tdm 5

[hownkai]

T E S T D R I V E

ABOARD THE MOIRA Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged, but as another planet grows closer to being docked, things start to get a little hectic. You'll notice a slight change in the artificial gravity as the Moira is pulled into a gravitational field; however, more noticeable changes can be found in the overall morale as you prepare to descend. ☄ on your own There are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ERIS — 6578 Welcome to one of the sister Eris planets. This one, unlike many of its counterparts, is incredibly high dollar. For visiting individuals, it is mandatory to wear clothes befitting of such a status. For those aboard the Moira, it means discarding work attire for the formal wear they have been provided. Characters will find the temperature moderately cold, a late fall to early winter feel, and their outwear must reflect the prestige Eris—6578 is universally known for. Any sort of trading is strictly done through computers and electronic orders--nothing hands-on as it's considered beneath the inhabitants to indulge in such outdated means of interaction. Unlike most systems, money is needed to purchase things on Eris. The captains have given the crew unlimited credits; with each transaction, simply "pay" with the MID. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ lavish living Fine dining? The movies? Or perhaps gambling? Whatever your tastes, Eris caters to everyone and everything—the more expensive, the better. There is no limit to what can be done when one has the money to spend, and this lifestyle reflects in the people and surroundings. Even sex is a very ornate process held to the highest discretion. Feel free to indulge, but know that it isn't without its consequences. ☄ taken In its underbelly, Eris—6578's main function is the trade and trafficking of bodies for one of two purposes: to be placed in a situation where you are made to kill for another's enjoyment or are tortured and killed based on the client's personal tastes. Each scenario is designed to fit the paying customer's predilections and is often carried out in places secured and private. Remember, money is no object. Therefore, the extent of what they do or make you do has no boundaries either. OUT OF CHARACTER INFO FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

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[backsassin]

[She nods once in response and watches him walk out the door, feeling a prickle of fear run through her as she realizes that now she’s truly alone in this. She takes a deep breath to steady herself. Fear is energy: useful so long as you don’t let it overpower you. She frowns as she realizes that it’s advice Jango had given her. ’Not now, you bastard.’ She busies herself attaching the silicon armor over her Moira uniform, not a trivial process when one only has one hand.

A matter of minutes after her benefactor leaves, two guards enter to escort her to the ring. She picks up the weapons the man had left her, putting the electric tool in one of the uniform’s pockets; she has bigger plans for it than simply using it on her opponent.

Minutes tick by and not long after Miller has left the building and arrived at the transit station, panic seizes the fighting ring. Crowds of people spill out onto the streets, seemingly desperate to escape whatever calamity has occurred inside. Word spreads that one of the fighters managed to escape the ring, and had, well… changed. That much seems to be the only thing people can agree on, besides the fact that afterwards, the entire building had been plunged into darkness. There’s no consensus regarding what she actually changed into, though some choice descriptors include the words “monster,” “devil,” and “mutant.”

In any case, a few minutes after the panic dies down, a woman approaches Miller at the transit stop. With her unfamiliar face and clothing, she may as well be a stranger. The only feature that suggests otherwise is the conspicuously empty right sleeve at her side. She walks straight up to Miller, smiling demurely.] Well, [she says,] I think it’s safe to say that I owe you.

[warandpeace]

[When he's approached by a pretty woman, he doesn't think much of it. Just that she's pretty, until she speaks and he recognizes the voice, mentions having owed him. His cataract eyes narrow behind aviator frames, and the scope of what she can do roughly strikes him.]

[Useful. And as a natural ability, not something imposed with artificial genetics or viruses or parasites or machines. At least he assumes.]

No. [He looks her over, not even sure they're necessarily female anymore. Maybe it's a tactical advantage.] If there's anything I've learned about affluence, it's that people get the idea they can buy anything. Or anyone. [He says simply.] I'm not here by choice, but we're part of the same crew. You help your own. [As best you can, anyway.] You're not hurt?

[He can get her back and come back to look for more people.]

[backsassin]

I’m fine. [A few spectators had tried to lay hands on her after she got out of the ring, but she had put a stop to that very quickly. Zam doesn’t particularly like pulling the whole monster facade -- she’d much rather present herself as a person -- but she has to admit, given the right crowd, it can sure as hell clear a room.]

Well, even if I don’t owe you: thanks. Really. [That had been a bad situation all around. Without his help, things could have gotten a lot uglier.] I would have hated for any of those bastards to have actually made money on that match.

[She suddenly seems to remember something.] Oh. [She reaches into one of the pockets of her new clothes and pulls out the electrical tool he had given her earlier.] I had to leave the rest of it behind, but... [She hands the tool back to him, handle first.] I believe this is yours.

[warandpeace]

[He hooks his crutch around his upper arm so he can take the tool and put it in his pocket.]

I'll go back with you. Better I make sure you get home safely. [He pays for their tickets aboard what looks like a light rail as the cars slide into the station.] There are probably people here that aren't very capable at all.

[He wouldn't look like he is, except that he's obviously muscular underneath the coat (in that lanky sort of way). And he gets aboard the train quickly, reaching up to grab one of the hanging handles rather than finding a seat. Easier getaway.] So what are your limits in what you can look like? [He asks her quietly.]

[backsassin]

[She follows him onto the light rail. She sits while he stands; regardless of the strategic benefit or lack thereof, she’s tired. She leans her head back against the window behind her, finding some comfort in feeling the thrum of the engines against her scalp. Her eyes go to the man when he speaks.]

Upright bipeds are the easiest for me. Human, zabrak, weequay… you get the idea. [She chuckles wearily.] Or maybe you don’t. I keep forgetting about the “different universes” thing. Basically, the whole “two arms, two legs, one head” pattern works best. [She glances towards the empty sleeve at her right.] Well. Worked best. Unfortunately, I’m bound by the same rules as the rest of the galaxy. I can’t create new matter, so when something gets cut off, it’s gone for good.

[Her gaze goes back to him.] I didn’t get your name, by the way.

[warandpeace]

Yeah. I guess I'm not that well versed on all the "two arms, two legs" groups around. I need to work on that. ...Well... for the most part. [He glances over at his own lack of arm, the loose part of his coat hanging off his shoulder and hiding where his uniform sleeve is pinned up.]

[He looks at her again.]

Miller. [Miller always seems easier to people where he's been working. It wasn't great back in Japan, his birthplace, as the soundparts didn't mesh well. After a moment of considering that he elaborates.] Kazuhira Miller. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.

You look pretty tired. [That's obvious enough, but it bears noting.] Did you pick somewhere to stay close to the ship? If you did, you can rest until we get close to that stop. I'll keep an eye out.

[backsassin]

[She follows his gaze to his own empty sleeve, lips turning up in a brief smirk. Two amputees meeting before a deathmatch; it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.]

Miller. I’m Zam. And I’m very glad I met you under these circumstances. Things could have been a lot worse if I hadn’t. [It would have been a bad way to go, and that’s coming from someone who had already gone in a pretty bad way back in her home-universe.]

I’d rather just stay on the ship if that’s possible. I think I’ve had enough of this planet for a few decades.

[warandpeace]

[He finally sits beside of her because he guesses that they're safe enough now, purposefully keeping his right side to her so that he can still fend easily with his left.]

I'll tell you when we get close. Zam?

Yeah. I didn't figure they particularly cared to keep the people they were taking alive. It didn't seem there was much of a shortage of "product". [There is a touch of contempt there.]

[backsassin]

Sounds good. [She leans back against the window again, eyes on the roof of the railcar.]

Places like this, there never is. [From what she could see from inside her holding cell, most of the other fighters were other natives, though their appearances and state of dress clearly marked them as from a much lower class than the bettors.] I guess when they saw the Moira docking, they got a taste for something more exotic.