This section of the ship houses the crew. Only the captain and the executive officer have their own private quarters. Currently, however he XO is bunking with the rest of the crew so that the Observer, Lord Meyrink may have a private space befitting his station. The Executive Officer is not pleased with this arrangement.

It is comprised of several narrow aisles flanked by deck to deck bunks, just as confined as space efficient as the rest of the ship there is little room for privacy or embaressment. The showers are open on one end, using sonic scrubbers and abrasion particles to clean the crew. A somewhat painful sensation that takes some getting used to and long time spacers refer to these affectional as "Sand blasters."

The mess hall is no better, only a few metal benches and surfaces to eat on. The quartermaster serves up food with the help of one of the deck apes. Most of the social interaction goes on here and it can be a noisy place.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:06, Fri 18 Jan 2013.

A handful of the crew are sitting around playing cards around discarding flatware and scraps of food. They are laughing and seem to either know each other already or are becoming fast friends.

A couple of them look over at you as enter and go back to their game.

Maire sidled along to an unoccupied table, ignoring the others in the room in favor of being on her own, at least for a little while. She would eventually make friends, but she doubted that jumping into whatever conversation they were having would be a little weird.

From Engineering

Luth walks in to the mess hall and takes a quick glance around.  He nods at the crew playing cards as the look up at him.  He noticed a woman seated at a table by herself and recognized her from the bridge.  He walks over and takes a seat across from her.

"Spike drive jumps are rough, aren't they?" He says, attempting to break the ice with the first thing that came to his mind.

Maire examined the man who had sat down across from her briefly. "Unfortunately so. I'm Maire. A pleasure to meet you...?" She stuck her hand across the table to greet him.

Luth extended his hand and shook hers, "I'm Luth, junior pilot, and the pleasures all mine." He said with a wink. "So, Maire, how long have you been in the service here?"

Wearing a thick, red robe over her uniform, the junior engineer who had been acting as bridge-engine communications followed Luthar into the mess from the same direction, although she had to stop suddenly to avoid bumping into him as he paused on entry. She seemed more surprised than he was, although given the noise and her soft footfalls, he probably hadn't noticed her even then.

While he chose to go straight to introduce himself to Maire, Annie had been on duty since before they'd launched and her human body was weak. She went to pick up a tray from the QM, requesting a post-spike special, before remembering this was a military ship and translating it into a couple of ginger biscuits, normally carried to help deal with space sickness and other astral nausea. Her vulnerability to spike sickness had gotten her teased a lot as a kid, but there really was nothing you could do to overcome that.

Taking her tray, she headed over to where there was most space. The deck crew were somewhat intimidating in such large numbers, and she felt a little more comfortable with the other officers.

"Excuse me, may I sit here?" She asked Maire and Luthar in a carefully modulated neutral accent.

Luth looks up to see Annabel standing there and he smiled, "By all means, please do. We were just chatting a little. So how are things looking down in the engine room?  I was there for a moment, but it's all foreign to me." He smirked and let out a slight chuckle.

Annie slipped into the seat next to him with a smile.

"Ticking over nicely," She replied. "Feels like she could give a lot more. It's an ugly mother of an engine, but it runs smooth."

She nodded to Maire. "Annabel Grey. You can call me Annie, or Anna if you prefer."

"Maire. A pleasure to meet you Anna. As to your question Luthar, just a few years. I spent most of my life in training." Maire said, sticking her hand out for the new women to shake as she answered Luthar's question.

Janus passed through the mess hall on his way toward his quarters, stopping to serve himself some tea. He goes about this matter in a highly ceremonious fashion, revealing many years spent perfecting his technique. He is in no hurry whatsoever, but seems to pay little attention to anything else, showing no interest in the rest of the crew present in his vicinity. His expression is not nessecarily rude or disturbed, just apathetic and distant, as if he were absorbed in a train of thought.

"If you're not learning, you're dying." Annie made her opinion known, shaking Maire's hand. "At least, that's what my professors used to say," she chuckled. "So you two are... career navy?" She asked, tilting her head curiously.

"It's a career now," Luth said with a smirk. " Not that I'm complaining, this sure as hell beats flying the old rock-jumper back home. I've been piloting now for...what's it...tulvo co se..." he pauses for a moment, a look of concentration across his brow, "Eighteen, right, eighteen years."

Dizzy ducked through the door that connected the general quarters to the mess hall, a slightly irritated look on her face.  Yesterday, yesterday had been her day.  Ceremonies for the departing vessels, for good fortune, for fond friends who would be apart for some time.  She'd attended the blood mingling ceremony as one of their crewmen promised themselves to a traditionalist Serntiaari woman, should he survive his service.  Late at night, she'd gathered the Gareshi together in an isolated part of the low berths and lead them through the Gorumite ritual for warriors about to brave the Long Winter, to affirm their dedication to each other, to pray for worthy adversaries, and to ask for favor in finding valuable resources in the field.

Now.  Now it was today, and it was the crews' day, managing the functions of their vessel, and winning whatever glories voidmen took from the stars in their continued survival.  And she'd started it off by upending the remnants of last night's ceremonial meal into an orange plastic baggie.

She looked cross as she made her way between the rows of benches.  She'd ditched the jacket of her uniform in favor of a tank-top since she was off duty.  Indarian atmospheric controls were almost universally set at a warmth native Gareshi equated with the swelter of summer, and though she'd come a long way to acclimate in the passed few years the jacket was still something she wore only to appease superior officers.  Hanging around her neck was an amulet of red metal, fashioned into the shape of a downward pointing sword, and strapped to her hip with an 9.5" blade which she kept primarily for ceremonial purposes.

"Water and a hard biscuit." she said, eschewing smalltalk with the quartermaster for the moment.  She quietly took her tray to an open space and set it down, biting down hard into the biscuit and then tearing the chunk in her mouth away with a turn of her head.  She took her time chewing it though, reaching down and pulling a fresh deck of cards out of her cargo pockets.  She opened the box and took out the tiny folded paper instruction booklet, starting to read as she washed down her first bite.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Sat 15 Dec 2012.

Arik was seated by himself, glumly staring at the slop upon his plate. It was almost as if he stared at it for a bit longer, he could will it into something edible. There were a lot of things he hated about life in the Astrals, and there were certainly things he liked. But what he hated most was the damned food.

Making things worse was the fact that his fellow troopers were down below, on a mission, while he was sitting in the mess hall, useless. Arik had signed up to prove himself, not to sit alone and chew on tasteless biscuits. Sighing loudly, Arik chomped down on the stale bread, downing it with a gulp of water.

As you sit there, mulling over your lot in life and starting to regret this assignment you curse but one name "Sigga Ramseth Aesgar" Firstborn of House Aesgar and claimant to the Jarlthrone of Skyreach, you notice something in the corner of your eye. A shape flitting from shadow to shadow near the bulkhead down one of the access cooridors, heading towards the engine room.

Arik blinked his eyes at the swift moving shape, unsure of exactly what he was seeing. Rising quickly from his feet, he ran over to the wall comm unit, pressed the button and spoke into it rapidly:

"Disturbance on the mess hall access corridor, to the engine room." Patting his belt, and feeling the reassuring weight of his family's heirloom knife, he trotted off down the corridor, following the strange flitting...whatever it was.

18:22, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 7 using 2d6-1. Perception.

No response. Not even static.

You see it again, a lithe shape, almost certainly human pausing before slipping under the deck panelling in the hallway and vanishing from sight, no 12 meters from your position.

Arik hissed out a quiet curse at the lack of response from the comm unit. Whatever this thing was, it was likely related to the comms outage. Tensing nervously, he drew his knife, and trotted towards where the thing had ducked below the paneling. Not wanting to just stick his head into the deck paneling, he paused, staying still and listening to see where the apparition may have gone.


21:35, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 7 using 2d6-1. Perception (Again, if thats okay).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Fri 01 Feb 2013.

There it is again! The sound of metal scraping on metal maybe 6 meters down the hallway and moving away from you swiftly... heading for the engineering section almost certainly!

"Got you," Arik whispered. "You...you whatever the hell you are."

Sprinting forward now, he didn't try to chase the sound. Instead, he tried to head it off, trying to get to engineering, its presumed destination, before it did.

You charge ahead, attempting to make it to engineering first. You realize there are a few factors now. You have only your knife and no armor, while the unknown may be armed with anything.

Additionally, if you move too quickly, you may alert the unknown to your presence and spoil any chance of an ambush.

You will be passing your quarters on the way to the engine room where your weapons and armor are kept. You will lose valuable time if you choose to grab a weapon and even more time if you don your armor.

He certainly didn't want to face whatever this was with just a knife, especially if he was alone. So he took a sudden turn, trotting to his quarters to grab his rifle and armor. As fast as he could, he suited up, but Arik also kept an eye out any other disturbances or any other crewmembers.

There appears to be one of the Deck Crew asleep in one of the far bunks, but stopping to wake them and explain what's going on might cost you even more time.

Deciding to risk further delay, Arik trotted over to the sleeping crewmember and kicked the edge of the man's bunk.

"Wake up. We've got a problem. Grab your gear, if you've got it. There's an intruder aboard, heading for engineering."

You don't remember his name but he looks at you sleepily before his eyes widen in realization!

"We- we have to tell the captain!"

He bolts upright, hitting his head as he hastily puts on boots.

"Get to the bridge!" Arik shouted, even as he was running back into the corridor. "Internal comms are down, so you'll have to do it old-school." With that, he ran into the hallway, his rifle snug against his shoulder, as he made for the engine room.

By the time you get to the engine room, you realize you lost too much time grabbing your gear. One of the deck hands lies dead from some kind of skirmish, a deep laceration through his throat and both ateries. The entry way into the main engineering section is coathed with the crimson of blood and the body of the female deck crewmate lies still against the bulkhead.

The engineering section is fairly large, but it's also crowded and there are multiple paths through the machinery to the main core, very few avenues of sight and little room to manuever, but many places to hide.

Arik blanched at the sight of the bodies, but he didn't dwell on them for long. Swiftly he moved into cover behind one of the pieces of the machinery, peeking out from behind the cover, searching for sign of whatever had killed the crewmembers.

21:10, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 9 using 2d6-1. Perception.

It's hard to make out anything in here, too much in the way. You realize you need to press ahead, but you need to also be careful of being detected and ambushed... you need to move with caution and be ready.

OOC: You're in engineering now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:13, Sat 02 Feb 2013.

After taking a deep breath, Arik got up out and cover, slowly and methodically advancing, his eyes swiveling, searching for threats. His rifle was up and at the ready, searching for any sign of the thing that had murdered the engineers.

For the twenty-second time, Lanik flinched as another creak ran through the hull. Again, he momentarily closed his eyes and thumped himself. "Come on, you damned fool. Just jumping at ghosts." Running a final glance over his old combat rifle, he chambered a round before opening the door to his quarters and sliding into the corridor.

Gun raised and ready, Lanik stills himself to listen out for any movement in his vicinity.

22:50, Today: Lanik Greist rolled 9 using 2d6-1. Perception.

You can hear conversation coming from down one of the hallways. You can't make out what is being said. It's maybe 15 meters away in another room. Potentially in the mess hall. Hard to say.

Hearing distant voices, Lanik decides to go to the mess hall. He lowers the muzzle of his rifle towards the ground but remains vigilant as he moves.

"...aware of the situation."

The quiet hum of various components fills the background.

"Yes. He will die without surgery."

You can only make out one part of the conversation, the other voice is too low to make out over the ambient noise.

"That's insane. Even if there was something down on the surface, we can't know if it would even still be working."

Returning to his cabin to stow his firearm, Lanik ensures he is carrying his metatool before heading to the lift. Steeping through the automated doors, he rides it down to engineering. "At the very least," he thought, "I might be able to lend a hand fixing up the shuttle."

>>To Engineering>>
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Fri 15 Feb 2013.