Sunday, 26 June 2011


The clamps reached up to the side of the freshly-docked Federation Navy Comet and plucked the capsuleer pod from it, carrying the precious cargo to the side of the bay, where it opened, disgorging the pilot onto the deck. Laria towelled herself off briskly, darting into the transient quarters to find some clothes to put on.  This station was a bit out of the way, and the message from Tiger had been cryptic at best. Still, it was probably romantic. Certainly fun. But she didn’t have very much time, and she didn’t want to keep him waiting.

Flanking the door that Laria emerged from were two security personnel, provided by the Phell clan, or, more specifically, Tiger. The time taken to extract her pod and for her to get presentable had given them more than enough time to reach her. She didn’t quite know why they were necessary, but... he insisted. Still, she set off at a near run, forcing them to scramble to keep up with her. She rounded a corner in the corridor and then something triggered in her mind.  A shadow in the wrong place. There was the sound of a shot, and Laria looked down to see a dart lodged in her stomach. Her vision started to waver and she fell to her knees, faintly hearing the sound of energy weapons discharging around her. The haze was thrown back by a searing pain across her right shoulder, and then the world dissolved into blackness.

Signal to Phell Clan Communication Channel: ++ SECURITY EMERGENCY++ Corvid is down, repeat, Corvid is down ++SECURITY EMERGENCY++

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

OOC: Captain's Quarters

"This ship is not ugly. This ship is NOT ugly."

"So bored. Ship spins itself."

"Look dramatic...two...three..."


Tuesday, 14 June 2011


It was, on balance, Laria decided, a good thing. Yes, it had begun rather drunkenly, and then it had continued with her accidentally destroying one of his expensive ships, but it seemed to be developing nicely.
She'd worried that he wasn't really appropriate for a sassy adventuress, but then it turned out that he had enemies.
Anyone who had enemies powerful enough that he needed constant bodyguarding (she pushed aside thoughts about how nice a body it was) had surely had adventures, and dark secrets and intrigue. Or at least battles. And someone with enemies mattered.
She wasn't aware that she had any enemies.
This was distinctly worrying. No enemies and a nice, newly-refurbished apartment overlooking the docking bay does not comprise a sassy on-the-edge devil-may-care existence.

Maybe she could borrow some of his enemies? Surely he could spare a couple?