Turning she walked up to the man wearing her dark cloak. All of her was covered and anyone could think that she was a small shy, or suspicious male. She looked up at the strange man and pushed her hood out of the way only slightly so that she could try and see anything shiny in him. She pulled down her hood realizing she showed him her face and waited there for a response.
Maxine Melody Merchandise wrote:
Turning she walked up to the man wearing her dark cloak. All of her was covered and anyone could think that she was a small shy, or suspicious male. She looked up at the strange man and pushed her hood out of the way only slightly so that she could try and see anything shiny in him. She pulled down her hood realizing she showed him her face and waited there for a response.
Heavy pale eyes, soulless even looked at her
"Are you the new addition to the crew?"
His voice was heavy and robotic
She nodded and looked around at his clothing for shinies. She loved shines. She pulled down her hood and looked at the man straight in the eyes. "Yeah. New crew member." She shook out her short hair and grabbed her necklace not feeling exactly comfortable standing in front of someone so tall being so small.
"Enter the ship, im sure more member will come. Go to crew cabins after hangar inside"
The man stood there, waiting for more people. For the new crew
The man stood there, waiting for more people. For the new crew
ASH wrote:
"Enter the ship, im sure more member will come. Go to crew cabins after hangar inside"
The man stood there, waiting for more people. For the new crew
The man stood there, waiting for more people. For the new crew
She smiled a ghost of a smile and nodded sliding past the strange man glancing back once inside. "Weird..." She walked inside and looked around the interiors. Looking for shinies to possibly stuff in my pockets.
Quote:
Looking for shinies to possibly stuff in my pockets.
There was nothing, it was old and rusty hangar inside at first
ASH wrote:
Quote:
Looking for shinies to possibly stuff in my pockets.
There was nothing, it was old and rusty hangar inside at first
Maxine growled softly and sat on the floor taking a deep breath and closing her eyes and waiting.
Ryan looked around and spotted the man at the ship. He shifted his black cloak that was covering his body. His black eyes stared ahead unable to blink. "This where the crew is meeting?" Ryan took out a flask from the folds of his cloak and took a drink.
Man look at him and with robotic voice he answers:
"Yes, go inside to the crew cabin. They are just after the hangar inside."
"Yes, go inside to the crew cabin. They are just after the hangar inside."
Maxine quickly stood up and grabbed her necklace and looked at the entrance feeling nervous.
Ryan nodded and stepped inside. "So I'm not the first one to arrive it seems." He said quietly. He nodded to the other person there and took another drink out of his flask.
Dry winds rustling golden dunes gently in the endless sand ocean beyond the boundaries of the Cairo Interstellar Starport. From the sky shone the dominating presence of the Earth Star Sol – that legendary sun which would one day live on but as myth within the hearts of men all throughout the Galaxy wide. A mild day by the standards of old Egypt, the hot air cooled by an easterly breeze across the dunes.
But it was within the starport itself that the adventures would begin – and even he wasn’t quite entirely certain as to how he had gotten there.
Through the lobby without a care in the world, into the recesses of the great, cavernous hangar bay where a miserable, bulky excuse for a transport ship sat sodden and lonely.
The improbable old man came sauntering around a corner, strolling with a distinct swagger that sat just between – not a care in the world – and @#$% I’m fabulous. A bright, though long-since timeworn crimson jacket and a wide-brimmed black hat, beneath which a pair of gold-rimmed, fully-tinted circular sunglasses peered out. He was diminutive in stature of course – but as he approached it was clear even from behind the glasses that the man was positively ancient. From a belt beneath the coat behind him dangled something resembling a double-barreled shotgun, and a couple of bottles, the labels of which were obscured by their leather holsters.
He did not so much as turn to look at the hulking, rather-inhuman figure that stood beside the entrance to the transport ship. The closest gesture he would give to a greeting or acknowledgement of existence was a very slight touch of fingertips to hat brim, and an imperceptible nod.
Utterly ignoring anything said to him, he swaggered right through the threshold of the transport and into the main passenger bay, where the others had begun to gather. A critter who was smaller even than himself, and a tall male in mostly black attire.
Similarly to as before, the old man gave no indication of any greeting whatsoever to either of them, regardless of what they might have said to him. He walked right between the two of them, utterly and uncaringly interrupting any start of conversation the two of them might have been previously engaged in.
Then, once he had reached the opposite end of the ship, he spun around and flopped down to sit heavily upon some protruding pipe or similar apparatus, where he reclined with leisure and made himself quite at home. From behind him, he produced one of the glass bottles, holding it by the neck. The label read ”Dan Jackal’s Bourbon” and an amber elixir was contained within – it was quite full.
Then, as if solely to outdo the man in black with his flask, the old man uncapped his bottle, tipped back and began to drink.
And he drank.
And drank.
And drank.
…
And drank.
And it took some two minutes before he had at last emptied the bourbon into his gullet – at which point he breathed a sigh of contentment, then flung the bottle across the room so that it went soaring out the entryway and shattered into a few billion fragments about the floor of the hangar bay.
”Well dagnabbit, when’s this rusty bucket’a bolts gonna’ get movin’?!” He squawked suddenly, and very loudly. There was something of a scowl on his face, though one might have guessed that this was more of a ‘resting expression’ than anything. He looked back and forth between the man in black and the little critter expectantly, as if expecting an answer – and, of course, all the while he did not remove his fantastically dapper sunglasses, despite the fact that it was more than dark enough in the transport that there was no need for them.
When there was no instantaneous reply, he squawked again in a loud, grating voice, announcing to the world "I'm on the crew now!!"
Well, wasn't he just charming?
But it was within the starport itself that the adventures would begin – and even he wasn’t quite entirely certain as to how he had gotten there.
Through the lobby without a care in the world, into the recesses of the great, cavernous hangar bay where a miserable, bulky excuse for a transport ship sat sodden and lonely.
The improbable old man came sauntering around a corner, strolling with a distinct swagger that sat just between – not a care in the world – and @#$% I’m fabulous. A bright, though long-since timeworn crimson jacket and a wide-brimmed black hat, beneath which a pair of gold-rimmed, fully-tinted circular sunglasses peered out. He was diminutive in stature of course – but as he approached it was clear even from behind the glasses that the man was positively ancient. From a belt beneath the coat behind him dangled something resembling a double-barreled shotgun, and a couple of bottles, the labels of which were obscured by their leather holsters.
He did not so much as turn to look at the hulking, rather-inhuman figure that stood beside the entrance to the transport ship. The closest gesture he would give to a greeting or acknowledgement of existence was a very slight touch of fingertips to hat brim, and an imperceptible nod.
Utterly ignoring anything said to him, he swaggered right through the threshold of the transport and into the main passenger bay, where the others had begun to gather. A critter who was smaller even than himself, and a tall male in mostly black attire.
Similarly to as before, the old man gave no indication of any greeting whatsoever to either of them, regardless of what they might have said to him. He walked right between the two of them, utterly and uncaringly interrupting any start of conversation the two of them might have been previously engaged in.
Then, once he had reached the opposite end of the ship, he spun around and flopped down to sit heavily upon some protruding pipe or similar apparatus, where he reclined with leisure and made himself quite at home. From behind him, he produced one of the glass bottles, holding it by the neck. The label read ”Dan Jackal’s Bourbon” and an amber elixir was contained within – it was quite full.
Then, as if solely to outdo the man in black with his flask, the old man uncapped his bottle, tipped back and began to drink.
And he drank.
And drank.
And drank.
…
And drank.
And it took some two minutes before he had at last emptied the bourbon into his gullet – at which point he breathed a sigh of contentment, then flung the bottle across the room so that it went soaring out the entryway and shattered into a few billion fragments about the floor of the hangar bay.
”Well dagnabbit, when’s this rusty bucket’a bolts gonna’ get movin’?!” He squawked suddenly, and very loudly. There was something of a scowl on his face, though one might have guessed that this was more of a ‘resting expression’ than anything. He looked back and forth between the man in black and the little critter expectantly, as if expecting an answer – and, of course, all the while he did not remove his fantastically dapper sunglasses, despite the fact that it was more than dark enough in the transport that there was no need for them.
When there was no instantaneous reply, he squawked again in a loud, grating voice, announcing to the world "I'm on the crew now!!"
Well, wasn't he just charming?
She blinked and lifted her hood and watched them both drink. She didn't feel comfortable. She spoke quietly, "Can you please not drink?..." Sitting down in a corner and closing her eyes leaning on the wall. She didn't like how Alcohol clogged the brain. And made people reckless. As a theif though... she watched them looking for even a slight shine of gold or silver to take and use for herself.
Ryan put his flask away and looked at the other person. "Don't worry, when you're someone like me getting drunk is almost impossible." He pulled back his hood, revealing his black hair and cold black eyes. "Name's Ryan, you are?" He didn't know what to think of these people, hopefully this didn't turn out his last job and these people weren't going to attack him.
She smiled faintly and nodded her head. "Maxine. Call me Maxie for short if ya want." She pulled back her hood and nodded at Ryan. "Nice to meet you." She scanned him more for shiny objects her eyes wide. She stood up and looked towards the entryway. "When do you think the others will be here?"
The tall man, all under strange fabric clothing comes through hangar doors. He slowly aproach group, his mask releases air as he presumably breathes. He stares for the new crew for the while. After the while he speaks with robotic voice
"I can't say that this crew seems capable of something much. Well, that doesn't change anything. We are going to fly from earth to another solar system and search planets there, while on one of them i will do bounty. On each planet there might be something interesting and worthwile. Some of them may be peacefull, some you may never leave as you would be dead. If someone of you is scared, you can leave now."
His cold eyes stare at the three
"I can't say that this crew seems capable of something much. Well, that doesn't change anything. We are going to fly from earth to another solar system and search planets there, while on one of them i will do bounty. On each planet there might be something interesting and worthwile. Some of them may be peacefull, some you may never leave as you would be dead. If someone of you is scared, you can leave now."
His cold eyes stare at the three
Ryan glanced at him. "I don't get scared." He threw his hood back on and pulled up a piece of black fabric that covered his face excluding his eyes. "When do we leave?" Ryan took out his flask and went to take a drink but was disappointed when he discovered it was empty. He shrugged and crossed his arms.
“You can call ME ‘Grandpa’!” The old man crowed suddenly, introducing himself thusly despite that nobody had actually asked.
“And I don’t know about these hooligans, but I’M gonna’ kick some serious donkey up in these here parts…And young lady, I haven’t been sober in EIGHTY SEVEN YEARS! It was terrible.”
With hands that seemed barely to tremble at all despite their clearly preposterous age, Grandpa casually reached to his face and, at last, removed the shimmering, gold-rimmed sunglasses to fold them promptly and deposit them into the front breast pocket of his velvety crimson jacket. There they hung from one arm, glittering tantalizingly in the scant ship light and practically begging to be snatched…If someone could manage to snag them from right out beneath his nose. They were definitely real gold, too. Spiffy.
Eyes like verdant jewels peered out from beneath the hat now, and they were narrowed with some kind of scrutiny of his fellow crewmates. He observed as the man in black – who went by ’Ryan’ – recognized his own lack of alcohol. Wordlessly the old man rummaged behind him, digging in a small pouch in the back of the belt from which also dangled the gun and collection of eclectic bottles.
Some seconds later he produced a small, squat, metallic bottle, the label of which read ’Stoutley’s Super Stout Brandywine’. Then he flung the bottle – which was full and unopened – at Ryan Fletcher’s head, likely clonking him a good one in the temple – or, if not, at least striking him in some other part of the body.
“Out of alchie, huh, Mister ’Don’t Not Done Get Scared’? Well NOT ON MY WATCH DAGNABBIT!”
The man did not seem angry, just grumpy. He was probably always grumpy.
Some seconds later, something occurred to the old man. With an incredulous expression he glanced around at the three others, then lastly resting eyes on the strangely inhuman one who seemed to be in charge of the operation. ”Wait a second, you tellin’ me that we’re all there is?” This seemed profoundly unlikely to Grandpa, who nodded in acceptance of the answer. ”Well it ain’t make no dadgum difference – and would the two of you quit fiddlin’ with them black hoods a yours? Everybody wants ‘ta be so gyahtdayum edgey these days, I tell ya what. Tsk tsk.”
“And I don’t know about these hooligans, but I’M gonna’ kick some serious donkey up in these here parts…And young lady, I haven’t been sober in EIGHTY SEVEN YEARS! It was terrible.”
With hands that seemed barely to tremble at all despite their clearly preposterous age, Grandpa casually reached to his face and, at last, removed the shimmering, gold-rimmed sunglasses to fold them promptly and deposit them into the front breast pocket of his velvety crimson jacket. There they hung from one arm, glittering tantalizingly in the scant ship light and practically begging to be snatched…If someone could manage to snag them from right out beneath his nose. They were definitely real gold, too. Spiffy.
Eyes like verdant jewels peered out from beneath the hat now, and they were narrowed with some kind of scrutiny of his fellow crewmates. He observed as the man in black – who went by ’Ryan’ – recognized his own lack of alcohol. Wordlessly the old man rummaged behind him, digging in a small pouch in the back of the belt from which also dangled the gun and collection of eclectic bottles.
Some seconds later he produced a small, squat, metallic bottle, the label of which read ’Stoutley’s Super Stout Brandywine’. Then he flung the bottle – which was full and unopened – at Ryan Fletcher’s head, likely clonking him a good one in the temple – or, if not, at least striking him in some other part of the body.
“Out of alchie, huh, Mister ’Don’t Not Done Get Scared’? Well NOT ON MY WATCH DAGNABBIT!”
The man did not seem angry, just grumpy. He was probably always grumpy.
Some seconds later, something occurred to the old man. With an incredulous expression he glanced around at the three others, then lastly resting eyes on the strangely inhuman one who seemed to be in charge of the operation. ”Wait a second, you tellin’ me that we’re all there is?” This seemed profoundly unlikely to Grandpa, who nodded in acceptance of the answer. ”Well it ain’t make no dadgum difference – and would the two of you quit fiddlin’ with them black hoods a yours? Everybody wants ‘ta be so gyahtdayum edgey these days, I tell ya what. Tsk tsk.”
Ryan caught the bottle. "Thanks but no thanks." He tossed the bottle back to Grandpa. "I prefer to drink what I make." He only drank from his flask, he had almost been poisoned once when he drank from a drink that someone gave him.
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