[Open To Join RP] Wings

Discussion in 'Bacons Casual Roleplay' started by Arbitrated, Sep 6, 2017.

  1. Arbitrated

    Arbitrated Greasy Bacon

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    Between the stars Lotus-Epsilon and Iris Heart
    Deadspace


    This thread is sort of an experiment for the ILB Roleplay community-you may join this plot if you wish, or simply observe, or ignore it entirely if you would like.
    "Deadspace" is space that has effectively nothing in it-no major stations, planets, or other objects are relatively nearby. It often makes for an excellent place to hide, given the right preparations.

    A flash of light briefly outshone the nearby stars, procuring a small frigate-sized vessel. The energy readings from the spike were significantly higher than what is expected from the use of FTL travel, but had quickly subsided. For a time, the vessel would drift through space as if abandoned...

    Araxie Serai woke with a gasp, placing a cool hand to her throbbing forhead in the frigate's small bridge. It felt wet-blood. I must have hit my head on my console, she thought, but... This is-ow-still the bridge... Why am I not in the medical... Bay? The console in front of the slender woman lay dormant and dark, refusing to respond as she weakly dialed the small emergency code into it.

    Minutes later, the woman forced herself to stand-at least the injury wasn't as bad as she thought, only giving her a migraine so far. "Captain? George? ...Anyone?" Did they abandon ship, thinking I was dead? But the ship's still intact, just deactivated it seems... Or in a low power mode-it's not terribly cold... She looked up the small ladder reaching into the crew bunks. John always snored, so he wasn't asleep. Neither was anyone else, if he was always the first one in bed and the last one out. Coughing a little, Serai maneuvered to the nearest AI interface-a buggy display repeating an error message:

    ERROR 37789: CONNECTION LOST. MANUAL RECONNECTION REQUIRED.

    A quick tap on the service panel directly above the screen revealed the reset button-when pressed, the display flickered briefly before lighting up, the pleasant man which was the avatar for the ship's artificial intelligence seemed to gasp, holographic eyes "focusing" on Araxie.

    "Oh, it's great that someone on the ship knows how to move again! I... Don't know what happened, but our engines are damaged from that battle-and I don't know what happened. On account of Captain Edward's lack of appearance, and the disastrous state of the ship, I can activate the emergency broadcast signal on your command, Miss Serai."

    The elysian's voice cracked as she responded, practically shouting, "YES!"

    "One moment... The signal is being broadcasted. Now we must wait."


    From the idle starship, a large, long-range radar ping periodically emanated out into deep space. It played on all known emergency frequencies, the message stating the ship's approximate location in galactic coordinates, as well as a brief description of the situation at hand. The signal repeated itself every five minutes, until disengaged.
     
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  2. Archduke Seraph

    Archduke Seraph Tasty Club Cooked Bacon

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    if no one else is inserting themselves into this then you bet your ass I will

    On a moonbase long abandoned by its original owners, a screen flickers dimly. The light from this screen reveals a novakid, reclined in an old chair far past its days of comfort. The brand dips and rises along with the rest of the head, bobbing seemingly at random. She's struggling to stay awake, to focus on the notes strewn around this computer screen. It becomes much easier to pay attention once said screen starts blaring red, trying to make noise as if it was still able to.

    The starchild quickly brushes her work aside, a new fixation showing itself. Her dirty lab coat hangs loosely off the seat as she leans in. This crimson screen could mean a few things. One, the radio dish outside that Ceres had repaired herself was compromised in some way; two, Ceres' "lab partner" was in life-threatening trouble; or three, she was receiving a distress signal. The pseudo-scientist shook option two from her mind and tapped the screen, curious to uncover the issue.

    As arguably the problem hardest for Ceres to fix, the alarm faded to a message: Someone out there needed help. A ship adrift in space, built for a crew of many but only having one. While this type of problem is more complicated in the long run, it had an easy start: Simply send over a link to the teleporter. Of course, the only other inhabitant of this moonbase was very protective of their privacy...
    On the desk, buried under a pile of unorganized research papers, there was a PDA. This PDA, while it had much greater reception than the base's dish, was primarily used to communicate with said partner. As a glowing, peach-colored hand hovered over it, the PDA suddenly seemed unappealing. Like it shouldn't be used.
    Why would she care about this, anyway? I'm the one who refurbished this mess.
    With an air of confidence, or was it indignation? Ceres confirmed the link offer. How long it would take, whether the source of the beacon would accept, whether the link would even be accepted- it was all up in the air on invisible wings.
     
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  3. Arbitrated

    Arbitrated Greasy Bacon

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    "Response signal detected. Establishing link..." The screen fizzled for several moments before clearing away, showing a reasonable view of Ceres's brand and "head". The screen on her PDA slowly pieced together the image of an... Angel? Some lady with blue wings or something, standing unsteadily in a lit corridor of some design. The architecture wasn't immediately recognizable, but seemed designed for outer space purposes.

    The bloody-faced female coughed a couple of times and timidly called out to the console, and by extension the Novakid holding their PDA.

    "H-hello? I-ah, I don't know what happened... The ship I am on was disabled, but I don't know what caused it..." She took a moment to breathe deeply. "Do... You know where I am?" And I should... Ask, what they are... When I'm in a safer position... The Elysian stumbled forward a couple of steps to make her face more clearly visible, with the long cut above her left eye, but waited for a response.
     
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  4. Archduke Seraph

    Archduke Seraph Tasty Club Cooked Bacon

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    If reading a brand was easy, Ceres' sigma would be very obviously in an expression of shock. Of course, this is not the case. The novakid had to do a double take at the sight of wings; quite hard to believe at first sight, no? Rather than asking about anything, the peach suppressed her questions. That can come later. For now, it's better if things are solved rather than answered.

    Wouldn't want any intruders to know about our situation here... Rather, maybe I wouldn't want my "situation" to know about any "intruders..."

    Ceres Lun snapped back to reality, refocusing on the only source light in the room aside from herself. Her voice is metallic and bubbly; a strange combination, but more typical once one knows what the hell a novakid even is.
    "Hello! Please don't worry yourself- that complicates things. It seems you're in trouble- Or, rather, your ship is. Please don't panic! I-I can help you! We can figure out what happened later- Right now, we need to worry about survival- Part of... Hm, what was it-" She shuffles through her notes for an uncomfortably long amount of time. "Yes, Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs! Do you have food and water? Are there any threats on- Hm! I have an idea. You can beam to this moonbase using a teleporter- I assume you have one?- and I can help you from there!"

    This... eccentric starchild often trips over her words, even cutting off sentences without finishing the thought. It's like she's trying to say every idea she has as fast as humanly (or rather, nova-ly) possible, if not faster. Ceres watches the screen eagerly for an answer.
     
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  5. Arbitrated

    Arbitrated Greasy Bacon

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    Arx cocked her head to the side slowly as the gas-person started to riddle off words like a chaingun, interrupting even herself. The Elysian tried her best to keep up with the five of vocalizations.

    "Er, okay, yeah I ha-"
    "No, th-"
    "Teleporter-ah, yes I have one, er..." She took a few deep breaths, attempting to recover from the... onslaught. "But uh, I don't think there were any signals to fixate on?" She rustled her plumage a bit as she turned to her left, the faint blue glow bordering the teleporter' chamber visible down the hall.

    Maybe it's some type of robot? That would explain the lack of a face...
     
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  6. Archduke Seraph

    Archduke Seraph Tasty Club Cooked Bacon

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    In all honesty I have no idea how the SB teleporters really work. I don't think Chucklefish does either.

    "Mmmm that's a good point!" She swivels the squeaky chair and slides out of view, continuing to speak. "I may have forgotten to-" A machine whirs to life somewhere in the facility, creating that distinct azure glow down a hallway. "Yes! Now there's just- that!" A few clicks echo through the building as Ceres rolls back into frame, the wall behind slightly lit. "Teleporter should be all set. Signal has been sent out to your location. Ready when you are..." Her last sentence trails off a bit as she shuffles through the papers lining her desk once again. After finding the one she's looking for, the novakid begins writing furiously. Ceres doesn't look up unless Araxie says something directly to her, in person or otherwise.
     
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