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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: Galaxy's Edge Space Bar
« Last post by Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin) on Today at 04:48:39 AM »
Rathien feels the situation is well-enough in hand to order another miruvin, though he vows to sip it properly this time.  If imbibed slowly-enough, his high metabolism would actually process the liquor without the sleepiness or drunkenness.  Of course that had always struck him as prudish, as were many "customs" his less-feral species-mates embraced.  But this one time, he figures maybe it's best to stay sober...for the most part.

He doesn't bother looking at the sounds of altercation, or at Salem as he stands, ready to throw himself into the fray on the off-chance he might get something out of it in the end.  He chuckles deep in his throat as he hears Salem's precious cloak arcing.  He suddenly feels Salem's eyes on the back of his head.  Without bothering to return the glance, he casually hold his right arm to his side, raising the middle finger of his right hand in Salem's general direction, smirking to himself as the BT sets the flute of silvery-clear liquor on the bar in front of him.
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: Galaxy's Edge Space Bar
« Last post by Myitt on Yesterday at 03:11:35 PM »
"Joanne thinks she's my friend," Myitt amends, grinning at Keshin. "But that doesn't mean either of you have any right to go killing my friends. Or me. You got that? Jesus, I feel like I gotta tell you this every coupla years."

She turns an irritated scowl on Guppy, but seems appeased by his words. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it, I just need some water or whatever. Gotta keep hydrated. Bartender, can I get a glass of water? A clean glass. Actual water."

The entire business with Nepek and the new arrival skates cleanly over Myitt's head, which only indicates how troublingly drunk she is.



Outside the bar, the Bug fighter's hatch slides open, and the ramp extends neatly to the ground.

A man in his thirties with sandy brown hair, neatly gelled, steps out and inspects the surroundings with a look of distaste on his normally placid, pale, Caucasian face.

He brushes a black Imperial sleeve, as if the air itself were filthy, but he approaches the bar nonetheless, black Army boots crunching in the sand and gravel of the lot.

As he weaves out in front of the last ship before the bar facade, he pauses again, judging. Sizing up the ramshackle building.

With a look of resign he trudges toward  the building, placing a hand gently on the butt of the Dracon holstered at his side. He sulks right past the strange, very un-Yeerkish ship that emitted Salem and houses Al.

His black jumpsuit uniform has no insignia to indicate any sort of rank, but it contrasts wildly with his pale complexion and light hair. Otherwise, he looks boyish and like his cheeks would burn red in cold weather. Like a stiff drink would make him fall over.
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: Galaxy's Edge Space Bar
« Last post by Terenia on Yesterday at 02:59:08 PM »
William regards Jeffrey with a look caught somewhere between thoughtful and perturbed. He doesn't dwell on the Super much, though, frowning and turning his attention back to Al.

"We are both," he answers simply. "Human and Grigori, become one. It is the only way my kind can walk among the humans." He hesitates, then adds, "At least, as far as my reckoning goes. I am relatively new to this existence. As for being considered a god..." His shrug is nonchalant. "Everyone enjoys a good story. I may as well give them something to talk about. And when a human is left to explain the unexplainable...wel l, the stories do get interesting." There is an edge of malice to his smile, made more pronounced by the dried blood smeared along his chest.

His gaze follows Al's to the Bug Fighter, and his smile fades. "But this...this place, and these contraptions...they are far beyond anything I have ever seen. Which is to say nothing of the creatures themselves. These Yeerks are fascinating. I wonder..." He trails off, then clears his throat, looking down at himself. "Ah -- I should clean myself off." He holds his hand out for the too-tight shirt Al had procured. "Use your map-maker wand, if you must. I see no harm."
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: GESB: OOC Discussion
« Last post by Terenia on Yesterday at 02:52:33 PM »
:( No dead computers allowed!


Scott, Al is my hero. Just so you know.
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: GESB: OOC Discussion
« Last post by Aluminator (Kit) on Yesterday at 11:37:40 AM »
Still computer-less then. Blech. I'm sorry.
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: GESB: OOC Discussion
« Last post by gh on Yesterday at 03:57:20 AM »
Hey, when it comes to posting on RAF, I'll make do with what I have. If my phone breaks too, I'll use my old, barely functional laptop from like 2002. And if that breaks, I guess I'll send telepathic messages to RAF's server or something :P
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: Galaxy's Edge Space Bar
« Last post by Aluminator (Kit) on February 22, 2017, 10:18:04 PM »
Al blinks at Jeffrey. "You took her blood? Like, literally her blood? Don't squishies need that to live? Might that have something to do with your current... er... situation?"

He lets out a low whistle. "That's a pretty sizeable dome, though. Why's it necessary? Or is it necessary?" He laughs. "I guess I wouldn't put anything past a society where superhuman rock star charmers like yourself run the world." He grins. "And you're giving Billy here crap for being a ghost pirate."

He ****s a head at William. "You talk about your... er... Grigori form and your... human... avatar... as if neither was you. Are you either? Are you both? Neither? Do they still exist?" He smiles. "I don't mean to pry or anything, it's just... fascinating." His eyes flutter partway shut, as though he's putting great effort into remembering something. "Deities? You've been considered a god? Several gods?" He giggles gleefully, then clears his throat. "I mean, uh... fascinating. But I tend to agree with you. Not much matters beyond what is at this moment. Man after my own heart. Or..." he grins... "ghost pirate god after my own... radiator pump?"

He looks towards the Bug Fighter that has yet to let anyone out. "I'm giving them thirty more seconds before I go make sure nobody's hurt," he says to no one in particular.



When an altercation breaks out between the cloaked Hork-Bajir and the new human, Salem drops into a ready stance, facing the pair, Shredder in hand, though he keeps it aimed at the floor. He's ready to move if he needs to. His cloak flickers from grey to black and back again, sparks crackling from the gash Rathien's knife had left across the front of the garment. He frowns down at the cut, and then shoots an annoyed glance over his shoulder at Rathien.
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Animorphs Role Playing / Re: GESB: OOC Discussion
« Last post by Aluminator (Kit) on February 22, 2017, 09:52:36 PM »
Tara: Alive is good. Alive with more paleo poop peeps is better ;) Good conference?

Kells: Glad you're apparently feeling better ^_^ There seems to have been a lot of crud going around here lately.

gh: How in the world can you post this stuff from your phone? I can't bring myself to write anything this detailed without a keyboard. It's kinda the same reason I primarily make Resistance posts in the evening.

Granted, I may be the only one who feels that way :P

Jessi: Yay!
9
General Fan Fiction & Art / Re: Memoirs of a RAFian
« Last post by Cloak on February 22, 2017, 09:00:09 AM »
Actually something that would make more sense in the next chapter or two.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Backfired

G.C. elated and reveled in his success. He had brought everyone in this town to their knees! They would all know of his genius, they would all regret crossing him. They would genuflect kisses and lick his boots and --

Then something occurred to him. Jovian surface gravity is a little more than twice Earth's surface gravity. People were not adapted for such things, having evolved with Terran gravity. This sudden increase in weight could potentially lead to a death.

G.C. was many things -- arrogant, conceited, reckless, self-important, naive, bumbling -- but a cold-blooded murderer was not one of them. He didn't really give much mind to the potential property damage though, he considered that unimportant. He went to his machine, his gravity alteration device, and was about to tinker with it -- thinking perhaps Saturnian surface gravity would be better, or perhaps Uranian surface gravity would be less deadly. Perhaps Neptunian surface gravity would be better, less fatal.

But as he bent down to work on it, he had to shield his protected face as there was a slight explosion, like the backfiring of a car. A sudden stream of smoke and fire issued from the uppermost left corner of the device before dissipating.

"I must have overloaded the graviton flow," he muttered what appeared to be scientific gibberish. "Or maybe underloaded? No, no, it's been overloaded. The polarity seems to have been -- oh!"

He realized that he was floating. No, he wasn't floating. Just falling very slowly. He glance down at the machine. It wasn't augmenting Earth's gravity, it was suppressing it. Suppressing it to the level of lunar surface gravity, which disgruntled G.C. He tapped his boots allowing him to stand on the ground, unaffected by the anti-gravity.

"Agh," he bemoaned, "I knew installing that interplanetary randomizer feature was going to come back and haunt me."

He went back to examining the damage to his machine was delighted to discover that the damage was just purely cosmetic. But he felt a sense of paranoia. He deemed this place wasn't safe enough -- he didn't want to be discovered, not just yet. So it was time to find and move into another base of operations.

***

Cloak wished that Yarin's scanner could have narrowed down the area that he had to search. This was still a considerable about of terrain to sift through, and it may not even be hear anymore, especially if he's like Malice, shifting his base of operations every few days or weeks.

Cloak gave his surroundings a look and he didn't like what he saw. Trees bent over horribly, to the point of snapping. Some had. The grass, long and short alike, looked very bedraggled and trampled. Buildings were creaking ominously and threateningly, straining to support the unexpected weight gain. Glass was shattering, unable to take the unexpected gain of weight. Cars were forced flat to the ground, forcing some tires to even pop, becoming flat and useless.

Cloak couldn't help but liken it to a desolate, dystopian world. Bodies were littered literally everywhere.  Were they dead? Cloak was afraid of using his Earthsight to verify. It still disturbed him that when Dwellers die, they leave corpses behind. Realm Walkers did nothing of the sort, so it was very alien to him, still, despite being a RAFian for so long.

Then he felt a swooping feeling, making him double over. Not in pain exactly, but more like . . . adjusting. . . .

Of course. The gravity must of changed again.
10
General Fan Fiction & Art / Re: Memoirs of a RAFian
« Last post by gh on February 22, 2017, 05:39:07 AM »
Ah, that must be the owl half of me finally coming out ;)

Also that's probably gonna be a joke in the next Mad Guitar Player for the record
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