for a minor bonus to inertia and velocity. We were over half way into armor with no option to repair. If we had that extra armor…”
“If we had extra armor then what? I’d still have my eye? Is that what this is about? An eye that’s been replaced with an implant worth millions of ISK and the honor of adding to my war tattoos? Are you really that fucking selfish?”
It was hard to see, but the faint flush of red was starting to build against the warm bronze of Ary’s skin. Her jaws clinched and her eyes narrowed as she and Avery Louis went toe-to-toe. While the two displayed their annoyance very differently; it was clear that both felt the other was treading on thin ice. The fitting specialist was smart to keep out of the way and out of the view of the two Matari.
“It seems you’ve forgotten little nephew.” Her voice remained calm, but her words were razor sharp. “These are MY ships. These are MY fittings. You are MY engineer. I am the immortal one that has shrugged off the ash of countless explosions. You have narrowly survived one and are you are the end all and be all of fittings?”
The thick jacket she wore was shrugged off and thrown to the floor. Her skin exposed, but even with only a sport bra to cover her, one could hardly say her flesh was bare. Avery Louis stepped towards her once more, but stopped. His mouth left hung open as his words caught in his throat.
They covered her in sprawling clusters, the war tattoos. Intricate and mesmerizing designs ran up and down her arms, over her collar bone and over the tops of her breasts. They even circled to her back and met between her shoulder blades trailing down her spine. The black and blood red of the ink sang tales of glory, loss and sacrifice. Each mark and stroke made with its own significance.
A heavy silence hung in the room as the two stood face to face. Ary and Avery Louis’s eyes were locked, but neither spoke or moved for a time. Slowly, in the midst of calm reflection, their anger gave way to mutual sense. A long sigh came from Avery Louis and his large hand ran over his bald head while Ary inhaled deeply as she stooped down to pick up the discarded jacket and slide it back over her shoulders.
“If you love me.” He finally spoke in a defeated tone. “You won’t do me this disservice. And I know you love me Auntie.”
He back away without another word and turned to make his way back up the stairs. Once Avery Louis disappeared from view, a faint clearing of a throat caught her attention. She turned and suddenly remembered the fitting specialist had been there the whole time.
“If I may…?” That high and mighty tone the Ammarians were known for ringing clear.
“No you may not.” Ary quipped back. “Just fit the damn nanofiber internal structure and get it insured.”
“You know, Kuvakei could take some lessons from me because I make these implants look goooood.” His smile grew larger as he boasted. The last word drawn out for emphasis as he descended the stairs towards the two that stood at the engineering podium. His arms were out stretched and a cocky grin hung on his lips as he invited his audience to view him.
Avery Louis had changed dramatically over the course of the week. A brush with death could do that to a man; at least a mortal man. A few months ago he had taken the position of Engineer aboard “Boo.” Before it’s destruction it was a Hound, a Tech 2 Minmatar Stealth Bomber. On its last mission it was deployed to engage in a set of classified covert “hot drops” which ended in Ary & Avery Louis both in their pods. For the pod pilot it was just another op. For baseliner, it was very different. He cheated death.
Ary looked up from the spinning hologram of the new ship projected from the console. Cool dark eyes watched him descend. A hint of a smile lingered on her lips. An unimpressed snort came from the white coated fitting specialist who hadn’t bothered to turn around. His attention was focused on the spike of the power grid readings as the covert ops cloaking device was brought on-line.
“So, what do you think? Not bad for my first real battle scar, right?” Avery Louis lifted his head to show off now milky white eye and the scar that ran though it.
“And you got a new war tattoo.” Ary mused.
Her hand reached up to his dark skin as he approached her. Her thumb brushed under the fresh black ink that outlined the marred eye and traced off towards his upper ear. Pride blossomed on her face and softened her features. As emotion bubbling over the crack of flesh up on flesh broke into the air.
“Ow!” Avery Louis winced and cried out from strike. Ary’s hand had reached up to slap him across the back of his head. While unexpected, it was a sign of affection more than anything else. His head was brought toward her shoulder as she embraced him and give him a quick kiss to the cheek.
“I’m proud of you Little Nephew.” The tender piece of praise was quietly spoken into his ear. They were Matari after all.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” Avery Louis chide with an embarrassed laugh. “There’s hardly anything little about me and age shouldn’t count if you’re an immortal.”
His chest would puff up slightly as his Matari bravado began to show. He was right, there was nothing little about him. This was not the little boy that she swaddled and burped or the child she watched climb trees or run though the fields planet side. No, he was a man. Tattooed and scarred he was now a Matari man which meant even more.
“All in the eye of the beholder, but don’t forget…” Her tone dropped as humor mixed with sincerity. “… I’m still your boss.”
“Aye aye, Captian.” His tone was just as mocking as the half-assed salute he gave her. The two chuckled, but not everyone was as amused.
The white coated fitting specialist watched the two behind his thing framed spectacles. His face was long, angular and just as severe as his personality. Uninterested in the small reunion, he cleared his throat abruptly. His question asked before he bothered to see if the two were even paying attention.
“Have you made a decision on the lows? All other modules have been fit with the exception of the final low slot.” Subtle hints of agitation hung in the Amarrian’s tone.
“Two ballistics and a nano. It’s the same fitting we get every time…” Avery Louis’ shot his response back quickly and aggressively. He was never good with those he felt has ‘over stepped their bounds.’
“Well… after the last time I was thinking of maybe… beefing up the armor a bit. Just so…” Ary didn’t get the chance full explain before the engineer plunged in to a heated rebuttal.
“After one little hull loss from a frankly shitty bomb run now you want to add armor? No. That’s just… it… It doesn’t make any sense. We need that agility.” His voice echoed off the metal that surrounded them as he grew louder in his agitation.
Ary on the other hand remained cool and quiet. Her voice would drop from his normal tone to almost a whisper as she watched his anger roil. “It’s not because of one bombing run. It’s because of all the future bombing runs. As Captain and Capsuleer I have…”
“Don’t start with that bullshit!” The words were growled from clinched teeth. He turned away from her. His hand came to his face and his thumb rubbed the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm his self. His paced to refrain from loosing his temper, but his anger was already clear on his features from the flare of his nostrils to the wild dilation of his good eye. He would turn back to Ary sharply once his thoughts were collected.
“Your responsibility is to shoot down those mother fuckers before they shoot us down.” His finger was pushed in to her shoulder and then out to some distant unknown enemy. “That. That is your responsibility. My responsibility is that hull and its function and I’ll be damned I let you fuck it up with some bullshit fit.”
“That fit is not bullshit. The hull is paper thin as it is and all you’re doing it is stripping the structure for a minor bonus to inertia and velocity. We were over half way into armor with no option to repair. If we had that extra armor…”
“If we had extra armor then what? I’d still have my eye? Is that what this is about? An eye that’s been replaced with an implant worth millions of ISK and the honor of adding to my war tattoos? Are you really that fucking selfish?”
It was hard to see, but the faint flush of red was starting to build against the warm bronze of Ary’s skin. Her jaws clinched and her eyes narrowed as she and Avery Louis went toe-to-toe. While the two displayed their annoyance very differently; it was clear that both felt the other was treading on thin ice. The fitting specialist was smart to keep out of the way and out of the view of the two Matari.
“It seems you’ve forgotten little nephew.” Her voice remained calm, but her words were razor sharp. “These are MY ships. These are MY fittings. You are MY engineer. I am the immortal one that has shrugged off the ash of countless explosions. You have narrowly survived one and are you are the end all and be all of fittings?”
The thick jacket she wore was shrugged off and thrown to the floor. Her skin exposed, but even with only a sport bra to cover her, one could hardly say her flesh was bare. Avery Louis stepped towards her once more, but stopped. His mouth left hung open as his words caught in his throat.
They covered her in sprawling clusters, the war tattoos. Intricate and mesmerizing designs ran up and down her arms, over her collar bone and over the tops of her breasts. They even circled to her back and met between her shoulder blades trailing down her spine. The black and blood red of the ink sang tales of glory, loss and sacrifice. Each mark and stroke made with its own significance.
A heavy silence hung in the room as the two stood face to face. Ary and Avery Louis’s eyes were locked, but neither spoke or moved for a time. Slowly, in the midst of calm reflection, their anger gave way to mutual sense. A long sigh came from Avery Louis and his large hand ran over his bald head while Ary inhaled deeply as she stooped down to pick up the discarded jacket and slide it back over her shoulders.
“If you love me.” He finally spoke in a defeated tone. “You won’t do me this disservice. And I know you love me Auntie.”
He back away without another word and turned to make his way back up the stairs. Once Avery Louis disappeared from view, a faint clearing of a throat caught her attention. She turned and suddenly remembered the fitting specialist had been there the whole time.
“If I may…?” That high and mighty tone the Ammarians were known for ringing clear.
“No you may not.” Ary quipped back. “Just fit the damn nanofiber internal structure and get it insured.”
Monday, March 5, 2012
[Happy Monday] Choices
“So who’s it going to be?” The question came abruptly. His tenor easily reached across the room. The man asking approached the table with a half cocked swagger. Mitchell was notorious for walking around like he owned the place, only this time he did as they were in his quarters.
Captian’s Quarter’s. What a joke. They were more like hovels with a couch, a few expensive screens and a cot. Even with their limited amenities and janitor's closet similarities; the rooms went for ISK and that alone made them luxury items. If the rooms were a joke their status was certainly the punchline.
He used his boot to kick out the chair across from her. A satisfied sign came as he dropped in to the seat. One of the cans he was carrying was pushed towards her while he own was cracked open while he spoke. “You have to make a decision sooner or later, plus... it’s not like there’s really that much of a selection to choose from.”
Ary said nothing for the moment. She choose to bide her time by giving entirely too much attention to the metallic can. Her thumb gingerly brushed over the surface sliding away the thin film of precipitation. The tips of her index and middle fingers curled around the tab to slowly crack open the can of Quafe and taking a long drink.
The answer would eventually come in the form of a faint shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes drifted off towards the large screens on the far wall as a bounty advertisement came up. A silent hope made that he didn’t press the issue. “I wonder if they’re going to take a look at the bounty system this cycle. Most of them are just... badges of honor.”
“Oh fuck that. You’re gonna fucking tell me.” He took the half empty and crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket and pulled one out before tossing the pack to the table and lighting it. A hard exhale sent a burst of smoke in the air. “What? It’s only the Council of Stellar Management. They’re just a handful of high-profile capsuleers that attempt to give Concord useful advice about ship spec regulations and policy which they don’t usually listen to. Not that they have to listen. All it really amounts to is a special tag on GalNet. Not like I asked you to name your past life in a bowl of leaves or whatever weird shit your people do.”
“You’re an ass and that’s not and accurate assessment. What about this summer with the NeX Store and the new currency. A good portion of New Eden was in arms. Another portion just... couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like the cluster fell in to depression.” Her voice drifted off. A few seconds of silence passed as scenes of Jita, dissidence, rage & chaos flickered through her mind.
“They helped fix it. Got Concord on the right path. Again. Or finally. Never really sure which one. They were able to get some of the blaster and railgun restrictions removed. They pushed the permits to allow some of the shipyards to release new hulls... I’m not saying that it was all them, but they helped. They were able to collect the last bit of momentum that was needed for Concord to see the light. Just like the past ones have helped or tried to help in different ways.”
“Well, all eyes on Concord right now. These war declaration sanctions and proposed changes to the factional warfare agreements are a big deal.” Another lengthy drag was taken from the cigarette. His finger tapping absently against the lid of the can. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“I know, but haven’t decided yea. It’s just that..”
“No. Fuck that. There’s only a handful of viable candidates.” He cut her off before she could finish. The call to a bluff she hadn’t made yet. “The bloc candidates and then the real contenders. Yea, there’s 40 something of them running, but you already know which ones are most likely going to get in to the top 14. Plus you’re not going to waste your vote on a long shot. Plus... shouldn’t your vote already be spoken for anyway.”
She rolled her eyes as he rattled on. Another long drink of Quafe taken. The corners of her mouth turned down as a sudden bitter hit. The can turned to check the expiration date. They were out in low sec. Mitchell had moved to a little Caldari system that had a nice high sec entry and a fair amount of traffic flow. Still, there was no telling when his last supply run in to Jita was.
“Are you done?” Her tone flat and her expression unamused.
“Yes.” He tried to mock her expression. The dramatics were rewarded with a quick snort of stifled laughter and roll of her eyes.
“You’re right on all of those counts. Which is why I haven’t decided. Do I vote with my brethren and call it a day or do I give that vote to someone who needs it? Who would make the best use of it? And you’re right. The war declaration sanctions and the faction warfare stuff is a big deal. It needs to go well and I think it’s important that Concord has the right people in their eyes. There’s a few more candidates I need to research, but I have a bit more time.”
“Plus you’ve never been known for doing what you’re told.” He leaned back and gave her a long glance. “Just sayin’.”
Captian’s Quarter’s. What a joke. They were more like hovels with a couch, a few expensive screens and a cot. Even with their limited amenities and janitor's closet similarities; the rooms went for ISK and that alone made them luxury items. If the rooms were a joke their status was certainly the punchline.
He used his boot to kick out the chair across from her. A satisfied sign came as he dropped in to the seat. One of the cans he was carrying was pushed towards her while he own was cracked open while he spoke. “You have to make a decision sooner or later, plus... it’s not like there’s really that much of a selection to choose from.”
Ary said nothing for the moment. She choose to bide her time by giving entirely too much attention to the metallic can. Her thumb gingerly brushed over the surface sliding away the thin film of precipitation. The tips of her index and middle fingers curled around the tab to slowly crack open the can of Quafe and taking a long drink.
The answer would eventually come in the form of a faint shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes drifted off towards the large screens on the far wall as a bounty advertisement came up. A silent hope made that he didn’t press the issue. “I wonder if they’re going to take a look at the bounty system this cycle. Most of them are just... badges of honor.”
“Oh fuck that. You’re gonna fucking tell me.” He took the half empty and crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket and pulled one out before tossing the pack to the table and lighting it. A hard exhale sent a burst of smoke in the air. “What? It’s only the Council of Stellar Management. They’re just a handful of high-profile capsuleers that attempt to give Concord useful advice about ship spec regulations and policy which they don’t usually listen to. Not that they have to listen. All it really amounts to is a special tag on GalNet. Not like I asked you to name your past life in a bowl of leaves or whatever weird shit your people do.”
“You’re an ass and that’s not and accurate assessment. What about this summer with the NeX Store and the new currency. A good portion of New Eden was in arms. Another portion just... couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like the cluster fell in to depression.” Her voice drifted off. A few seconds of silence passed as scenes of Jita, dissidence, rage & chaos flickered through her mind.
“They helped fix it. Got Concord on the right path. Again. Or finally. Never really sure which one. They were able to get some of the blaster and railgun restrictions removed. They pushed the permits to allow some of the shipyards to release new hulls... I’m not saying that it was all them, but they helped. They were able to collect the last bit of momentum that was needed for Concord to see the light. Just like the past ones have helped or tried to help in different ways.”
“Well, all eyes on Concord right now. These war declaration sanctions and proposed changes to the factional warfare agreements are a big deal.” Another lengthy drag was taken from the cigarette. His finger tapping absently against the lid of the can. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“I know, but haven’t decided yea. It’s just that..”
“No. Fuck that. There’s only a handful of viable candidates.” He cut her off before she could finish. The call to a bluff she hadn’t made yet. “The bloc candidates and then the real contenders. Yea, there’s 40 something of them running, but you already know which ones are most likely going to get in to the top 14. Plus you’re not going to waste your vote on a long shot. Plus... shouldn’t your vote already be spoken for anyway.”
She rolled her eyes as he rattled on. Another long drink of Quafe taken. The corners of her mouth turned down as a sudden bitter hit. The can turned to check the expiration date. They were out in low sec. Mitchell had moved to a little Caldari system that had a nice high sec entry and a fair amount of traffic flow. Still, there was no telling when his last supply run in to Jita was.
“Are you done?” Her tone flat and her expression unamused.
“Yes.” He tried to mock her expression. The dramatics were rewarded with a quick snort of stifled laughter and roll of her eyes.
“You’re right on all of those counts. Which is why I haven’t decided. Do I vote with my brethren and call it a day or do I give that vote to someone who needs it? Who would make the best use of it? And you’re right. The war declaration sanctions and the faction warfare stuff is a big deal. It needs to go well and I think it’s important that Concord has the right people in their eyes. There’s a few more candidates I need to research, but I have a bit more time.”
“Plus you’ve never been known for doing what you’re told.” He leaned back and gave her a long glance. “Just sayin’.”
Monday, February 27, 2012
[Happy Monday] United Technologies of CreoDron
The Story
Normally on Happy Monday, I do some fiction writing. Well, I should say in the past I’ve occasionally released a fiction piece on Monday. Happy Monday is supposed to be a weekly feature of the blog, but I suck at doing the weekly blog thing. I do hope to keep this particular feature steady in the future. In keeping with that hope (and with commitment I made last year), I present you fiction of the audio kind.
Last December, I wrote a blog post detailing an ambitious idea. The idea was to take the power of the Eve community and use it for some kind of crazy, fun role-play project. After finding an old CreoDron ad that I had written; I had my project. I was going to turn the ad in to a type of United Colors of Bennington spoof which morphed the ad in to a “United Technologies of CreoDron” advertising campaign.
The campaign caught on better than I expected. 13 capsuleers lent their voices to make this project a success. The best vocal contribution came from Kirith Kodatchi who voiced several different readings including something a little Yoda-ish & some strange cocktail of Scottish, Irish and Canadian. The best surprise came from Rixx Javix who created an absolutely astounding background to go along with the campaign.
I want to give a big thank you to all the Eve Online Community members who pitched in with their talents. All of you are what make this game and this community great. The you for sharing some of the best talent this side of the Eve Gate.
Awesome People Roll Call
Adhar Khorin
Chain
Eenbal
Kirith Kodatchi
Mean Harri
Mord Fiddle
Mut5umi
Nina Arens
Oreamnos
Pastrick B.
Rixx Javix
Skylah Fairchilde
Tsalaroth
Normally on Happy Monday, I do some fiction writing. Well, I should say in the past I’ve occasionally released a fiction piece on Monday. Happy Monday is supposed to be a weekly feature of the blog, but I suck at doing the weekly blog thing. I do hope to keep this particular feature steady in the future. In keeping with that hope (and with commitment I made last year), I present you fiction of the audio kind.
Last December, I wrote a blog post detailing an ambitious idea. The idea was to take the power of the Eve community and use it for some kind of crazy, fun role-play project. After finding an old CreoDron ad that I had written; I had my project. I was going to turn the ad in to a type of United Colors of Bennington spoof which morphed the ad in to a “United Technologies of CreoDron” advertising campaign.
The campaign caught on better than I expected. 13 capsuleers lent their voices to make this project a success. The best vocal contribution came from Kirith Kodatchi who voiced several different readings including something a little Yoda-ish & some strange cocktail of Scottish, Irish and Canadian. The best surprise came from Rixx Javix who created an absolutely astounding background to go along with the campaign.
I want to give a big thank you to all the Eve Online Community members who pitched in with their talents. All of you are what make this game and this community great. The you for sharing some of the best talent this side of the Eve Gate.
Awesome People Roll Call
Adhar Khorin
Chain
Eenbal
Kirith Kodatchi
Mean Harri
Mord Fiddle
Mut5umi
Nina Arens
Oreamnos
Pastrick B.
Rixx Javix
Skylah Fairchilde
Tsalaroth
Monday, January 2, 2012
[Happy Monday] War
The faint hum of static filled the vocal channel. It was only for a split second. Silence would return quickly, but as if on some rhythmic cue the faint hum would return. Again, it only last a few moment. *ClickClickStsssss*
“CHANGE YOUR FUCKING UP KEY, MILLER. YOU LAZY SONVABITCH.” While Ary was the only one to vocalize her rage, the entire fleet had grown tired of Miller’s accidental and constant unnecessary key ups. It was bad enough they were shooting at a pilot owned station, the intermittent static was only making the process more irritating.
“No, I don’t feel like.” Miller would respond back in his typical aloof fashion. If his clone wasn’t covered in pod goo in a state of suspended animation; he’d be smirking.
“Eh… she’s right, mate. That shit is really annoying.” Lade, who’s response was laced with a long yawn, added in his piece.
“Yea, but it’s cute when she goes all Crazy-Matari like that.” Miller had always known the right combination of buttons to push when it came to Ary. Some would call it a gift. Others would label it as a death wish.
Unfortunately for Miller, he allowed the success of irritating Ary distract him. Which the constant volleys of turret fire he didn’t notice that one set of auto cannons had changed targets. Slowly, the shield gauge of the Abbadon filled with red pixels. It wasn’t until the screech of the alarm that any of them knew something was amiss. “FUCK Ary! I’m almost in armor!.”
“You’re in an armor battleship. Stop being such a cry baby” Ary’s tones were filled with amusement event if there was a thin layer of malice.
“All DPS on the tower.” As usual, Kendrick’s orders were heeded. “And fix your up key Miller.”
“CHANGE YOUR FUCKING UP KEY, MILLER. YOU LAZY SONVABITCH.” While Ary was the only one to vocalize her rage, the entire fleet had grown tired of Miller’s accidental and constant unnecessary key ups. It was bad enough they were shooting at a pilot owned station, the intermittent static was only making the process more irritating.
“No, I don’t feel like.” Miller would respond back in his typical aloof fashion. If his clone wasn’t covered in pod goo in a state of suspended animation; he’d be smirking.
“Eh… she’s right, mate. That shit is really annoying.” Lade, who’s response was laced with a long yawn, added in his piece.
“Yea, but it’s cute when she goes all Crazy-Matari like that.” Miller had always known the right combination of buttons to push when it came to Ary. Some would call it a gift. Others would label it as a death wish.
Unfortunately for Miller, he allowed the success of irritating Ary distract him. Which the constant volleys of turret fire he didn’t notice that one set of auto cannons had changed targets. Slowly, the shield gauge of the Abbadon filled with red pixels. It wasn’t until the screech of the alarm that any of them knew something was amiss. “FUCK Ary! I’m almost in armor!.”
“You’re in an armor battleship. Stop being such a cry baby” Ary’s tones were filled with amusement event if there was a thin layer of malice.
“All DPS on the tower.” As usual, Kendrick’s orders were heeded. “And fix your up key Miller.”
+++++
It felt like it had been ages since she had seen the old crew. It was going on a few good months since she had slipped away into the darkness of space and set off on to her own once more. The crew was the closest thing to family she had experienced in a long time. Each day that passed held a fond memory. Even Miller’s ass-hattery became a fond recollection.
The box of generic Gallente made dry cereal was pulled off the counter. A handful of strange, yet colorful, bites were poured out from the box before being tossed into her mouth. The sweetness of cereal along with its crunch was satisfying, but that satisfaction would have to be placed on hold on.
As if on cue her neocom lit up with a new call. Another handful of cereal was stuffed in to her mouth before she jumped over the back of the couch, cereal box still in hand. Her body extended on the refined piece of furniture as reached over to accept the call.
“Mfphea.” It was only sound was she was able to utter out around the mouthful of cereal.
“Didn’t yo Momma teach you not to talk with your mouthful?” The familiar voice of Omarii came over the line. Even with his chastising, she smiled.
Ary and Omarri had always had a special kind of kinship. Omarii was one of the few pilots she felt close. They bond was one created from a myriad of reasons and shared experiences. He was more like a brother in arms to her than most of her current corporation mates and even though Ary had left the crew, they frequently kept in touch.
Silence lingered for a moment as she struggled to swallow down the mouthful of grain and protien. The box of cereal was haphazardly pushed over to the side table as she fought to quickly clear her mouth if only to get in some smart ass remark. Omarii would beat her to the punch in her moment of verbal defenselessness.
“Oh… so now it’s the silent treatment. I guess you really have taken to the Mongreal way.” A self satisfied grunt adding just enough playful insult to get Ary’s motor going.
“He roa te wā kua kitea, Asshole. Don’t come on my neocom spoutin’ off a bunch of mess. You called me during my relax time. Just be glad I picked up.”
In the corner of her neocom screen, where Omarii’s picture was… something different. The Mongrel enforced standing coding had turned from red to orange… The Crew had changed Alliances.
“So... Kei te pēhea koe? How are things going?” Ary’s tone had become cautious as her mind churned with the possibilities of The Crew’s new employer. She knew where to find the answer. Pushing up from the couch, she made her way to the three larges screens that were the focal point of her quarters. With Omarii on left screen she used the main to research records.
“Kei te pai. You know… same ole’ just a different day. Things are… well you know how shit can be out here.” There was a tiredness in his tone that spoke volumes. Things had not been going well for The Crew as of late. They had been moving one major alliance to another, only for the alliance to start to crumble away as they entered.
“I see you guys left Mehti.”
“Ah… you caught that. Yea… another move it looks like. We’re almost as bad as you, now.”
“Of course I did and Turituri. You knew I would. I always keep an eye out on my fellas. Even if you are a bunch of knobheads and idiots, I still care about you.” She paused for a moment as the details for The Chew’s new alliance came up. Her lips pressed against themselves as she read the screen. Her heart sank in to the pit of her stomach. “Black Silence? Really Omarri?”
“You know how Ken and D are. It was the best choice for… us. Besides, it’s good space, good fights and it’s a place to call home. I’m just tired of moving at this point. Every few months its weeks spent jumping shit from A to B. It’s tiring…”
“But it’s Black Silence.”
“Yea… It’s not who we’d like to be fighting for, but you know how things are. Too many bad choices limits your options and well… it was the best offer we got. Plus we have some bros from Mehti coming with us….”
“The Mongrels are planning an invasion.” She interrupted him once more.
“Yea we know. They’re going to hit the North this Winter. Is all over GalNet and the other Infohubs.”
“No… Not of the North… of Branch. They want to exterminate Black Silence. Some…. butt-hurt over how they plan to… plan to… sometime something. Who cares. Look the details aren’t important, but… You guys gotta…” The words stopped in her throat as she looked to the screen with Omarii. They were useless to say. She didn’t have to say them. He could hear the desperation that leaked in her voice. He knew a warning when he heard one. Instead, the silence would speak for her.
“Awww… come on Baby Girl. It’s going to be fun. You might even get a Detrick corpse out of it.” He knew what she wouldn’t say. He had known long before he contacted her. “It’ll be just like old times only… we won’t stop at armor. You know how war is. Sometimes you just land on opposite sides.”
+++++
“Aww, come on Ken. A little roam or something sounds good mate? Maybe go the pipe and camp for a bit. Intel is reporting a couple red fleets in the area.” Lade pushed a bit more hoping to sway their second in command.
“Well.. It’s up to D.” And with that, Kendrick pushed the choice off to his brother.
A rather pregnant pause came over comms before Detrick responded. “Ugh… Yea. Sure, I guess. We can do a nano gang if there’s enough.”
While Kendrick and Detrick were brothers, they didn’t sound or look anything a like. They were of the Caldari line and shared the generic features of their race as well as the stereotypical military and fiscally minded mentality the race was characterized for. While Kendrick’s voice was smooth, assured and almost velvety; Detrick’s was a little on the nasally side with a higher pitch, but somehow was more authoritative. Detrick was also very non-committal when he spoke; a trait that secretly drove Ary insane.
“Alright slackers. We’re going to start a new fleet so drop and re-up. Get re-shipped and join the new fleet. Corp only depending on the numbers we get, so start hitting people up.” While Detrick’s orders were casual, they were enough to get the lot of blood lusty killers in to a partial frenzy.
The station became a tight cluster of activity. The Hellcats on the edge of the station were traded in for vagabonds, hurricanes and other ships known for high speed and DPS. The fleet roster would quickly fill with pilot names and ship types as calls for fleet made their way over various comms to those that were idol or out bearing. Within 10 minutes there were about 20 of them and that was all it took.
The fleet meet on the undock. Detrick gave his usual pre-op rundown of tactics and suggestions on how not to get your hull blown off. To most of the pilots, these things were already engrained as their MO. They still gave Detrick the respect he deserved as leader and they listened with silent comms. Number checks were made as they assessed their support as 2 Scimitars, 2 interdictors which were an eris and flycatcher and 2 small tackle comprised of a Dramiel and a Stiletto.
“Desti’s in fleet. Warp to the outgate, so we can move out. We’re not making an all nighter out of this.” Detrick’s voice called out over comms and each of the ships would spin on it’s individual axis towards the gate.
“Well.. It’s up to D.” And with that, Kendrick pushed the choice off to his brother.
A rather pregnant pause came over comms before Detrick responded. “Ugh… Yea. Sure, I guess. We can do a nano gang if there’s enough.”
While Kendrick and Detrick were brothers, they didn’t sound or look anything a like. They were of the Caldari line and shared the generic features of their race as well as the stereotypical military and fiscally minded mentality the race was characterized for. While Kendrick’s voice was smooth, assured and almost velvety; Detrick’s was a little on the nasally side with a higher pitch, but somehow was more authoritative. Detrick was also very non-committal when he spoke; a trait that secretly drove Ary insane.
“Alright slackers. We’re going to start a new fleet so drop and re-up. Get re-shipped and join the new fleet. Corp only depending on the numbers we get, so start hitting people up.” While Detrick’s orders were casual, they were enough to get the lot of blood lusty killers in to a partial frenzy.
The station became a tight cluster of activity. The Hellcats on the edge of the station were traded in for vagabonds, hurricanes and other ships known for high speed and DPS. The fleet roster would quickly fill with pilot names and ship types as calls for fleet made their way over various comms to those that were idol or out bearing. Within 10 minutes there were about 20 of them and that was all it took.
The fleet meet on the undock. Detrick gave his usual pre-op rundown of tactics and suggestions on how not to get your hull blown off. To most of the pilots, these things were already engrained as their MO. They still gave Detrick the respect he deserved as leader and they listened with silent comms. Number checks were made as they assessed their support as 2 Scimitars, 2 interdictors which were an eris and flycatcher and 2 small tackle comprised of a Dramiel and a Stiletto.
“Desti’s in fleet. Warp to the outgate, so we can move out. We’re not making an all nighter out of this.” Detrick’s voice called out over comms and each of the ships would spin on it’s individual axis towards the gate.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Happy Monday: The Chill Room
The acrid scent of tobacco and other smokables mixed with fragrance of stale perfume and spilled alcohol was the first thing one would notice when entering the decently sized chill room. Thick wisps of smoke hovered in the air creating a fitting atmosphere of intrigue and danger. Muted background conversations buzzed softly, the words could barely be made out over the sound of music being piped in. It was Matari music, music weighted with drums and passion.
Most would view the little establishment in the back-galaxy solar system of UHKL-N as a den of debauchery, greed and murder. Only the most depraved and degenerate type of capsuleer sought refuge here and those that maintained offices there were happy to keep it that way. For Ary, this was home. The place she laid her boots and docked her ships now they had all moved back out to null sec space.
They seemed more like family rather then random individuals brought together by a single minded purpose. That purpose was to wreak as much havoc across the universe as possible. Even though practices such as espionage, thievery and out right brutality were among their best practices, there was a deep bond that connected them and that was what made them so dangerous.
Only a few hung out in the chill room tonight. Small groups and pairings scattered lazily over the small space with a décor that could be defined as a mix of pleasure hub and strategic planning room with elements of a trophy case. Pieces of furniture had had been procured from various sources ensuring the forever bachelor pad feel the place had. Really it wasn’t so bad when you took a look at the ‘Vitok Hotel’ style of quarters most stations offered to Capsuleers.
Off at a table towards the back the Big Daddy’s were busy with the night’s plans. Kennedy, Detrick, Ramon and Lucas were the driving force behind the small corporation. They ensured the group had everything they needed as well as keep everyone in line. Decent space for flipping some quick ISK, targets to shoot at and ops to keep their band of merry thugs focused enough to keep from killing each other and their alliance mates. They even provided limited ship replacements and allowed the more tenured members access to corporation owned modules and other necessities. All in all, their efforts made life out in the ass end of space suck a little less.
There were a few other groups huddled at a couple of tables. KC and Kos were busy arguing over a Brutix fit while Equsi was busy mocking them for actually wasting time on Brutix fits. There was also a poker game started up with four of the pilots staring at their cards and each other intently. A good share of ISK has been won and lost with the game showing no signs of slowing down.
Ark was sprawled out on a large set of beaten and battered floor pillows along with Miller and a couple of Gallante dancers that he picked up the near by low sec hub. In the center of the pillows was a rather tall and elaborately designed hookah with several hoses. One rested by Ark and still had a faint trail of smoke trailing from the metal tip.
“You couldn’t wait 10 minutes? Addict.” The pointed jab of comment was laced with truth as well as jest. The low purr of Ary’s voice softened the blow, but not by much. Drugs were common among the group. All of them used on some level and the spectrum ranged from high grade boosters to some harder substances here and there.
“Maybe if you trained some propulsion skills you wouldn’t be so fucking slow and I wouldn’t have to wait so long.” Ark was no gentleman and came right back at her at full force.
Ary’s only response would be to pick up the hookah hose and throw it at his face. This too was blocked with a simple gesture of his hand. The stoned dancing girl curled up to his side tittered until she noticed Ary’s unamused stare. The girl’s attention would shift as she cleared her throat. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the metal tip placing it to Ark’s lips. He would oblige her and simply cast a smirk to Ary.
“Asshole.” The word was muttered under Ary’s breath as she went to take a seat beside Lou. The faintly malicious expression on her face turned softer as she rang her fingers through Lou’s rust colored hair. He was starting to thin out at the top, but she thought it gave his look more character. “And how’s the favorite Ginger?”
“I’m good.” The capsuleer would turn and gave her that shy smile of his. His eyes would flicker down to the Hookah hose he was holding. A drag of the ‘naturally enhanced’ plant was taken before he pointed the smoking tip towards her.
“You’re a terrible influence on me Lou. You know that right?” Her body couched down as she moved between the dancing Miller was pawing at and Lou. His offer was accepted graciously and she allowed her body to slide comfortably in to the pillows below her. After a few long drags, her head rolled towards to Lou and her eyes lifted upwards him. “You’re coming with us tonight right?”
“No… Not tonight.” He hemmed slightly as he started to brace himself for the oncoming backlash. Right on cue Ary shot up from her reclined position. Those dark eyes were now narrowed and staring intently in to his.
“What do you mean your not coming?” Her tone had grown louder and much more demanding.
The other conversations that had been carrying in the room grew a bit softer at the Matari’s outburst. Equsi leaned over to Kos and gave him a nudge in the ribs. Darq, who was over at the poker table, a nod of his head towards the two. The dancer beside Mullet was startled. He leaned over to a nibble and whisper to her ear, but it would do little to ease her discomfort. Mullet simple shrugged and continued to enjoy himself.
“Aww, come on Ary. You know how it is. I have things…” Lou’s voice maintained it’s fairly hushed tone. His eyes flickered around the room seeking some type of assist. Ark noticed, but would be of no help as usual. A pillow simply brought up to protect himself and the dancing girl he was now entangled with.
“Ary, give Lou a break.” The calm, clear voice of Kendrick rose up. He hadn’t even bothered to lift his head from the holographic strategic maps he was reviewing. Kendrick had the type of voice that didn’t have to be loud to be heard. The tone of his smooth tenor carried more fire power than most others had in their turrets.
A chuckle came from Detrick as their leader spoke up. “Besides, haven’t you been moon lighting in Jita?”
“Hey, I gotta get paid some how. Unless you’re ready to be my new Sugar Daddy?” Her head and her aggression would turn to Detrick. His response would be a simple indignant snort. “Didn’t think so.”
“Alright you slackers.” Kendrick’s head finally lifted from the strat maps. The image that was hanging in mid air flickered away. “Let’s go. Its hellcats and guardians tonight, armor bs if haven’t been training properly. ” He glanced to a few specific pilots.
It only took those words for the entire room to mobilize. Eqsui and Lou would be staying behind but everyone else rose and migrated towards their quarters and thusly their ship hangers.
Their chill room was left in a state of suspended existence. The hookah was put out and left out with his hoses slithering through the pillows. The mobile ship analyzer was left out with a half done Brutix fit on its glowing screen. Even the card game was stopped mid round with cards left at the player’s seats. The ISK pot, however, was put away for safe keeping. Even the dancers were left behind to their own devices content to lounge and enjoy some of the finer things that the Capsuleers have access too.
“You lucked out this time.” Ary whispered the words as she rose from the place on the pillows.
“Blow up something good for me?” Lou reached up to tug at the end of Ary’s jacket as she turned to walk away. She would turn long enough to cast a wink before disappearing down the corridor to get podded up.
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