- Posts:
- 391
- Group:
- Champion Hunter
- Member
- #23
- Joined:
- Aug 3, 2011
- Discord:
- Goddess Iris#8062
- Gender:
- 200% Femme
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Flavor (warning, long!) The slouched form of Quinn Daniels knocked back another swig of whiskey. A long day of paperwork had taken its toll on him. When he first decided that he would establish his own space port, the pirate haven he had always dreamed for, he only had a small clue of the amount of administration required of him. The drama of dogfights and loot day-in-day-out proved to be just a fantasy. He hit the bottle on a regular basis these days.
Friday was coming up soon. He grinned at the thought. It always seemed closer from the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. He set the now-empty bottle on the table with a loud clink. He noticed the rogren then.
Logern was Quinn’s bodyguard; tall and broad-shouldered, he looked way more like a dragon than anyone had any right to. His wings were easily twice his armspan, if not longer, but the ragged slashes through the dark brown membranes proved that flight was a thing of the past for him. Quinn always joked with his friends that Logern only had two expressions: mad and madder. Now, though, the characteristic muted rage on the rogren’s face gave way to urgency and anxiety. “We’ve got a problem.”
--
“Give me the report,” Kir`Nivek Hasori said, standing in front of the long window of his assault frigate’s observation deck. The garling wore a navy-blue uniform with green and silver trim, sharp angles accentuating the form of his build, more lean than muscular. His thick, bone-white spines protruded from his back in three columns, all the way up to the back of his head.
“An anonymous tip brought to Nishkan police forces yesterday finally revealed the location of the elusive 2707th Crimson Blades to us.”
Nivek glanced over his shoulder at his lieutenant, brown scales contrasting with his far more vivid blue eyes. “Is that so?”
“According to the tip, the regiment is using a pirate space station called Jagged as their base of operations. We’ve been provided with the current coordinates of the station, and high command wants us to move in immediately with a team of special operatives so that we can cripple the station.”
The captain furrowed his brow, turning to face the lieutenant. “That’s not in our directive. We’re a military vessel, not the police. Destroying hostile enemy forces is one thing, but these criminals should be apprehended, not massacred.”
“High command insisted that a full strike force be sent to deal with the issue, due to the risk of militancy. The presence of one of Sorkana’s prized regiments at the station indicates that there may be soldiers on board, and I’ve been told that the risk of allowing Sorkana an outpost so close to GNK space is too great to overlook.” The lieutenant stood tall and at attention, keeping eye contact with Nivek, before adding, “I’m sorry, sir.”
“If that’s what our orders are, then…we’ll do it. Prepare a team of marines.”
--
Arvanik had been sent to Jagged as Sorkana’s primary agent to oversee the operation. The kheilan had always been elusive; tall and lithe, he stood out even amongst the other aliens on the station. Generations of genetic meddling had left his blue-grey skin dotted with scar-like imperfections. His snake-like visage and demeanor always left Quinn on edge, but his rage overrode his fears.
“Arvanik, explain to me what just happened!”
“I never attested to taking charge of your station’s security, Daniels. You should ask Logern, not myself.” The way Arvanik’s mouth moved when he spoke unsettled Quinn. He could never quite get used to the second set of jaws.
“I found out because he came to me saying that we’ve got GNK breathing down our neck in the hangar bay. With guns.” Quinn threw down his fists with exasperation. Logern stood behind him, ever the loyal bodyguard. The impromptu meeting room was more commonly known as the “staff lounge,” a large room with plenty of couches, some display screens, and plenty of windows out to the exterior of the station. For now, however, it served as the site for Quinn’s emergency station security meeting. Everyone’s eyes were on him, and for once he felt like the leader he always dreamed of being.
“I can assure you that I had nothing to do with this. Our forces have covered their tracks wonderfully, and as you should rightly know, it’s impossible to trace a hyperspace jump.” Arvanik glanced to a kheilan to his right, the commander of the war group, who nodded once in agreement. “If we thought that GNK might follow us, we would have jumped to an intermediate coordinate first, to ensure that we threw them off our tail.”
“We’ve got GNK here now, though, and that’s the point.” Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath to clear his head. “You made an agreement when we allowed you to use our station. We would let you use Jagged as a forward outpost, and in return, you would provide us with a steady payflow and ensure that you didn’t bring GNK down on our heads. I’ve been very lenient with you so far, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something doesn’t add up right now.”
“You’re interrogating the wrong person about this. Perhaps one of your trusted traders was to blame, hmm?” Arvanik’s smug tone dug into Quinn’s pride.
“It’s no use questioning him when he has nothing to say,” Logern said. As much as Quinn hated to admit it, the rogren was right. Still, he didn’t give up the chance to shoot Arvanik a retaliatory glare.
“Logern’s right, but you’re not off the hook yet, Arvanik.” Quinn paced to one of the screens. “If GNK is here, it means they’ve come for you and yours. If they’ve come for you, then it means they’re going to tear the place apart. They’ll kill anyone they come across.” He shot a pointed glance to the kheilani again. “Kill. That’s a big word for a guy like me. We don’t kill people, most of the time, and we certainly don’t expect to be killed. You don’t get out of death after you’ve served ten years of time. Once you’re dead, you’re fucking dead.” Arvanik had nothing to say to this. Good. “Lots of people I’m supposed to try to keep safe are going to die today, and whether you like it or not, it’s ultimately because you and Sorkana decided to set up shop here.”
“Blame me if you must, but it doesn’t solve your problem.”
“No, it doesn’t, but you’re going to help me solve it.” He stepped back over to Arvanik. “I know how much you must be just itching to get off this station and tell Sorkana that you need a new forward base, but it’s not gonna be that simple. You’re going to help me get rid of the infestation on my station, and if I catch word that you’re making a break for the hangar bay, I’ll just let it slip to all my people that you’ve ratted us out to GNK.”
Arvanik scowled, but Quinn could tell that the message had gotten through. The fear in his eyes was a look he’d kill to see more often. “Very well. I will keep my operatives here, and I will assist you in eliminating this threat.”
“Don’t act so down, Arvanik. Just think of it this way: if our station survives, you don’t have to waste time looking for another one.” Quinn looked to Logern. “Get all our people ready to repel the assault, and for God’s sake, find the xorian and tell her to get her ass over here!”
--
Servil Faren, decorated garling special operative and war veteran, had ensured that his team was armed and ready before their freighter even entered hyperspace. Everything checked out; the sar kerith model hardly drew attention, and they’d gone through all the trouble of fabricating documents and manifests for it. For all anyone knew, this ship had been operating for years.
His team was small, but experienced. He commanded scarcely twenty people, all of whom had fought as marines before. The art of war on board a space ship or station was far different from the same fight planetside. The playing field was uneven, and often unknown. His team had no idea what they were walking into. However, they had training that none of their opponents would possess.
Despite what his briefing said, Servil doubted that he would find many kheilani soldiers on board Jagged. He knew how Sorkana operated; the soldiers and important staff stayed on their own ships, so that when the fight turned south, they wouldn’t have to consolidate their forces in order to make emergency hyperspace jumps and retreat. The enemy would consist of pirates, and it was a simple fact of life that his team would have access to resources pirates could only ever dream of acquiring.
A rumble throughout the ship signaled that the transport had come to a halt in the hangar bay of the station. Servil stood with his rifle at the ready, glancing down the long room. His troops sat on benches against either wall, suited up and ready to go. “We only have one chance to get this done, marines. Let’s make it count. Let’s make them pay. Let’s make Sorkana dread coming to our nations again.”
The sergeant stepped down toward the hatch out of the ship, and his three corporals followed just behind him: Laruel, a lithe, feathered and agile norcaran; Ortarl, a powerful, bear-like fronari; and Fisi, a small and technically savvy kimean. They stopped before the exit, and the ramp slowly hissed down as it opened.
They kicked in the door with a bang.
--
Even the bar was alive with activity as Logern lumbered in. The bartender stood behind the counter with a sub-machine gun. Pistols and ammo clips were passed out, trading hands once, twice, lock, stock, ready to roll. People hardly paid Logern any heed as he fumed his way across the establishment, but they stepped aside all the same. Nobody wanted to put themselves in the firing arc of a rogren’s ire, and especially nobody wanted that rogren to be Logern. Fists slamming down on a table off to the side, Logern glared across at its sole inhabitant. “Teleca!”
Teleca was small, four-legged, and carapaced, her exterior shell gleaming as though polished daily. Too short to sit properly on a chair, she leaned over the side of the table, foreclaws clenched around the handle of a mug of beer. She glanced up to Logern with her round, featureless head. Her eyes were her only good indicator of emotion other than her claws and her tail, and it made her difficult for Logern to read. “Yes?”
“The station captain’s looking for you! We’ve got a crisis, in case that went over your head!”
“Everyone always sounds so surprised about that,” Teleca drawled. “Like they weren’t expecting it to happen.”
“I don’t need you to be cynical, I need you to get in line for the GNK all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Teleca’s tail twitched. “We don’t eat people, Logern, we just kill them.” She was the one person...no, one thing on the station that could send chills down his spine. She could say it so casually, but make it sound so cold and clinical.
“You know what I mean,” he finally growled. “There’s a host of dogs, birds, lobsters and lizards that wants us dead, and you’re our ace in the hole.”
“Yes.” Teleca waved it off again. “Let me finish my drink.”
“We don’t have time for you to finish your fucking drink.” Logern grabbed at the mug, only for the xorian to pull it back toward her. She glanced up at him, and flexed her claws.
“Do you really want to start this?” She sounded almost bored, but it still pierced him to his core. He’d heard the stories. He knew what even just one xorian could do to a ship full of people. Her demeanor may have seemed bored, but she was ready to spring, tail uncoiled, claws on the table, rear legs bent. Logern forced himself back from Teleca.
“Just let me finish my drink.” Teleca took another gulp. It amazed Logern how she could nearly stick half her head inside the glass. He still didn’t know where her mouth actually was.
“Fine. Captain’ll be pissed.”
“I know.”
--
When Celi Theleyun decided to accompany a gunship of Free Traders throughout Known Space, she imagined that she’d have to patch up the occasional bullet hole, but she didn’t think that she’d be needed much more than that. Their convoy had only intended to stop at Jagged for the day, just to sell their cargo.
The casino had been converted into a makeshift hospital. Jagged’s paltry medical bay was on the other side of the station, an eternity away when a battle lay in between, and a journey that one would likely not survive. Celi was the only qualified doctor anywhere to be found, and so she tended to her numerous patients, victims of firefights with the GNK strike team. She was running out of gauze and bandages and medicine.
A small terran man with hastily groomed brown hair stepped into Celi’s makeshift medical bay. The sar kerith girl turned from her patient to look at him. He hardly seemed wounded. “May I help you?”
Celi hadn’t met many terrans, and the similarity to sar kerith physiology still surprised her. Almost everything was identical: proportions, build and muscular structure. Only his lack of wings and strikingly lighter skin and darker hair stood him apart from a sar kerith. He asked, “You’ve been tending to all these people?”
“Yes, I have,” Celi responded automatically. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m here with a convoy of Free Traders. I’m their medic. When I heard people were wounded, I came as fast as I could.”
The man nodded, sticking his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. He wore it over a normal t-shirt. Celi decided not to question why. “Well, it’s good to see someone’s working their ass off besides me.” More people started to stream into the room from the same way the first man came. “Don’t mind us, we’re just going to fortify the place. Name’s Quinn Daniels.” He stuck out his hand for Celi to shake, and she did.
“Captain of this station, then? I don’t suppose you brought any more medical supplies?”
“Nope, sorry. Didn’t know you were here, much less that you’d need it.” Broad shouldered men of various species piled chairs and playing tables in front of the doorway. “I sure appreciate what you’re doing, though, and we might need you a lot more in the next few hours.”
“Unless I get some more supplies, I’m not going to be much more use.” Celi nervously ran her fingers through her silver hair.
Quinn looked pointedly to a garling nearby. “Valen, buddy up and get to the med bay, pronto! We need more medical supplies, whatever you can carry!” The garling grabbed one of his friends, another sar kerith, and ran out the back door of the casino.
“Thank you!” Celi grinned, for what felt like the first time in years. “Some of these patients need the help ASAP.”
“Good thing they’re sprinting, then.” Quinn grinned back. “Oh, Friday feels so far away now...”
“What about Friday?”
“Me and my buddies are supposed to go out flying.” Quinn shrugged. He reached into his coat jacket and pulled out a pistol. “I guess I’ll see if I live that long, eh?”
Celi didn’t like thinking about it that way.
--
“We’ve secured the hangar, Sergeant Faren!”
“Stick together, find the quickest path to their leadership. Cut off their head so they can no longer act in coordination.” This mafia game takes place in Known Space, my bloated science fiction setting. This mafia game will be somewhat unique, as I will be writing it as a short story in tandem with the game. As such, there will be a slight change in how the game works.
First of all, the timing on the phases will be different. The day phase will be 24 hours long, as usual, but the night phase will be twice as long. This is because I will write flavor for both the night and the preceding day during the night phase.
Second of all, it is important to note that the flavor doesn't necessarily reflect the actual metagame actions and politics that took place. I will try to follow it where I can, but I will inevitably have to change things in order to best accomodate the plot, and in order to keep from giving clues to the Mafia or Village.
Those are the two major things to keep in mind while this game is in progress.
Roles
Inhabitants of Jagged (village) Quinn Daniels (Terran): He may reveal himself to stop one lynch.
Arvanik (Kheilan): He may investigate one person per night to determine their affiliation.
Logern (Rogren): He is immune to one night kill. At his option, he may guard one person per night, giving up his own immunity for the night. If anyone visits the guarded player, then there is a 50% chance that Logern will kill them, and a 50% chance that he will die.
Teleca (Xorian): She may kill one person per night.
Celi Theleyun (Sar Kerith): She may protect one person per night.
Inhabitants of Jagged (Varied): May vote in the day phase.
GNK Strike Team (mafia) Servil Faren (Garling): He may visit one person per night. He kills all other visitors.
Laruel (Norcaran): She may silence one player per night, rendering them incapable of posting in the next day phase.
Ortarl (Fronari): He may resist one kill or lynch.
Fisi (Kimean): She may visit one person per night to prevent their night actions. If there's anything glaringly imbalanced about the setup, please tell me!
Edited by Scout, Mar 13 2012, 06:18 PM.
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