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Topic: The Canteen (Roleplay) (Read 1992 times) previous topic - next topic

  • ShadowOfHavoc
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The Canteen (Roleplay)
Welcome folks to the Canteen! A place to relax and enjoy the war stories of some pilots. People come far and wide to share their stories here in the OPPF Canteen. I would like to therefore request that any interested in contributing please give a brief background of your character this part does not have to be in character but if you wish to then go ahead.  However the rest of time remain in character.

The only other rule is keep in civil and have fun.

Welcome folks to The Canteen!

  • Last Edit: October 09, 2015, 02:45:42 am by Xeriar

Re: The Canteen
Reply #1
(Bugger that, I'm not just going to sit here staring at a thread that shouldn't be empty. It'd be too sad to the discerning role player... get in their you cowards, you know you want to)

My name is Tyrus Cassius McQueen,

You need only know one thing about me; when someone asks me what I want, I reply - to live - note that I make a distinction between living and surviving.

I sit down... the bar's empty.

It's quiet. I have to admit, I like a quiet watering-hole, gives me time to think, time to remember, and metabolize the things I've seen and done before I get back out there, whether its the fight with the Vanduul, or going over my ship (Hornet) and load-out, or look up jobs that pay well and need doing.

The bartender takes one look at my face and slides me a bottle of whiskey, knowing I'll pick up the tab at some point or another, and that my credits are good. Its cheap stuff, doesn't burn half as near as it should, but I can't begrudge it for trying to offer the comfort the old brew used to.

So I started pouring my own shots and listening to the old juke as some rustic, old earth number comes on, its not the classical . I'm more for classical pieces - but its blues; dry vocals, dusty guitar and a parched harmonica...

So I drank more to drown it out. Raymond would have loved it - it wasn't the Johnny Cash he was always listening to for Bob, but...

I drank my next shot like it was Vanduul blood, like I was celebrating every kill I notched onto my fuselage today, but it wasn't taking... I was drinking alone... the bar was empty.

Breaking the glass against the bar the next time I put it down stopped me, I looked down at the shattered remains of the glass, took a breath and slowly started to pull the shards from my palm.

as I pulled the jagged remnants from my flesh, one piece after the other, I said again to myself;

"I cannot forgive you."

and with the next shard came the reminder of the day, the way the wing mounted mantis rattled the frame of my bird as I shredded my targets.

"As there are no trustworthy oaths between men and lions -"

The satisfaction of seeing the Alien 'blade' disintegrate in the hail of high calibre shells, its shields useless against the slugs.

"There can be no love between you and me."

I pulled the final splinters from my hand and clenched my bloodied fist

"Before then to glut with his blood, Ares, the god who fights under the shield's guard."

I remembered the G's ripping, tearing at me, as I pulled every juke I could, and the jarring shudders as my aft-shields took weapon impacts, trying to both ignore the desperate cries of my wing as they too were strafed, and listening all too closely... willing my birds engines to burn themselves out to get me there fast enough to answer them with cover.

I paused in my litany, and remembered that I hadn't been fast enough this time, and a final, desperate, deadly game of chicken with a Scythe had cut Raymond in two.

"Now the time comes for you to be a spearman and a bold warrior."

I remember peeling around, nearly blacking out to get that final missile lock, my left wing gone, and my remaining right mantis melting from the overheating barrages I was forcing it to spit out.

With a grimace I game back to the present as I shook off the reverie of seeing the final bogie go down in a corona of fire and a blue shockwave as the Scythe's reactor cooked off.

"You will pay in a lump for all the sorrows of my companions you have killed in your spear's fury."

I picked up the bottle payed for it and the damages, and walked out, taking the bottle with me to spill into the gutter, and to my comrades in Hades.

Next stop, my hanger, where my ship should be repaired if the mechanics have done their job, and from there, back to the front... back to the fight... back to the only thing I'm good for...

"Remember Armitage."

  • Last Edit: November 08, 2014, 07:21:30 am by T.C. McQueen
I know now with certainty who I am, but I'll be damned if I'll ever know the point.