~The Luxuriant Beryllian Battle-Class Ship Palkoris: Mid-Warp~
It was another terribly normal day for the space pirate, Van Aldbaran. He just dished out the paychecks of his hired crew, and they were probably happily somewhere back at the illegal spaceport Switcher's Bay, drinking their livers out and flirting unsuccessfully with girls. Van wished he could have girls with him aboard. Wished. But, he caught rumor about a suspicious trade deal going down amongst a few members of the Oligarchy, and was keen on checking it out. Anything that involved those political bigwigs trading money was always of interest to Van. Especially since Mar Le'saith was in on this deal.
Van mused about these goings-on contentedly and leaned back in his seat with a wide smile. The ship's computer was detecting no problems in the warp-stream, shields were operating at 80%, and the cabins aboard the ship were all stuffed with containers of illegal dosages of poorly-made Vivalite... Yes, this was certainly the good life. All it needed was women. Or if they so fancied, Van wouldn't have minded men, either. Oh, and Cassini owed him money.
...But, Van had three hours of perceived time to spare, until he warped out. Yawn. No big deal. Van stretched, and he yawned again.
"Gravitational shift anomaly detected, warp locked," stated the computer. Van jumped out of his reverie, nearly yanking out the nerve cords that attached him to the piloting controls, "WHAT?! Detect affected range of said anomaly!"
The computer's voice replied in a dead monotone, "Affected range of said anomaly is within 23 percen-3Sakflik-Uvuvuvu-... On'sanskr chu-nyah..Bzzt..."
Van wrinkled his nose and hit the malfunctioning machine, which did little to affect its rapidly deteriorating condition. "Waan sli vulk-nyah!" (You useless machine!) Throwing up his arms in exasperation, Van cursed again in his native tongue. "Zhevisht! Shadei-ku is waaaaay better at being useful than you, you pile o' junk-nyah. Great."
The space pirate stood straighter in his seat, and switched the controls back to Manual. A tingling sensation raced through his body as signals from the ship's neuro-link system began feeding information into his body again. His bright blue eyes widened, and all he could see were cascades of strange colors, and a black poisonous aura... "MAR-ZHEN?!"
An odd electric charge coursed through the ship and knocked the pirate out. Then, the spacecraft shuddered again as it warped and shifted into another plane, and back again to the physical world...
~Odd Plane~ ((Now on the same one as everyone else!))
Van's neuro-link was malfunctioning by the time he became conscious again. He opened his eyes blearily and saw... normal space. Fantastic. He fumbled at the controls to turn the engines on again, but the lever wouldn't move. The neuro-link was shot, and the ship was now beyond Van's control, as the controls only responded to both physical movements and mental signals.
Van cursed. There was nothing to do except wait and see where this ship would eventually end up. As if there weren't enough indicators that things were going very badly, the interior lighting had shut off, giving Van the bizarre impression that he was hurtling through the cosmos on his own. The only light came from what starlight there was in the galaxy.
"At least I'm still within galaxy," he mused, "Could've been worse; could have ended up outside of the place."
Suddenly, something caught his eye: a planetoid...? Out here?
Van's ship drifted towards the planetoid, as if drawn to it by a force. Gravitic science couldn't describe the phenomena, as a gravity well would have crushed the planetoid, or at least pushed it into a shape less recognizably... island-like.
Van stared out from the window in awe as he began to discern other features: grass, forest, a... building? None of these features made any sense, and Van began wondering if he was dreaming. The pull tugged harder onto Van's ship, and he had little time to contemplate anything more as the spacecraft swung port-side, hard. And it crashed up against the pathetic wooden building below.
The stone-like metallic sheen of the ship's body, and its brightly painted vine-form decals, clashed greatly against the rustic splitting wood of the wall as it was torn apart. Surprisingly, the momentum of the crash did little to the booths set up along the wall, except push them (and anyone sitting in them) down towards the entrance of the Bar.
Van wasn't belted inside, and he himself was thrown out from his ****pit. He flew through the air, and skid right down into the middle of the Bar, knocking drinks away before he slid off and onto the floor with a loud THUD.
