Oh,
that kind of character...
Well, I've decided that since this is a mission based RtD, it makes sense to have intermission periods. Since the colony fleet has stopped by on an ice world, now would be a great time for the players to test their mettle, eh? For intermission periods, anyone who submitted a character can participate.
Before the mission starts, six infiltrators will be chosen, either selected by the players or by the Guild's officials (me).
Anyone who wants to join at the last moment can do so.
Port Newton Landing Pad, Northern Ridge, Askarian | 233d/3008AD
Askarian Ice Cliffs
Heavy Snow (Low visibility. Actions toward distant objects incur a penalty based on distance)
Freezing Wind (-1 to all actions when exposed)
The transport plane skids to a halt. Riding on a bed of plasma and insulated from the surrounding air friction, the plane blazes through the sky in minutes, travelling a quarter of the globe in little more than five minutes.
The vehicle comes to rest at a runway surrounded by meters of snowdrift. The surface is kept from snowing over by vented steam from the nearby installation, which is built mostly into the face of the ice sheet where it meets the great ocean.
A group of a little more than ten leaves the side bay doors wearing enviroment suits. The shuttle's pilot emerges late, wearing a thick brown jacket over his thinner, less protective model to protect against the cold. As the signallers turn off their beacons and head into the sunken entrance of the installation, the pilot converses with the local manager about customs checks, tolls, and launch fees. The rest of the group soon enters the installation, descending a great staircase down to the heart of the living area, warmed by a small fission reactor.You are here for a number of reasons. Firstly, the colony fleet needs to repair-and-rearm after a minor orbital skirmish which resulted in the recapture of a stolen civilian vessel from pirates. This ship might actually come in handy, provided that its former captain is willing to cooperate. This starship was originally headed to the SpaceInc megacity, so sending it forward on its merry way will arouse no suspicions.
Second, the Guild needs time to select infiltrators for the job and find if local contacts would be willing to help the Guild. You belong to the thirty or so people sent down via shuttle. Your job is to represent the guild and find anyone willing to help you in your operation. The captain of the vessel you just rescued may be willing to offer his services.
Port Newton Bar, Northern Ridge, Askarian | 233d/3008AD
Port Newton Bar
Medium Chatter (+1 to deception, -1 to intellect)
The bar is moderately occupied, with the occasional open seat or table and few people standing up. One table of 6 people seems to be having an argument over economic protectionism, which occasionally distracts the others in the bar from whatever they are doing, be it reading a book, eavesdropping on other people as part of some sinister plan, or contemplating the nature of existence.
The rest is fairly quiet. The sole bartender is casually wiping a glass as a sullen-looking man walks back toward the airlock to get his suit. A female traveller, most likely from the core worlds of the Arcturan Republic (quite a ways away), is at a table in the corner having a drink with a man wearing a thick, fluffy jacket despite the confortable temperature of the room. A group of merchants is consuming some cheap snacks that they probably brought from their shuttle while already discussing their next destination.
...
Port Newton is a trading post on the rim of the Askarian Ocean, close to the northern pole of the planet (hence the name of the region: North Ridge). There's not much here, although the same could be said for the majority of the bases on the rim. There is only one major population center on this world, but it is difficult to reach and even more dangerous to leave, being located directly in the eye of the Great Cyclone. This floating city, home to tens of thousands of isolated souls, is known as Tenochtitlan. Many of this world's natives were former citizens, having eagerly migrated to explore the world outside its glass domes and steel walls.
The port has all the basic services. A local bar and diner for hungry newcomers, a clinic and a renowned physician known for familiarity with almost a hundred different biological systems, a broker's office where goods are exchanged between parties seeking deals, and a cheap apartment complex and motel where most of the coastal fishers live. A long way down (typically scaled by elevator, although some like to rappel down the ice cliff for recreational purposes), there are the dockyards, the site of an exotic fishmarket and various tourist traps, including low-gravity speedboating and submersible tours. Here there is fierce competition between ports on the Ridge, who attract sales by cutting tariffs as much as is feasable. A local sherrif owns several motorboats for law-enforcement purposes, and the Ridge Guard is minutes away.
The local warehouse where cargo is stored doubles as a capricious marketplace, as the port doesn't really have any dedicated trade buildings. People who are looking for food supplies probably want to go down to the fish market, where fishermen sell their catch and merchants from space often sell novelties and exotic dishes to the locals, who don't care for the rest of the goods the merchants bring to the upper port. Down here the warehouse is much more spacious, with a full-fledged food processing plant and outside of it numerous stores that come and go. These stores are generally located inside puffed-up igloos built from emergency habitat kits.
...
The Guild party walks enters the bar. They are still in their atmo-suits, not intending to stay for too long unless absolutely necessary. The bartender looks up, partly gratified because mercenaries usually leave good tips, but also worried that he won't have enough tricks up his sleeve to impress the lot.
The atmo-suits are all mostly identical, save for the two robotic members of the party who have no need of such things. Most of the Guild members, despite being loyal to the Guild's cause and ideals, in reality have no idea who each other are. Despite the sense of brotherhood among mercenaries, there are so many hundreds of them that the various cliques and factions that form leave little room for memorizing anything more than the names and roles of the other members.
"Why good evening there, fellas! It's always evening here on the Ridge. If you want a drink, pick a color."He lays out several colored cards on the table with his right hand, jugging a pair of ice cubes with his left.
This may be a little more of a textwall than I remembered writing...
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Topic: 3008 AD: The Guild Chronicles - Guild Home Base - Theorycrafting! (Read 72145 times)