[u][i]A Deal[/i][/u] [u][b]Bram Sector, Hub-1.6.B, The Seat[/b][/u] "I know you all must have question on why you were brought here. I intend to answer that now: the Concordat wishes to use you." Armov was not one to beat around the bush, finding that honestly was always the best policy. "As most of you have no doubt experience, the J'Jaro have grown emboldened, engaging in raids against the vessels and colonies established on the border of our and their space." "Your own experience within K'Lan was one of a dozen that occurred this month. Hundreds have been taken to be sent to different laboring and production facilities, across their space." He tapped on a tablet in front of him, bringing up a map displaying instances in space were the J'Jaro had attacked. "The attack on K'Lan was conducted in hopes of crippling the shipyards of that sector, as it was a major income of resources. It was never expected any of the slaves their would be able to escape. But you all did." "And in doing so, gained the attention of the Concordat. We've recovered the logs of the Drop-Ship you... commandeered, and to say the least, you are a diverse group." He said, running known files of them across the screen for them to see. "Mercenaries, deserters, smugglers, inter-dimensional travelers, thieves..... very diverse. However, being that many of these things are illegal under law of the Ministry of Doctrine, we'd have no choice but to remand you to the Curators..." He gestured to Seven, who stood silent and motionless. "That however, is not the case. We would instead, use you as a diversion." He went to the tablet again, replacing the map with that of one showing a local area of space owned by the J'Jaro, dots peppering it. "Each dot represents a vessel of the J'Jaro, red representing supply, blue representing a slaver." "You all, will be given a retrofitted Calypso Frigate, placed within this area, and given free discretion as to your next course of actions." He waited to see the reactions of those present, before continuing. "We are, in layman's terms, sponsoring you to incite unrest and terror within the sector, given that your targets are affiliated with the J'Jaro or enemies of the Concordat, and that, on occasion, you will travel to a place of our choice and complete an objective." "This is a choice however. Those of you who arrived by choice, will be free to leave. Those of you compelled to attend, or were brought with restraint, well, you will be tried and should it pan out a certain way, incarcerated." He finished, as he clasped his hands together in what of reactions [spoiler]Open to those who previously responded.[/spoiler]

[b][u]A Few Hours Ago[/u][/b] [b]The Hub[/b] Kenneth and Ryna walked down the market and restaurants of the exotic alien cultures that flooded the street. "So Hydell taught you that the mind is your weapon...your body is the extension." "I'm guessing he also told you how irresponsible I was," he said chuckling. They passed an open bar outside as a group socialized, laughing to each other while drunk as Kenneth raised a brow. "I'm a hands on kind of guy, you learn through impulse and under pressure my friend," Kenneth said as he smoothly passed an empty table with a half eaten bowl of soup. He swiped it towards the laughing group as the bowl spilled all over the alien, while giving a surprised look at Ryna. "Dude...not cool man," he said to Ryna as the drunk alien furiously looked to Ryna, standing from the barstool. [spoiler]Evo[/spoiler]

[u][i]A Proposition[/i][/u] [u][b]Bram Sector, Hub-1.6.B, The Seat[/b][/u] The Affairs Building, located within the Seat District, was both a site to behold, and one to fear. Positioned in the approximate center of the Hub, it was where the day to day management was conducted to keep the outpost afloat, so to speak. It was here that the economy was monitored, trials were handled, and invoices were heard. But it also served another purpose; it was also where the Concordat Hierarchy coordinated it's Security personnel for this section of the border. Where soldiers went, how many, for how long, all this went through the Hub, before it was relayed to the local fleet or battalion. The overseer of the Hub, Roland Armov, was a seasoned veteran within the Imperial Guard, with over half a century of experience in combat, against the J'Jaro, and many other enemies of the Empire. At the moment, he sat within a meeting hall within the Affairs Building, reviewing reports on activity near the borderline, as well as the reported strike on the prison camp on K'Lan. "Hmph. Where are they now?" He asked, speaking towards the figure behind him." "They are being brought here, for the proposition." Seven replied, the Curator motionless, save for his head turning down towards Armov. "I don't suppose all of them agreed?" He asked. "No. But they'll be present in any case." He said, his voice monotone and hollow. "Hmph." Armov continued reviewing the file, coming to the audio logs from the C-S.08 Drop-Ship that was used by the survivors. They were to say the least... interesting. "What about the others? The ones we've marked as potential that are also present on the Hub?" More than those that escaped would be needed. But, fortunately, the Hub had no shortage of mercenaries and others of similar occupation. Seven simply nodded, in confirmation. "Hmph." Armov closed the holo-display, and sat back, waiting for their arrival. [spoiler]This is just a check in post for those who want to be in this part of the intro arc. If you do not sign on you will not be able to join until the end of it, which may be the end of the week. All that is needed is to state your character has arrived to the meeting room, either through their own decision, or escorted by guards, or forcefully taken in.[/spoiler]

[i][u]A New Arrival.[/u][/i] [b]Location: Hub 1.6.B Docking bay.[/b] [i]The hub was always a busy place, ships coming and going with people and cargo of all shapes and sizes. The appearance of a mechanical droid like individual wouldn't stick out too much. Or at least that's what Judith thought, a number of different individuals approached her at different intervals assuming that she was a lost droid or something along those lines. Due to the state of her armor and how it looked to be severely damaged it was clear why they thought that. These events left her having to go through the hassle of clarifying that she wasn't a droid and was very much so a living creature. Upon making her way to the market she began to browse through a few machine and cybernetics shops, looking for someone to help her repair her armor[/i] [spoiler]open Character intro, sorry if it's shit I haven't done this in a long time. [/spoiler]

[b]The new comer[/b] [i]The central hub, space ships flew in and out nonstop gathering people for god knows where they wish to go for whatever reasons. The lights in the city illuminated the dark corners of the city and the people filled the streets with noise. People come and go but the hub was always busy, never a dull or quiet moment here. In a back alley, a tear in space and time ripped open and a figure stepped out and looked back into the rip and waved. The figure waved at what seemed to be two sharp piercing metallic eyes, gave him an uneasy feeling. The young man stepped away and sighed "Thanks Evelyn" he noted before walking out into the streets. His attire wasn't too strange from everyone else, but that's only to the ones aren't so observant. The man was wearing what seemed to be vest that shifted and moved very slowly against him, a sleeve tattoo of tribal marking covered his left arm, sharp brown eyes, short messy dark brown hair, small cuts, scars and burn scars littered his arms and shoulders, he had built figure, broad shoulders, big arms and legs, large chest, athletic and strong. Stood at about 5'10 and black bracket wrapped itself around his wrist. He eventually found himself walking amongst a crowd of people checking a device constantly, "Where the hell are you?" He mumbled as he looked around the market and restaurants he wandered into. [/i] [spoiler]intro, open[/spoiler]

[b][u]Space 7/11[/u][/b] [b]Concordat Outer Rim Hub[/b] Kenneth walked happily with his slurpee, listening to the various sounds of music from the restaurants that were lined down the row. If there was one thing he was glad this universe had, it was the fact these things still existed- even in inter-dimensional futures, having bought it with the stolen the credits from some of the lockers onboard the drop-ship. He'd gather only what he needed, but still left more than enough for the crew onboard the ship. Changed out of the Concordat flight suit, Kenneth wore a sublime green hoodie and grey slim cargo pants, with a pair of dark tabi-sneaker high tops. His sword was sheathed onto his dark grey slim backpack, with his gas mask strapped onto the pack, with the smoke-blue lenses wiped and cleaned. He found a nearby bench as he sat down while he sipped his bowl of alien ramen- the broth was a lilac colored, but there were indeed noodles and exotic roots and vegetables with a tentacle or two, as steam rose from the hot bowl as he began to eat. Beside him, a tablet was leaned against the arm rest as he watched Pirates of the Caribbean. "We're gonna commandeer, that ship," Jack Sparrow said. Kenneth raised a brow as he leaned back setting his bowl down as he scoffed while he continued to eat the ramen but with his attention no longer on the movie. He unhinged the scabbard from the backpack as he undid the wrapping and rewrapped it with a traditional tsukamaki while the movie continued to play. [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

"Of Strangers and Bounty Hunters." [b]Hub 1.6.B =========================[/b] A ship landed in the docking bay, simple, a small fighter, a beautiful blue with orange details. On its sides was painted "Milano". The nimble fighter was big enough to have two decks and still some room, but still be considered a gunship. It remained silent for a bit, as engineers and workers started hooking it up and preparing it for an unknown amount of time. Eventually a round door opened on the side, and a figure walked out, the door sealing shut behind the person. The figure was decked in a simple red leather jacket, pants, and an ear piece. Walking with a feminine gait, the woman was ginger haired and fair looking. On her right hip lay a small canister, on the back was a three point harness with two things; one being a compact form of some kind of sword or weapon, and an odd looking device. The woman walked forward, an aura of power around her, as an engineer walked by and it became apparent how tall she was. An odd sight, not many people topped around at what seemed to be 7ft. Moving with a mixed walk of grace and would could be taken as caution or a "fleeting" look, she seemed ready to strike, on edge. She headed towards a dockhand, asking for directions to something. [spoiler]Open Idk Intri[/spoiler]

[b][u][i]Welcome to the Jungle[/i] Concordat Space,Bram Sector, Hub-1.6.B[/u][/b] "zzzZzzzzzzzzzz" Luck's snoring echoed through the cockpit, and throughout the ship, as in his sleep he'd activated the intercom. "ZzzzzzZzzzzzz....wha-" This annoyance was interrupted when he suddenly woke up, a rapid beep startling him. Rubbing his eyes, he saw that it was an indicator that they were exiting the Blink, arriving at their destination; Hub-1.6.B, a trade and supply station used often by the Ministries of Doctrine and Security patrols as a in-between routes, but also open to public mercantile vessels through the Ministry of Commerce. On average, between 13,000 to 24,000 were on the hub at any one time, with about 7,000 living on it permanently. The Drop-Ship automatically registered a spot on the docks, navigating it's way through the traffic of other ships arriving and departing, finally landing. Maintenance drones swarmed it, securing it and examining it, ensuring nothing harmful, i.e. radiation, viruses, symbiotes, came with it. The hatch hissed open, allowing those aboard to exit. The Hub was essentially a small city, trams running from the docks into its four districts; The Market, where most supplies could be had, from exotic gun to exotic animals, The Residential, where those who either wanted to rest a bit or find a more permanent home resided, The Lights, where many forms of entertainment could be found, and finally, the Social, a collection of parks and restaurant fronts. At the center of it all, was the Seat; where the Concordat maintained its watch over the place, ensuring it did not fall to chaos. Due to their presence, one would be hard pressed to find illegal items, as the black market is practically non-existent. [spoiler]Open. Go where you want. Just know your in Concordat territory now, and there are laws.[/spoiler]

[b][u]Back from the Voyage[/u][/b] [i][u]Location: The Lights Park, Bram System, Hub 1.6.B Time: 0735 hours local time[/u][/i] Peace. Out of everything he missed during his time in captivity, he missed peace the most. His job made it nearly impossible, especially with the Chaos war in its 6th year. As people walked by, they could see the purple skinned Sorris Icatokk(known as [url=http://orig02.deviantart.net/f3ca/f/2013/169/3/6/bubba_jett_by_hokunin-d69jnn5.jpg]Venator[/url] to most who knew him) watch them all pass by, with unexpected calm look in his eyes. He watched as parents and their children ran around together, neither having to see the other go off to a bloody war and never come back. He watched as couples made small talk, not having to worry about their world being glassed. He watched as people, completely ordinary people, went about their day without knowing about the multigalctic war just outside their Galaxy. He watched them, and he felt happy for them. However, this happiness only blinded him from noticing he was being watched. Not by a civilian or a fellow escapee, but a an in [url=https://www.starwarsnewsnet.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/6.jpg]white armor[/url] with a red marking on his shoulder, just outside of Sorris' view. And he had no idea that this man was coming towards him, a knife concealed in his hand... [spoiler]Open. Go to whichever one of the two you wish(preferably Venator, but I'm flexible). I'm going to try and make an interesting mini arc soon, and this will be its first chapter. [/spoiler]

[b][i]Gotta Get Paid[/i][/b] [b]Concordat Space,Bram Sector, Hub-1.6.B[/b] [i]The [url=http://www.igorstshirts.com/blog/conceptships/2014/alex_ichim/alex_ichim_01.jpg]gunship[/url] docked at the station stood out amongst the other ships that were there. It was as if an infantry fighting vehicle had pulled into a Shell station with a bunch of regular vehicles. Its make and match did not seem like anything before seen in the Concordat system, which was likely unusual in this sector. As the ship was being refueled, two individuals stood outside of it, [url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/994/016/large/qc-pan-.jpg?1468250733]one[/url] [/i] leaning against the craft's hull, sharpening his knife, the [url=https://cdnb3.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/828/683/large/will-jinho-bik-strelok-0003.jpg?1466182069]other[/url] tapping her foot impatiently as she watched the ship being refueled.[/i] "Where the hell are we, anyways?" [i]The woman asked, sounding annoyed with her partner.[/i] [i]He shrugged, continuing to clean his knife.[/i] "You're useless, you know that?" [i]She growled, beginning to pace back and forth.[/i] [i]His mask hid his silent smile as he sheathed his knife. After a moment, he signed to her.[/i] [b]You are the tracker, no?[/b] [i]Sighing, she flipped him the bird.[/i] "Look I'm not a pilot. I hunt people, not guide space expeditions." [b]You had a map and were using radio signals. It isn't like you were flying blind.[/b] [i]The man signed back.[/i] "You're an ass, you know that?" [b]But I'm your ass, and you wouldn't be alive were it not for me.[/b] "Stop bringing it up." [i]She snapped, again causing the man to smile beneath his mask.[/i] [spoiler]Just a short opener. If you're on the station, stop by.[/spoiler]

Test

Luck had waken up from his much needed nap, a few hours into their Blink. Yawning, he unstrapped himself from the seat and stood, stretching. Looking forward, he briefly stared at the mesmerizing view of the universe curving around them. But, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen a thousand time before, so he simply shrugged, before looking down. The clothing that he had been forced to wear for the last couple of months was tattered, dirtied, and worn out, the orange now looking more brownish in color. Exiting the cockpit, he passed through the prep area, glancing at those resting in it, before heading towards the back, where the equipment was stored. His gear, unlike most of the others, had been almost completely harvested, save for his Wrist-TAC. That.... had particularly pissed him off. It was something of sentimental to him. And, he hated getting stolen from. Hated it. Coming to a vertical locker, he input a code to unlock it, a basic Concordat numerical sequence. The handle twisting and opening, it revealed Concordat Combat Suits. Taking one, he stripped out of his clothing and donned the suit, though he left the helmet. These, unlike those used by the soldiers on K'Lan, were dull gray in color. Flexing in it, he got a feeling for the armor, making sure everything fit. Deciding it fit well, he went into an unlocked crate and pulled out a ration nutrient bar, and began eating it, as he took a seat. "Mmph. Emperor's will, this is good." He continued eating. [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[b]Amber left the cockpit shortly after the escape, and rather than sharing the same joyous look of most, she kept a straight face as she walked towards the back of the ship. She flashed smiles at those who greeted her, but soon returned to the same state afterwards. Eventually, she reached a rather calm room, though none were empty. She leaned against a wall, and propped a notepad against her legs.[/b] [spoiler]open, you can talk to her about what happened before or meet her if you haven't[/spoiler]

Pyth counted his bullets, flicking open the chamber of his revolver. He had been left with a full six rounds and he holstered the weapon, adjusting his hat, pondering his escape. The impending dread of the situation they found theirselves in had not seemed to yet impose on the freelance slaves. When would they escape? Would being saved from the jail bind them to work with the Concordat? The android's synthetic mind had already turned alight with plans of how to escape the transit, but decided to escape at a more... [i]advantageous[/i] position. He sat in a seat lining the Concordat Drop Ship, putting his hat over teal blue eyes buzzing with electricity, not due to fatigue but to shut out the rest of the passengers. [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[b][u]Do You Have Anymore Peanuts?[/u][/b] [i][u]K'Lan Labor Mine, K'Lan, Dock 13[/u][/i] Luck and Venator had been the final arrivals to enter the Concordat Heavy Drop-Ship, narrowly avoiding a barrage of incoming shots. "I see we were late to the get together." An explosion reverberated throughout the ship, rocking it enough to send those who were standing falling. "One... four..... ten..... whatever. There's enough of us here that I won't feel bad for leaving." He said as he got up, standing. The gunfire became more intense outside, the echoes of battle becoming louder. Luck ran towards the front of the ship, towards the cockpit, and starting it up. He pulled up a nav-chart, pressing on a point that was glowing blue. "They're to busy one tiny Heavy Drop-Ship leaving orbit and blinking." "But just in case they aren't, y'know, it was nice slaving with you all." He joked over the intercom, before everyone felt a jolt as the ship began to rise, then lurched forward. In the cockpit, an incoming transmission appeared, opening by itself. "This is Commander Lylus. Who authorized your retreat from the engagement?" "We had need of additional ammunition, and thought it prudent to return with an empty Heavy Drop to fill to capacity." He responded in an respectful and confident tone, somewhat different what how he had been speaking. "....Understood. Proceed." As the ship broke orbit, Luck began inputting commands into the dash. Suddenly, the ship changed course from the Carrier in orbit, heading in the opposite direction. "What are you doing? What is your service number? I'll have you tried for this!" The Commander began going on a tirade, before Luck forcefully ended the transmission. "Prepare for Blink-Jump. 3...2...1..." Outside the ship, space seemed to fold around them, forming a sort of bubble. Around the bubble, stars were stretched and torn, galaxies crumpling and forming. It was truly a awe-inspiring sight, it they could see it. "This is your captain speaking..." Luck said over the intercom. "Our destination is a lovely supply outpost located in the H'iam Belt. You will note this is located within Concordat Space, so running into anymore J'Jaro is unlikely." "Our trip will last about ten hours, so please, rest, relax, recharge. Snacks should be in the back, along with equipment such as spare suits, ammunition, and weaponry." "Thank you for flying Transit Escape With Our Lives." He finished, cutting the intercom and leaning back in his seat, deciding to nap. [spoiler]Soweve escaped and are now traveling to s supply station. In the meantime, interact with eachother, get to know one another. Try not to cause any trouble. [/spoiler]

[b][i]Back in the saddle...[/i][/b] [b][i]James had found a more... secluded area of the ship to change into his old threads, something he hadn't had time to do on the way here. He grinned as he sat on a crate in the storage room, his leather duster now on. He spun his two pistols on his fingers as he checked to see if they were still in working order (which they were, but needed cleaning). He holstered them, doing the same with his lever action rifle, before resting it on some crates nearby. He decided to rest himself like his rifle, as he moved a few crates, laying down on them, so he was half sitting up. He pulled his large brimmed hat over his eyes, as he dozed off.[/i][/b] [spoiler]open[/spoiler]

[b]Off With a Bang:[/b] [i]K'lan Slave Camp, J'jaro Territory[/i] A boom reverberated around the entire camp, shaking the uncomfortable hammocks that the slaves slept in. The massive chamber was pitch black, with people tightly packed together in their quarters, and a guarded entrance at one end of the room. So inevitably, when there was any vestige of confusion, chaos erupted. A larger boom came this time, and now dust and debris woke the slaves from their slumber. People began jostling with each other to figure out what the matter was, kicking and elbowing each other to see if they could hear anything. When the third boom came, the emergency lights suddenly blared into existence, alongside a wailing alarm. In the background, the familiar raspy noise of J'jaro Snap Rifles could be heard... But so could the staccato of other gunfire. Concordat gunfire. The J'jaro guard at the end of the room leveled his Snap Rifle at the chaotic mob with one pair of arms, while holding what appeared to be a detonator with the other. It was the control to your inhibitor collar. With a flick of a switch, every single being in that room would die. Nobody dared move... Until the inhibitors suddenly fell off of your necks, dead. You were free. One guard now stood between you, and freedom. [spoiler]Open. The Concordat has invaded the base, and it's time to take advantage of the situation. [/spoiler]

[b][u]A Rocky Beginning...[/u][/b] [i][u]J'Jaro Territory, K'Lan Labor Camp, K'Lan[/u][/i] The feel of raindrops served as a welcome relief to those who had been laboring for hours with little rest. The sound of rock being hacked, chiseled, and cut echoed in the air, only cut out the by the yells of pain by those who were disciplined for moving to slowly, their loads being too light, their bodies too weak. This kind of treatment had been the life of the prisoners of this labor camp for about two months now, their group arriving after being captured at various points by their current overseers and guards, the J'Jaro. Each had been fitted with an inhibitor collar, which served as a tool of control; misbehave, talk out of turn, work to slow, if they just felt like it, the prisoners would receive a painful shock directly to their neural pathways. They mined precious minerals continually for fourteen hours, each day, receiving the bare minimum of what could be considered food, a break of forty five minutes, the continued working, all the while receiving the abuse that the overseers may have felt like dealing out at that moment. This kind of heavy labor and schedule used up prisoners quickly, explaining the bi-monthly shipment of new ones. At the moment, each was doing their daily assignment, whether it be excavating the minerals with an ion-axe, carting them towards the foundry, or melting it down for shipment as ingots. Each did what they had been doing for a month, trying to not antagonize the J'Jaro. [spoiler]This is where EVERYONE starts. You are one of the prisoners, having at some point been taken captive, and you have been in the camp for approximately one month. Their are no chances of escape, and even thinking of it will incur the wrath of the overseers. For now, you bid your time working, and hoping to make it another day.[/spoiler]