IC SOLITARUS: HOSTILE WATERS

[Fluxxation]

SOLITARUS: HOSTILE WATERS
A Solitarus Side-Story By Fluxxation!

"Welcome back to the initiation process!"

"As your head finally clears and you begin to wake up, do not be alarmed at your surroundings!"

"The Captain intends to meet with you shortly. For the time being, please do get up, get your sea-legs, and have a look around!"

"Feel free to mingle with the Astral Forge Operators, as they will be a crucial aspect of your mission!"

___________________________________________

OVERVIEW SCHEDULE PROGRAM (OSP):

ACTIVE DIRECTIVE: COMPLETE PREPARATIONS

CURRENT PHASE OF OPERATION: P0-1, ??-- MUTINY --??

___________________________________________

"If you are, somehow, here without having submitted your medical records, and identifiable information, please return to the submission channel to do as such!"

"Welcome aboard... - do I have to say it."

"Yes."

". . . "

"Welcome aboard.. 'Captain Ironside's Middle Finger'.. the cutting edge in Astral Forge sea-tech, and please, do not forget:"

"You are expendable."​

 

[Fluxxation]

Your chest, or perhaps, simply a chest cavity, feels tight, as if freshly opened and shut. The innards feel new, tampered with, slightly out of place, and, in scrutinizing yourself, incision marks are present. The skin is neatly fused back together where an evident operation occurred.

The party lies in what is unmistakably a barracks. Rows of plain, white sheeted, white-pillowed beds with grey covers are fastened neatly to the floor in double-decker rows. There seems to be enough beds for a good 20 people, though only around half seem full.. others like you, awaking to this strange new place.

The walls, plain, grey-brown riveted metal, groan slightly, the echoes reverberating for seconds on end as they seem to travel throughout the structure of.. whatever vessel it is you're upon.

It is a vessel, right? It bucks slightly from time to time, and the floor is tilted every so slightly forwards.. though the later might just be your imagination.

Aside from some tall, weathered lockers, a heavy metal door with a thick, vertical handle and worn glassy circle-window sits at one end of the room, parallel with the rows of beds. Muffled, distant voices come from outside, some of which might be familiar to those on-board.

It's pretty clear, whatever lies ahead for you is behind that rather heavy looking door.

Answers? Danger? Who the hell knows. You are pretty hungry, though.

 

[Orchamut]

Haren leans against one of the walls, trying to get his bearings. The movement of the craft is causing him to feel a bit ill.

 

[Creeper326]

Your chest, or perhaps, simply a chest cavity, feels tight, as if freshly opened and shut. The innards feel new, tampered with, slightly out of place, and, in scrutinizing yourself, incision marks are present. The skin is neatly fused back together where an evident operation occurred.

"Ain't the first time this kinda crap happened. Probably won't be my last."

The party lies in what is unmistakably a barracks. Rows of plain, white sheeted, white-pillowed beds with grey covers are fastened neatly to the floor in double-decker rows. There seems to be enough beds for a good 20 people, though only around half seem full.. others like you, awaking to this strange new place.

Great. Didn't know we were joining my brother in the navy.

The walls, plain, grey-brown riveted metal, groan slightly, the echoes reverberating for seconds on end as they seem to travel throughout the structure of.. whatever vessel it is you're upon.

It is a vessel, right? It bucks slightly from time to time, and the floor is tilted every so slightly forwards.. though the later might just be your imagination.

Aside from some tall, weathered lockers, a heavy metal door with a thick, vertical handle and worn glassy circle-window sits at one end of the room, parallel with the rows of beds. Muffled, distant voices come from outside, some of which might be familiar to those on-board.

It's pretty clear, whatever lies ahead for you is behind that rather heavy looking door.

Answers? Danger? Who the hell knows. You are pretty hungry, though.

Cannibalism?
Shut the hell up, Kav.
Just a suggestion! Jeez you're touchy.
*Tethin's body ensures his coat and hat are still on his person's, and his three guns are still in their holsters as well as the knife in it's sheath. He stands up and scrutinizes the other passengers. Disregarding them, he walks up to the door, trying the handle to open it.*

 

[Fluxxation]

Haren leans against one of the walls, trying to get his bearings. The movement of the craft is causing him to feel a bit ill.

And up close... it is very clear they are only rudimentary cleaned.

Actually.. are they ever cleaned at all? It's damn near impossible to tell how old this vessel is with the state of the worn walls.

*Tethin's body ensures his coat and hat are still on his person's, and his three guns are still in their holsters as well as the knife in it's sheath. He stands up and scrutinizes the other passengers. Disregarding them, he walks up to the door, trying the handle to open it.*

In yanking, the frame on which it lies only rattles against a lock.

With a door that big, knocking it off the hinges doesn't seem possible either.

The voices are still faintly audible from the other side of the door. Perhaps if you rattled it a bit harder? Anything to get their attention, really.

 

[Cream Starlight]

Meanwhile, Cream is looking around in the initial room.
"Huh..."
And she spots Tethin/Ghoul. <Woah.>

 

[Your Host.]

Markas rises, and it knows. Wherever it is, is somewhere it was not made to be. It knows this is wrong... but cannot muster the desire to care.

And so it stares out the window. Understand where it now has purpose. If it has registered being with others, it has not shown such awareness.

 

[Creeper326]

And up close... it is very clear they are only rudimentary cleaned.

Actually.. are they ever cleaned at all? It's damn near impossible to tell how old this vessel is with the state of the worn walls.


In yanking, the frame on which it lies only rattles against a lock.

With a door that big, knocking it off the hinges doesn't seem possible either.

The voices are still faintly audible from the other side of the door. Perhaps if you rattled it a bit harder? Anything to get their attention, really.

*Ghoul begins rummaging through his duffle bag. A few homemade explosives, some dried jerky, a crap ton of extra ammunition, some spare acid... Ah! There's what he's looking for. Ghoul pulls out a guitar and begins playing Against a crooked sky, essentially singing about his own gangs exploits as he strums the guitar feverantly and uses his heel to bang against the door to imitate drumming.*

Meanwhile, Cream is looking around in the initial room.
"Huh..."
And she spots Tethin/Ghoul. <Woah.>

*He winks at her as the guitar stings move.*

 

[Cream Starlight]

*Ghoul begins rummaging through his duffle bag. A few homemade explosives, some dried jerky, a crap ton of extra ammunition, some spare acid... Ah! There's what he's looking for. Ghoul pulls out a guitar and begins playing Against a crooked sky, essentially singing about his own gangs exploits as he strums the guitar feverantly and uses his heel to bang against the door to imitate drumming.*

*He winks at her as the guitar stings move.*

SCremlooks confused at first, but as she hears the sound outside, she understands what Ghoul's attempting.
..
She silently draws out her hammer and goes near the door, sneaking right beside it.

 

[Fluxxation]

The voices dampen for a moment, then grow louder as a few voices laugh at the singing. One deeper, masculine voice, and two higher feminine ones, though distinctly different.

The laughter abruptly cuts as a louder, huskier lady's voice cuts through the commotion, barking what have to be orders, as the laughter and other speaking have completely dissolved away otherwise.

There's a bit of silence before footsteps become audible. A faint form fills the doorway, visibly roughly from the little tinted circle-window. The figure, working to press something beside the door, seems to have a set of wide, low horns, along with floppy ears amidst their matted hair.

The visage seems a bit familiar to the Ghoul, quite familiar actually, though to the rest, it's hard to even tell what the person looks like after such a quick glance.

There's an awkward period where the person on the other side of the door is grunting and heaving, working to manually open the locking door mechanism, it seems.

The husky voice barks another order, and the person by the door grumbles under their breath.

 

[Creeper326]

"Foundation, I expect a sizable explanation for this."
*The Ghoul raps a few knuckles on the guitar and metal door, making the sounds of bones rattling echoing through both chambers as he finishes the last notes, dispositing the guitar.*
"Also, how's Nailz doin'? And I expect the little fox is somewhere amongst pleasant company."

 

[Cream Starlight]

A single drop of sweat rolls down Cream's cheek.
She isn't paying attention to the zombie bug boi, but instead the movements outside.

 

[Orchamut]

*Ghoul begins rummaging through his duffle bag. A few homemade explosives, some dried jerky, a crap ton of extra ammunition, some spare acid... Ah! There's what he's looking for. Ghoul pulls out a guitar and begins playing Against a crooked sky, essentially singing about his own gangs exploits as he strums the guitar feverantly and uses his heel to bang against the door to imitate drumming.*

Haren grits his teeth and taps his foot against the floor in annoyance.

The voices dampen for a moment, then grow louder as a few voices laugh at the singing. One deeper, masculine voice, and two higher feminine ones, though distinctly different.

The laughter abruptly cuts as a louder, huskier lady's voice cuts through the commotion, barking what have to be orders, as the laughter and other speaking have completely dissolved away otherwise.

There's a bit of silence before footsteps become audible. A faint form fills the doorway, visibly roughly from the little tinted circle-window. The figure, working to press something beside the door, seems to have a set of wide, low horns, along with floppy ears amidst their matted hair.

The visage seems a bit familiar to the Ghoul, quite familiar actually, though to the rest, it's hard to even tell what the person looks like after such a quick glance.

There's an awkward period where the person on the other side of the door is grunting and heaving, working to manually open the locking door mechanism, it seems.

The husky voice barks another order, and the person by the door grumbles under their breath.

He walks up closer to the door and peers at it intensely with his little blank eyes.

 

[Fluxxation]

"Foundation, I expect a sizable explanation for this."
*The Ghoul raps a few knuckles on the guitar and metal door, making the sounds of bones rattling echoing through both chambers as he finishes the last notes, dispositing the guitar.*
"Also, how's Nailz doin'? And I expect the little fox is somewhere amongst pleasant company."

Given there’s no response, the person on the other side either can’t hear him, or opts to say nothing.

With a final loud crank, the lock seems to be undone, and the door is pulled open.

Foundation towers over them, looking down with hazy, tired eyes. His ears droop and his slender tail whips behind him. It’s clear he’s been taking a verbal lashing.

“Show ‘em around, horns. We’ll meet in the control room at system hour 17.”

Whoever’s old, husky voice spoke, you can only catch a glimpse of another heavy door snapping shut at the ‘front’ end of the rectangular room, a greenish shark tail, scarred and tattered, flitting inside.

Adjusting his leather coat, Foundation exhales, hard. His nose ring rattles a bit.

“You’re awake.”

“The other two that we dragged here.. they awake yet?”

He peeks inside the room, looking around, spotting them still in the beds.

“.. As long as they’re up into the next half a system hour.”

He takes a few steps away, entering the central, rectangular room.

Gauze, Armaturnaya, and Nailz are all seated at a long, high table. The smaller medic is giggling, hand with a cigarette between her fingers pressed over her mouth. Armaturnaya glances over with some visibly wariness, eye searching the crowd before reluctantly looking back to Gauze. Nailz is just staring at everyone, breath quietly rasping from his mask.

The central hall is long, with walls composed of huge pipes and bundles of wires and cables. There’s a beverage bar, and a sheet door to what looks like a small kitchen.

At an indent in the floor, a bunch of haphazardly placed furniture makes a rough looking lounge area.

“So.. Armory, exit port, or getting some food first?”

Looking expectantly on, he waits for the group to exit the resting quarters.

 

[Cream Starlight]

Given there’s no response, the person on the other side either can’t hear him, or opts to say nothing.

With a final loud crank, the lock seems to be undone, and the door is pulled open.

Foundation towers over them, looking down with hazy, tired eyes. His ears droop and his slender tail whips behind him. It’s clear he’s been taking a verbal lashing.

“Show ‘em around, horns. We’ll meet in the control room at system hour 17.”

Whoever’s old, husky voice spoke, you can only catch a glimpse of another heavy door snapping shut at the ‘front’ end of the rectangular room, a greenish shark tail, scarred and tattered, flitting inside.

Adjusting his leather coat, Foundation exhales, hard. His nose ring rattles a bit.

“You’re awake.”

“The other two that we dragged here.. they awake yet?”

He peeks inside the room, looking around, spotting them still in the beds.

“.. As long as they’re up into the next half a system hour.”

He takes a few steps away, entering the central, rectangular room.

Gauze, Armaturnaya, and Nailz are all seated at a long, high table. The smaller medic is giggling, hand with a cigarette between her fingers pressed over her mouth. Armaturnaya glances over with some visibly wariness, eye searching the crowd before reluctantly looking back to Gauze. Nailz is just staring at everyone, breath quietly rasping from his mask.

The central hall is long, with walls composed of huge pipes and bundles of wires and cables. There’s a beverage bar, and a sheet door to what looks like a small kitchen.

At an indent in the floor, a bunch of haphazardly placed furniture makes a rough looking lounge area.

“So.. Armory, exit port, or getting some food first?”

Looking expectantly on, he waits for the group to exit the resting quarters.

Cream stands there with her hammer "nonexistent".
"? ...Food, please."

 

[Orchamut]

“So.. Armory, exit port, or getting some food first?”

Looking expectantly on, he waits for the group to exit the resting quarters.

Cream stands there with her hammer "nonexistent".
"? ...Food, please."

Haren nods at her statement.
"I concur."

 

[Creeper326]

Given there’s no response, the person on the other side either can’t hear him, or opts to say nothing.

With a final loud crank, the lock seems to be undone, and the door is pulled open.

Foundation towers over them, looking down with hazy, tired eyes. His ears droop and his slender tail whips behind him. It’s clear he’s been taking a verbal lashing.

“Show ‘em around, horns. We’ll meet in the control room at system hour 17.”

Whoever’s old, husky voice spoke, you can only catch a glimpse of another heavy door snapping shut at the ‘front’ end of the rectangular room, a greenish shark tail, scarred and tattered, flitting inside.

Adjusting his leather coat, Foundation exhales, hard. His nose ring rattles a bit.

“You’re awake.”

"Judging by the stiffness in this body, and the fact I've been awake in my own world, we've been out for a while."

“The other two that we dragged here.. they awake yet?”

He peeks inside the room, looking around, spotting them still in the beds.

“.. As long as they’re up into the next half a system hour.”

He takes a few steps away, entering the central, rectangular room.

Gauze, Armaturnaya, and Nailz are all seated at a long, high table. The smaller medic is giggling, hand with a cigarette between her fingers pressed over her mouth. Armaturnaya glances over with some visibly wariness, eye searching the crowd before reluctantly looking back to Gauze. Nailz is just staring at everyone, breath quietly rasping from his mask.

"Ah! Armaturnaya, such pleasant occurrences to have you in healthy shape."
*As he says this, Armaturnaya may feel a slight slowing of her heart beat, evidently not her own body's doing.
The Ghoul smirks. Her heart returns to normal again. His gaze lingers on her for a few moments before turning to face Nailz.*
"Gotten over your tail whoopin' Lacertilia?"

The central hall is long, with walls composed of huge pipes and bundles of wires and cables. There’s a beverage bar, and a sheet door to what looks like a small kitchen.

At an indent in the floor, a bunch of haphazardly placed furniture makes a rough looking lounge area.

“So.. Armory, exit port, or getting some food first?”

Looking expectantly on, he waits for the group to exit the resting quarters.

"If you'd explain the details regarding each of the options, I'd be more inclined to oblige. I recognise that I may not look it, but I do intend to keep this body from being negatively affected if I can."

 

[Fluxxation]

Cream stands there with her hammer "nonexistent".
"? ...Food, please."

Haren nods at her statement.
"I concur."

With a pointed look to the new arrivals, he nods.

“Sure.”

He turns, striding towards the high table where the other operators sit.

"Judging by the stiffness in this body, and the fact I've been awake in my own world, we've been out for a while."

“Two system days. Operations took a bit.”

"Ah! Armaturnaya, such pleasant occurrences to have you in healthy shape."
*As he says this, Armaturnaya may feel a slight slowing of her heart beat, evidently not her own body's doing.

Her expression drops a bit as she goes paler, her lingering smile drooping a bit.

The Ghoul smirks. Her heart returns to normal again. His gaze lingers on her for a few moments before turning to face Nailz.*
"Gotten over your tail whoopin' Lacertilia?"

With a quiet wafting of steam from the sides of his mask, and a narrowing of the yellow lens visible within his black, glassy eye guards, he hefts his nailgun up, dropping it heavily on the table. He yanks back a bar along the top, and it slots the nails, as if cocking a gun.

It’s clear he didn’t like the joke.

With the jovial attitude in the room gone, Arma glances warily over, putting a gloved hand on the nailgun, as if to suggest it be put away.

Gauze snickers, taking another long draw from her cigarette before leaning her head in one of her hands, glancing over with a smirk.

"If you'd explain the details regarding each of the options, I'd be more inclined to oblige. I recognise that I may not look it, but I do intend to keep this body from being negatively affected if I can."

“Tour places you need to be familiar with for our operation now, and eat after, or eat now, and tour after. That’s all there is to it. You’ll do both.”

 

[Your Host.]

Markas hears the sound of movement as it stares out into nothing. It has no other purpose, and yet its presence here means it does.

And so it shambles off in the direction of sound, neither caring for or understanding the meaning of what it sees. For how others see it.

 

[Creeper326]

With a pointed look to the new arrivals, he nods.

“Sure.”

He turns, striding towards the high table where the other operators sit.


“Two system days. Operations took a bit.”

"Excellent."

Her expression drops a bit as she goes paler, her lingering smile drooping a bit.

"Just ensuring all appreciate the times our hearts beat. Somethin' to be thankful for."

With a quiet wafting of steam from the sides of his mask, and a narrowing of the yellow lens visible within his black, glassy eye guards, he hefts his nailgun up, dropping it heavily on the table. He yanks back a bar along the top, and it slots the nails, as if cocking a gun.

It’s clear he didn’t like the joke.

"It's alright big man, it ain't every day you face somethin' with an atomic bomb with a heart."
*The Ghoul scrutinizes the nailgun, rubbing his chin as he takes it in with every angle.*

With the jovial attitude in the room gone, Arma glances warily over, putting a gloved hand on the nailgun, as if to suggest it be put away.

Gauze snickers, taking another long draw from her cigarette before leaning her head in one of her hands, glancing over with a smirk.


“Tour places you need to be familiar with for our operation now, and eat after, or eat now, and tour after. That’s all there is to it. You’ll do both.”

"The reason being...? I get that you're eager to use us as expendable slave labour and all, I'd just like a few more reasons, please."
*The way he speaks makes it clear he isn't sincere about his request.*