SWWT Enemy Roleplay Posts


    Posts : 255
    Join date : 2010-06-15
    Age : 31
    Location : Los Angeles, CA

    SWWT Enemy Roleplay Posts

    Post by [Order]-Kaal on Mon Aug 02, 2010 8:27 pm

    Post any new RP scripts that concern the Nomads, Cultists and any other Hostile faction that you feel is important for members to read. Please have a link available at the bottom of the document so we can reference the script, use the "['url']URLHERE['/url']" code to hyperlink...of course negate the ' in the boxes. Knowledge is power.

    Last edited by [Order]Cmd.Kaal on Mon Aug 02, 2010 8:34 pm; edited 1 time in total

    Posts : 255
    Join date : 2010-06-15
    Age : 31
    Location : Los Angeles, CA

    "The Pilot" - Nippon knows of our defeat by Nomads at Alaska

    Post by [Order]-Kaal on Mon Aug 02, 2010 8:29 pm

    Found in a garbage can in the office of the Anjin, a folder with a few report-sheets inside, stained with garbage juice, is picked up and read by his secretary

    . . .jin:
    . . . .Order ships. . . ngaged . . .omads and suff . . . eavy casualties. Overall, nine fighters succumb . . . fighters. Reports of the fight indicate that the fighters weren't elite nomads . . .ga and Psi. Drones were both . . . once, but returned and chased the . . . order pilots back to the "Arizo . . . The current page ends and is pushed aside to reveal the second, more dry page

    Nomad strength in Alaska is still present, though. I believe it can be relied upon to weaken . . . communications with them ahs been brief, and they havent agreed on a set amount. though we must be especially careful of . . .
    remaining. . . gajin will not expect us to . . .

    The note becomes unreadable hereafter

    footnote: each elipsus (. . .) denotes an indefinate lack of text

    //Original Post found at http://freelancer-swwt.com/Forum/index.php?topic=5829.0

    Posts : 255
    Join date : 2010-06-15
    Age : 31
    Location : Los Angeles, CA

    "Overture" - This is how far the reach of the Cult really goes...

    Post by [Order]-Kaal on Mon Aug 02, 2010 8:48 pm

    Agatha glanced at the slim platinum chronometer that adorned her wrist to confirm that the day cycle was coming to an end at the Interspace Commerce Building in the heart of Manhattan City. With a sigh of relief she closed down the legal brief she had been reviewing and was preparing to depart when an urgent message flashed on her data sheet requesting her immediate presence in one of the Executive conference rooms ensconced at the top of the towering building.

    Ten minutes later she knocked softly at the intricate detailed brass sheathed door before entering into the understated opulence of the board room itself. An irregular slab of gleaming Seeka wood served as the conference table and was illuminated by a single bright light that highlighted its rich golden color while casting the rest of the room into darkness. Agatha took her place at the single empty seat and nodding a respectful greeting to the figure seated at the far end of the table.

    After several moments of meditative silence, the figure at the head of the table spoke softly from the darkness, its melodious voice contrasting sharply with the harsh syllables.

    "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

    "Ammutseba fhtagn." Agatha murmured in response.

    "Welcome, Agatha and thank you for responding so swiftly to my request."

    "I live to serve, Seba'an."

    "As do we all, Agatha. So, to business. Our representatives have convinced the Council of Xenographic Antiquities to grant Miskatonic Technologies license to import a limited number of artifacts for, ah...scientific research." Agatha can sense the smile that accompanies these words.

    "That is welcome news, Seba'an." Replies Agatha

    "Indeed. However, our normal channels of acquisition have become corrupted. I had planned to contract with the Kohola to arrange the purchase and transport of these items but their recent and unfortunate interactions with the corrupted Outcasts no longer makes that a viable option. Our Hogosha contacts only have only a limited number of artifacts on hand and few from the region we seek. Any recent shipments they have acquired are quite likely tainted by the Outcast presence in the Sigma system. For these reasons we require a separate, reliable source of artifacts. You have served our cause with diligence and aptitude Agatha so I am entrusting you with this responsibility."

    Agatha bowed her head "You honor me, Seba'an."

    "The appropriate travel documents and vouchers have been loaded into your account as well as the details of the particular artifacts that we require. The Miskatonic office on Bonn Station has been instructed to provide you all possible support with local authorities and legalities. Our Minuet agent on Bonn will contact you once you land to provide any assistance you may require of an irregular nature and tidy up accounts. I leave the details in your capable hands."

    Sensing dismissal in this statement, Agatha rose from her chair and bowed her head to the figure before turning towards the door.

    "Oh, one other thing Agatha."

    As Agatha turned back to the table, she glimpsed twin points of cerulean flash in the shadows as her body becomes wracked by pain. Her limbs contort and she collapses to the carpeted floor, screaming silently in her mind as her body convulsed in agony. Then, like a great wave, the pain changes its tempo through her body and she undulates on the floor as paroxysms of pleasure shockwave through her system. Her mind continues its silent scream as she moans and twitches on the floor. As quickly as it begins, it ends. She senses her mistress pause near her spent, twitching body and that melodious voice caresses her tortured mind.

    "Fail me in this and your torments will be unending. Succeed and ecstasy awaits."

    Returning to her office suite on the topmost floor of the IC building, Symphony took a moment to gaze out over the surrounding city, sparkling and throbbing in the darkness with the life of its human occupants.

    "Human and Nomad, on the surface we're not so different." She mused silently.
    "Vast legions of drones led by a select elite and protected by those designated and designed to do so. Both driven by imperatives that they could hardly control much less understand."
    Running her hands down her host/sister's body, relishing the tactile sensations of warm flesh and silk, she smiled, "It is with the chosen few that fused together the genus that the eventual salvation of both species would be found in the opening of the Ng'lazt."

    Watching the luminous flow of life a mile below her vantage point she continued her rumination, "The humans know so little of the Nomads and the prevailing theories pieced together from the fragments of the Dom'Kavash culture are so erroneous as to be almost humorous.

    But if it makes humanity feel more secure, more superior to cast all history and alien culture in light of their own human experience in a way that they can grasp with their feeble intellects and still maintain their image of dominance well, it certainly makes my endeavors easier to accomplish. When it all comes to fruition the humans will find that the truth of the Nomads is so much more terrifying and glorious."

    Turning away for the spectacular view, Symphony settled behind her gleaming slate desk and considered her reflection in its polished surface. Her host/sister possessed a certain pleasing symmetry of features that other humans found attractive.

    One of the benefits of their symbiotic melding was that she would retain her youthful visage for far, far longer than those of a similar age. Symphony knew that this extended youthfulness pleased her host/sister. Another benefit of their union was the need for so little sleep which allowed the pair to keep abreast of both their corporate and Minuet activities.

    Swiftly entering the access code upon the surface of her desk, her reflection was replaced by the coded missives of her agents. While those initiated into the mysteries of Minuet were few in number, they were supported and aided by a larger circle of humans who were oblivious or uncaring of the true nature of the cult but drawn to the dominant who could feed their base needs: money, sex, power. All human cravings and all so easy to fulfill and thus willingly enslave these sycophants. Collectively these humans were known as "Clefs" to their "Minuet" masters and they formed the bulk of her informants.

    As she analyzed the latest updates, her fingernails beat a repaid tattoo on the surface of the desk as she issued orders. Symphony knew it was odd that someone in her position of power would interface in such a manual process but like her Minuet children she abhorred any type of augmentation or cybernetics as these destroyed the natural energy pathways of the body.

    In Colorado the underground following that had sprung up around a deranged but charismatic preacher on Denver who espoused the freeing of the spirit in preparation for the end of times had finally taken the step of sacrificing several of their own. Symphony directed that the cult was to be exposed to authorities and the fragment of artifact that had corrupted the human leader was to be secured and transported to Manhattan.

    The clinics sponsored by Allegro continued to collect the DNA signatures of its human attendees in the course of providing care to the dispossessed. It was a painstaking process to cross reference and categorize the results but slowly the shape of the Lineage was coming into focus. Symphony authorized the allocation of additional IC funds to support Allegro's efforts.

    The search patterns flown by the Clef pilots within the sector continued to map the flow of energies throughout the systems and narrow the potential locations of the nexus. The shear volume of space made such an undertaking seemingly futile but Symphony knew that such nexus were inexorably drawn to clusters of life energy and thus were found most often in the inhabited systems. Losses to the interception patrols flown by the Order remained within acceptable tolerances.

    The Order? Misguided fools but useful in their way. They wrap themselves in the arrogance and glory of their destruction of a frightened immature Queen as she flailed against her brood's exposure in the Rheinland sector. Their destruction of the corrupted queen in Kusari was a boon for Symphony's agenda, eliminating a rival and allowing her to concentrate her efforts towards her own concerns rather than having to defend against the Kusari brood.

    Even after their unsuccessful actions in Rheinland and Kusari, the Order was still certain that the Nomad imperative was the consumption or destruction of humanity. This was a belief Symphony encouraged. Create a hive and send out drones and the Order responded like Pavlovian canines to the sound of a bell.

    Oh, there were a few that suspected that the threat was so much greater...that she did not want to enslave humanity but free it.
    These humans would have to be?

    A muted chime sounded from her desk and a soft voice murmured "Director, the board meeting is in fifteen minutes."
    Symphony's host /sister swiftly came to the fore as the new day cycle began. "Thank you Claire. I shall be along directly."

    Agatha tucked an errant curl of raven hued hair behind her ear as she surveyed her apartment before departing. Through the doorway to her sleeping chamber she glimpsed the barely visible tousled tresses and curve of one long leg of her pet above the rucked up silken sheets of her divan. After her encounter with the Seba’an, Agatha had been aroused and inspired - both of which she had exercised upon the smooth limbed body of her pet. By the time she returned from her trip, she mused, the wounds will have healed thus adding another layer to the artwork of scars that adorned her pet’s body.

    An opulent apartment suite on the exterior of the IC arcology was one of the advantages of being a member of Minuet. Having a ready sycophant who took pleasure in acceding to Agatha’s will and blades all the while knowing and rejoicing that her attentions could lead to its death was another. And yet another benefit waited patiently for her in the hallway beyond her apartment.

    “Good morning ma’am. I trust you had a restful evening?”

    “Good morning Mr. Sim. Indeed, it was most…refreshing.”

    While Agatha was skilled in a great many things, piloting spacecraft was not one of them. Her work usually kept her on Manhattan or Newark Station. For those times when she needed to travel beyond the immediate reaches of New York, the Seba’an had arranged for the services of Mr. Sim who acted as her pilot, valet and, when necessary, her security. Like her pet, Mr. Sim existed to serve the needs of the members of Minuet.

    Picking up her valise, Mr. Sim followed her to the private lift and activated the security console. An observer would find them a study in contrasts. Mr. Sim was tall and cadaverous. His skull was narrow and seemed to be composed of harsh planes and angles. Shockingly black close cropped hair contrasted sharply with his pale skin. His near colorless lips were twisted in a permanent smile that was not reflected in his blue eyes.

    Agatha, on the other hand, was shorter and pleasantly round. A pet had once had dared to describe her as Rubenesque before she cut out its tongue and eyes for its insolence. Her hair was a sleek black wave that curled above her shoulders and her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and amusement.

    Both were dressed in fashionably understated couture of the finest material while discreet jewelry adorned Agatha’s ears, wrists and throat. Neither sported any obvious signs of hidden augmentation.

    In the secured garage a waiting ground effect vehicle whisked them through Manhattan City’s busy streets to a private sector of the spaceport where a sleek black and silver ship stood prepped and ready on the landing pad.

    Mr. Sim assisted Agatha into the passenger compartment before climbing forward to the pilot’s chair. Hatches hissed closed and lines were disengaged as the ship slowly rose through the sky to the upper atmosphere before engaging its powerful drive engines.

    “I took the liberty of filing a flight plan to Bonn Station, ma’am.”

    “Efficent as always, Mr. Sim.”

    Reclining in her seat, Agatha scanned the latest intelligence from Rheinland.

    //The script was separated into three parts but I brought it together as one. Beautifully written and terrifying, help us if players are actually going this covert into factions as Cultist agents. Original link at http://freelancer-swwt.com/Forum/index.php?topic=3496.0

    Posts : 255
    Join date : 2010-06-15
    Age : 31
    Location : Los Angeles, CA

    Is Anyone Truly Safe - Infection Risk to Order Pilots

    Post by [Order]-Kaal on Thu Aug 19, 2010 8:43 pm

    @ http://freelancer-swwt.com/Forum/index.php?topic=5877.0 Combined posts into one story. Im thinking of addressing the issue via Bar story.

    Jack Bradshaw sat in his ship waiting to launch into space for yet another patrol of Nomad Space. Checking his weapon load out, ammunition, and running several tests to insure his Fighter was in peek condition and ready to combat the Nomad scourge if and when they encountered them. Another day in paradise he reflected to himself. He would be gone for a few days then would be on leave and have time to spend with his beautiful wife Michelle and their two daughters Madison and Olivia. But hey that was the brakes and this job not only provided more than enough credits for his family and he to live comfortably but he enjoyed his job. The thrill of the fight was unparalleled and knowing that he was doing his part in defending humanity from the Nomads. His com stat bused and an incoming transmission form order command came thru.

    “Order patrol Bravo Zulu Zulu Won this is Order Command prepare for launch. Safe journey and see you all when you return Order Command out.”

    This was it business time they were to head straight to the Lower Nomad Space and seek out Tangos venturing to close to their patrol routes of the jump holes. A short trip by standards Jack and his squad members would be gone for just under two weeks.

    “Eight Victor Seven Two cleared for launch”

    With that Bradshaw launched into space and glanced back at the planet quickly before leaving the atmosphere and heading into space. Little did he know that was to be the last time he seen his home….

    Bradshaws control board beeped as he could see three nomads entering range of his scanner. The squad leader came over the net.

    “Get ready boys we got three smerfs headed our way. As soon as they enter range split off into pairs Alpha engage Tango one, Bravo engage Tango two, Charlie nomad three. Switch weapons to hot a remember we are humanities line of defense so we fight with the fury of hell to the last man.”

    Jack leaned forward and switched the toggle to engage all weapon groups. He then targeted Nomad two and waited for what was to come. His group member chimed over the net.

    “Hey jack 5,000 credits say I kill this one off before you even fire one volley”

    “Not a chance Mike you know Im already in the lead between us for most confirmed skills”

    “Will see how long you stay there jack will see”

    “Nomads in range all pilots engage”

    With that Aplha and Charile broke off and headed east and west respectfully. Jack and Mike headed straight for their Nomad. He could see the other groups engaging out of his peripherals and put them out of his mind he had only one concern and it was the blue blur headed straight for him when suddenly it disappeared from in front of him and his scanner.

    “Shit Jack I think he just cloaked split up…..”

    The transmission went dead as he watched the fire explosion of his squad mate being blown into pieces. His ship rocked as it was hit by a cruise disrupter. Leaving him with no other option fight or die…

    His ship shook as he and the Nomad rocked each other with their volleys Jack hit the engine killed and turned around for another charge. He was dangerously low on nano-bots and had now shield batteries he was becoming more and more worried that he might not make it out of this one alive and never again see his family he seen the flash as a torpedo was dropped out of the nomad ship seizing what could be his only chance Bradshaw fired a cruise disruptor at the torpedo and prayed to god that it would hit.

    Watching as the blue ship erupted into a beautiful explosion of flames and space shrapnel not unlike when he had witnessed his comrade destroyed just a few hours ago Jack engaged the tractor beam hoping to salvage something from the wreck he turned his ship around to look for his squad members just as he noticed they were nowhere to be found and two more Nomads were headed his way. All of sudden his world plummeted into darkness…..

    Regaining consciousness and feeling like his head was about to explode Jack went to hold his throbbing head but his arms wouldn’t respond. Trying to remember what had happened it all flooded back in a rush and he unsuccessfully tried to glance around for the other two Nomad ships or his comrades. Trying to recall what had happened when he had gone unconscious he realized his ship was flying its self moreover that it wasn’t on auto-pilot and that his very hands that earlier hadn’t responded to his commands were grasping the controls and steering the Fighter. What was going on was he dreaming how could he be flying his own ship if he couldn’t get his body to do what he wanted to it. That had to be it this was just a bizarre dream and he would awake soon enough. Maybe it was all just a dream and he was at home sleeping beside his wife and his sub-conches was just worried about the mission. Yeah that was it he was having a dream and was just worried about his patrol. His head angled down towards the scanner and seen that he was headed towards four Order pilots. Good friendly’s maybe once he reached them he would wake from this dream.

    “Order Eight Victor Seven Two this is order patrol Bravo Hotel Golf aren’t you a little far from your patrol route”

    He tried to respond but couldn’t get his mouth to work as the distance between the patrol and his ship became smaller and smaller.

    “Order pilot I repeat what are you doing here”

    Again he tried unsuccessfully to reply.

    “Order Eight Victor Seven Two this is patrol Bravo Hotel Golf do you copy”

    No sooner had the Patrol Leader finished his sentence then his ship exploded then jack watched helplessly as his hands pointed his ship at another of the Fighters and it two went up in an explosion before the Order Pilot even realized he was under friendly fire.

    What was going on why was this happening so many thoughts ran thru Bradshaws head as his sip made short work of the other ships. When his Fighter turned and headed towards the Battle ship in the distance jack caught a reflection of himself in the ships window and saw the glowing blue eyes that looked back at him. It all clicked in his head at once the fight, engaging his tractor beam, he was infected!

    He had tractored in the nomad and now he was forced to watch as a helpless bystander as that vile creature did what it wanted with his body. And just as before Bradshaw feel back into darkness once and didn’t regret not being able to witness whatever it was the Nomad planed to do with his body next..

    Admiral Kaal
    Admiral of Order Fleet Maine
    Owl Flight Leader
    Unofficial "Squid Fryer"

    Sponsored content

    Re: SWWT Enemy Roleplay Posts

    Post by Sponsored content

      Current date/time is Wed Jan 16, 2019 8:23 am