The Western Frontier: An Episodic, Schizotech Sci-Fi RP (Started)

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Onboard the Aurora, Precis continued her search for her missing wrench. As she went over the area of the generator with a sharp eye, she said with a pout. "Where on earth did I put that thing?" She hadn't used it for this fix-up, and it wasn't likely that she had left it behind on one of her many other fixes, so she couldn't think of what could have happened to it. Grumbling to herself as she contemplated this predicament, she said to herself. "I know I brought it with me after fixing their refrigerator..Man, that thing was a job all on its own. After that came the jammed door to the dining area. That one just needed a little bit of grease and a good old chisel to get the rust out. I had it then too. Hmm." She paced around the engine room impatiently. She didn't like not knowing where one of her tools was. It never occurred to her that she had dropped it on the way to the engine room.

Shoren walked into the intersection and immediately saw the cafe. Just as the boy had said, it was marked by a large, red neon sign depicting a vaguely humanoid figure that Shoren guessed was suppose to be the establishment's mascot. Below the "giant", the sign displayed the words "Red Giant Cafe". "Bingo" Shoren mumbled, and entered the cafe.

The place was small but cozy on the inside. Waitresses bustled back and forth between their tables, and Shoren could hear and smell the food cooking in the back. He approached the counter and ordered a basket of fried potato skins. As he waited, he noticed a short brunette girl at one of the window seats. She had a chainsaw sword, which looked a bit disproportionate against her small frame. No average Joe carries a weapon like that. Shoren thought. She must be here for the Blackhearts too. When his order arrived, Shoren payed for it and walked up to the girl. "Hey there. Are you here for the bounty hunters?" he asked kindly.

With a purse now containing a nicely enriched credit chip under the white cloak, Mechty stepped out of the small law office and resumed the trip to the Red Giant Café. The main corridor was more crowded now than it had been five minutes before. Mechty sighed under the sound-blocking helmet, which was translated into a disturbing buzzing through the voice modulator, drawing a few questioning glances from the people nearby.
Sighing again because of the unwanted attention, Mechty pushed forcefully out onto the center of the passage, turned, and strode in the direction of the recruitment point, brushing aside anyone who would not move out of the way in time. A kid stood in the way. It was the same one from before. It looked like a boy, but Mechty couldn't be sure, and didn't particularly care.
Quickly hooking a foot behind the diminutive kid's knee and pulling it in, the child fell over backwards, out of the way with a small yelp.
The obstacle sufficently dealt with, the journey was resumed, and shortly ended a few meters later with the open door of the destination. There were a few patrons to be seen, but it wasn't as busy as expected. A man, looking the typical "tough guy" look in a black leather coat, seemed to be bugging some brown haired girl over by a window. Mechty decided to ignore them as irrelevant, and took a seat a few tables away, pulling a book out from under the shroud. Now to wait for people heading into the conference room at the back.

After several wrong right turns and a stubborn refusal to ask for directions, Lukaas eventually found his way to the Red Giant. It was a decent enough of a café. They can serve a decent amount of patrons. It could almost be a good place to take the family after weekly worship, if you wanted to deal with the crowds.

After being ushered to a table, Lukaas took off his hat & jacket and placed it on the back off his chair, revealing a sawn off shotgun in a shoulder holster. After a brief glance at the menu, he ordered a Bovinon Burger with a glass of milk, likely of the Bovinon variety.

With a while until the meeting in one of the back confrence rooms, Lukaas waited for his meal and got lost in memories of old. His childhood of leisure, job as a ranch hand protecting the cattle, his father's death leaving a huge inheritance for both him and his twin, his near instant departure of his home world to become a hunter...

With the arrival of the meal, killing his train of thought, Lukaas took his gloves off, showing off pairs of hands covered in burn scars, and began to eat while occasionally stealing a peak at the orange tin can in the booth near him.

A blue haired older man approached her and asked about the bounty hunters. He didn't mention the name of the group though, nor his own name. He may be another one looking for a job, but that meant he was competition until she had been hired. If that was the case.

She turned away from him and looked out the window. It wasn't that clean, but she could still easily see the street outside. Hopefully the leaders of the blackhearts would arrive soon.

"What's it to you?" She asked him in a sharp and pretty unfriendly tone.

It may come back to bite her in the ass, especially if he already was hired by the blackhearts, but meh, that was a problem she would have to deal wit then. He hadn't introduced himself either, so she didn't feel any reason to repay his fake kind tone.

After following Rodrigo's directions for about five or ten minutes, she couldn't tell exactly, being a crowd makes you lose track of time, Kristina finally stood outside the Red Giant cafe. Despite its apparent age, the establishment still held up well, and attracted a steady flow of customers. Kristina entered the cafe, and saw that several others had entered before her.

First there was a older gentlemen with blue coloured hair, who seemed to be arguing with a teenage girl with brown hair. Finally, there was a..." Kristina stopped and stared at the person wearing some orange environmental armour, and a visor that completely obscured their face, you couldn't even tell what gender it was. Shaking off the slightly disturbed look on her face, Kristina made her way to a table.

Kristina sat down at a booth, and lowered the hood on her coat. She then removed her crossbow, propping it up next to her on the seat. Browsing the menu with some nonchalant interested, she settled on a slice of pie, and a coffee to go with it. Whilst waiting she examined her fellow patrons without them noticing, deciding on whether or not they were friend or foe.

Finally the pie soon arrived, the coffee sat next to it. Kristina then slowly began to eat the pie, whilst leafing through her bounty journal once more. Thus began the wait for the bounty hunter meeting.

Shoren smiled at the girls snarky tone. "Just trying to make friendly conversation." he said as another women with a crossbow walked past him. The girl before him clearly didn't want him around, and Shoren thought she was being rather rude about it. He decided that he would respond by bothering her until she dropped the attitude. Shoren popped a potato skin into his mouth before speaking. "Here's a good ice breaker: where did you get that sword? I don't see many of those around."

Kier'Ran continued to sit in the conference room, waiting for anyone else to enter. By the increased chatter and foot traffic he heard on his side, there was at least half a dozen people to come into the cafe in the last half hour. Why they hadn't come into the conference room yet he didn't know, since few stations he had been to had this much of an influx in the time frame. He didn't move from his seat, but he did readjust himself in the chair.

He was growing bored of sitting in the darkened room, if the Blackhearts hadn't arrived within the next two hours, he was going to cut his losses and find some kind of work here on the station. Get on the first ship he could and find some nice little planet to settle down on, maybe, preferably one with a low population or pre-industrial age, these floating heaps of slag, sweat, and people irritated him too much. His augmentations were infinitely useful, but were a double-edged blade in cities, breathing recycled air.

Vane pushed open the door of the Cafe. The place was small, a typical port-side cafe for petty business men. Except this place wasn't, it seemed to be filled with individuals carrying weapons. Vane saw that a some of them had the athletic air of individuals who had danced with blades many times. Very interesting he thought to himself, some of the old blood lust stirring in him, the desire to test his skills.

And then there was that creature that looked like a man but was covered in an orange suit.

Vane's head turned to two individuals who were making a bit of a scene bickering.Some man of means and his concubine? No, that girl was fully versed in the art of death he mused.

And then his head turned to man with scarred hands snacking on a hearty meal. Those scars weren't like Vane's, but he still felt an odd quite sense of kinship with that man, and he did seem to be enjoying a meal.

Vane's stomach grumbled louder then bawling of a hungry biovark from the great ranches of Diomosis.

Vane sauntered over to the feasting man and spoke using the full multitude of vocal ranges to state his nature. he knew never to disturb a man while eating, even worse a potential master but his hunger was an even great slave driver.
"I am Vane O'Sufi" he spoke in a normal accent subtly taking on the accents of the local individuals around.
"I would like to sell myself to you for short period of time" he continued his voicing start to sound more like some great man of history, full of gravitas
"I can be a solider" his voice rapidly switching to that of brutal warrior, barbaric and fearsome in the implications of a life feed by the skill of the blade
"Even a poet or a lover" his voice switching to that of the high concubine princess of Neocathpon

Vane was so hungry...

Mechty was enjoying watching the more recent patrons of the Red Giant. A snicker was allowed for the brown-haired girl's responce to mister tough guy, and a slight cringe for his continued attempts at winning her over. It was starting to get hot in the armour, so with the press of a button on the left forearm of the suit, some coolant was circulated. Mechty sunk back into the chair with a slight hiss, and turned to observe the other newcomers. One, a human female with grey hair and a crossbow, was eating a pie and reading from a journal. I'll have to get a look through that little book sometime, Mechty thought. Possibly an interesting person. Not sure about that red coat though. Looked sturdy enough.
And then, to the most recent patron. It seemed to be trying to sell... himself... to another man, who had been busy gobbling up a decently-sized burger. The newcomer seemed a bit desperate, perhaps for company, or a job. It was unimportant which. Mechty withdrew the battered copy of Haggard's Haunters: First Forever into the voluminous folds of the cloak, rose from the chair, and moved to a table a few meters over, further from the guy trying to sell himself. Not sure that is the type to get involved with in this, might try to sell me out for a few extra credits...

After the docking procedure was complete, Xion took some time to stretch his legs properly for the first time in a while, after being cooped up in the ship for so long. He withdraw his revolver from the holster on the right side of his hip, he began twirling in on his finger before mock pointing it at a nearby lamp post. He saw the robot security squad on the street corner, covertly surveying their surroundings. Xion reminded himself where he was, and that if he took the wrong step, he could end up dead, regardless of how many he could take down with him.

Sighing at the stifling environment, he took one last look at the chamber of his revolver, before snapping it back together and replacing it in it's holster in one fluid motion. He adjusted his katana so that it was clearly visible as it stuck out from beneath his white duster. He had only been to Tanra Station once before, so he knew how strict the security around the place was, but nevertheless he would swiftly cut down any imputent street thugs that tried to heckle him.

After a brief wander around the space station, Xion took out a small bussiness card that had the Blackheart name on it, he turned it over and it read "Red Giant Cafe", along with today's date, and a time that was 30 minutes from now. Not knowing how far away the place would be, he began to make haste towards it regardless, asking a nearby local who, whilst initially intimidated by his sword and red hair, eventually told him of the street name whilst gesturing in the general direction. It was best not to be late for his new employer, even though Xion normally worked freelance, he had come to be in need of money most recently, due to oweing a large amount of credits to a particuarly nasty drug cartel back on Helios Prime.

He came across the street that the old man had told him, and along this street he found the cafe. It wasn't hard, the red neon lights that spelled "RED GIANT" were somewhat glaring.
Xion entered the cafe, and was instantly greeted by the smell of cigarette smoke, a displeasing smell that reminded him of the fires of deforestation back on his homeworld.
The patrons of the cafe were certainly a varied bunch, with a figure encased completely in an orange environmental suit, sat in a chair reading a book. Close to this figure were what he assumed were a bickering couple, before he heard the man's feeble attempt at breaking the ice to the girl. She was what looked like a teenager, although Xion had learnt the hard way not to rely on what he thought a girl's age was. The man meanwhile had an odd shade of blue hair that reminded him of his own mutation, along with what appeared to be a shotgun, and a katana, both being worn on his back.

Pfff, poser. He probably is just as skilled with that sword, as he is at talking to that girl

Ignoring the scene before him for now, he recalled that the card read to meet in the conference room. He asked a nearby waiter where such a room was, and he was directed to the back of the cafe. Xion made his way into the room, where he saw a man with a cybernetic left arm sitting at the large table.

"I take it you are here for the Blackhearts as well?"

Kier'Ran heard the door opening and the the scent wafted in, a man, his footsteps betraying him as light, both on his feet and in weight. A decent height, but nothing extraordinary. The slight clink of leather and metal told him that the man had either a gun or weapon of sorts on his hip.

"I take it you are here for the Blackhearts as well?"

"Yes,"He sniffed once at the air, to process his scent,"You have the scent of the tropics, pup."

Kristina barely paid much attention to the other patrons of the cafe, more focused on her pie; which she found to be rather tasty. The only other person that showed a lack of interest in the goings on, was the mysterious stranger who wore an orange environment suit. She decided to give the person a friendly, but nervous wave, unsure of its reaction.

Some time had passed, finally finishing her pie, and downed her coffee in one fell swoop. She sat back in the booth for a moment, giving a light burp, and a joyful groan. Kristina then noticed another new arrival. The man was wear a long white coat, which appeared to be scaly in appearance. He carried a revolver, and a katana, which he kept openly shown. It was then that he walked up to the counter, and asked for the location of a conference room. Kristina noticed that he carried the same Blackheart business card that she carried.

"Must be another potential recruit. Come to think of it, all of these people must be here for the same reason. This has certainly gotten interesting. Can't wait to see what happens. Better follow him to this conference room first." Kristina quietly thought to herself, as she strapped her crossbow back on to the sheathe on her back. After paying for the food, she followed the man into the conference room, pulling up her hood beforehand.

Without the two men already there noticing, she quietly took up a chair round the table.

"Well then, we certainly have a mixed bunch today." Kristina remarked, alerting the two men towards her direction.

"Well then, we certainly have a mixed bunch today."

"You have a light step, for someone so large,"He said without turning around,"But there's only so much you can mask,there's still many things you've left to learn"He sniffed the air again,"You're both young, so many young hunters anymore."

He reached up with his cybernetic arm and scratched at the first pair of dots on his temple. His first bounty he'd brought back alive, a simple bandit hiding out in a cave who went out to rob merchants laden down with rare metals.

Finally, some of the other customers at the Red Giant Café were moving into the conference room, as Mechty had been waiting for them to. Mechty had nodded inperceptably at the woman who was polite enough to wave, but wasn't sure f she had noticed the ever so slight acknowledgment. No matter. Time to move over to the conference room now that it had other recruits waiting inside. Getting up from the slightly creaky chair, Mee-Dee set a course for the back room.
Upon entering, the first thig to be noticed was the recruit that had not been seen yet. Mechty had no idea how long the... man had been sitting in here. He had interesting facial markings, perhaps a kill tally. Under the mask, Mechty pursed unseen lips as a funny, yet somewhat unwelcome thought came to mind. Having stood long enough, it was time to acquire another chair. And acquired it was, a nice model than the basic stuff in the café main room.

The blue haired man was apparently stubborn, since he hadn't left her alone yet.

"Heh, no, it's not a good question." She answered him, keeping up her sharp tone, which she used most of the time. Meine was trying to give him the worst of it now though. It was funny how he thought that she would answer this question, which was even more personal than the first one. She didn't like strangers asking her questions.

Meine also noticed that more and more people arrived as she was sitting there. Someone mentioned the conference room, which made her remember that her information had told her to go there. She got up from the table and was about to go to the conference room, but remembered the man who had asked about her sword.

"I have a good question for you." She said and looked him in the eyes. "How fast do you think I can cut someone in half with a sword like this?"

Meine pointed at the sword on her back and smiled the smile of an innocent girl.

Half way through his burger, a tall lanky bard who called himself Vane O'Sufi came up to him with the intent to sell his talents for Lukaas' amusement. As Vane went through his list of impressive voices, the spider web of scars on the stranger's head reminded himself of his own deformity which caused him, in a mixture of pride and embarrassment, to hide his hands under the table to put his gloves back on.

"Sorry, Brother, but your commodities don't interest me. However, I bet those two over there would love to hear a sonnet."

Noticing that several people were heading towards the conference room, Lukaas took that as a clue that the meeting was about to start soon. Leaving half a burger on the table and grabbing his coat & hat, Lukaas said his good byes to the stranger and followed the crowd to the back room with his axe in hand.

Shoren chuckled at the girl. She was an adorable little bitch, but still a bitch. "Oh, I'm sure in no time at all." he said, examining her sword. It was certainly a deadly weapon, if you knew how to use it to its full potential. "What would take considerably longer, though, is drawing it. Now I'm no quickdraw-" Shoren quickly reached into his jacket and drew his revolver, pulling the hammer back as he did so, and pointed it at the girl's throat. "but I'm pretty sure I could pump about 4 or 5 rounds into your bitch ass before that thing even comes close to me." Shoren said all this with a big grin that probably drove the girl mad. He had no intention of actually killing her, of course, just showing her not to throw out needless threats. Keeping the gun pointed at her jugular, he withdrew the Blackheart flier from his pocket. "It would appear" he said "that we are suppose to meet in the conference room in the back." He looked back at the girl and gestured towards the door. "After you."

"Oh, you could, couldn't you?"

She hadn't moved much, just seen him react like she figured he would. She was still looking him in the eyes.

She wouldn't get along with him. He was stubborn, rude and had threathened her without much reason after she had asked what was a good question in her opinion. Meine would have preferred not using it, but as long as she reappeared quick enough, no one should have that much of a problem with it.

"I'm sure this won't be the first time you're after me." She said, turned her cloaking on and simply left him there. She entered the conference room to find more people there. Meine leaned herself against a wall and turned her cloaking off again.

Either a philistine or another poor-man, though not an unpolite one mused Vane as the man walked off. Vane was about to snatch the man's burger when he saw the commotion that the blue haired man was causing.

The Kraken dictates the removal of disorder

Vane drew his sword and pointed it towards the blue haired man who was arguing with the teenage girl.

"You there, O' hand of the agent of Discord," he hummed, his voice take on the tone of a high priest, regal and authoritarian, as he slowly stalked forward. His body assumed the position of the First stance, that of the quick strike, his armor buzzing it's electronic blue in an angry manner, communicating that he was prepared to commit death strikes.

A dreamy smile slowly swam across Vane's face.

And then the girl disappered

Well, isn't that a fancy trick. Shoren thought to himself as he returned his revolver to it's holster. Then he noticed the man with the sword and augmented voice talking to him. "No offence man, but I got stuff to do." he said to him without turning around. "Have a good one." He knew he probably came off as a bit of a dick with that comment, but he was hardly in the mood for a fight. Ignoring the stares he was getting from the other patrons, he walked into the conference room, and immediately regretted it. First off, the girl was there. Shoren had hoped that she had just left the cafe, but apparently she was indeed here for the Blackhearts. Secondly, the fellow in the environment suit was there, the same one who had run that kid into the wall earlier. Although Shoren had nothing against the other people in attendance, he was starting to question the wisdom in coming to the meeting. The pay better be good if I'm working with these assholes. He sat himself down near the head of the table to wait for the recruiter.

"You have the scent of the tropics, pup."

For a second, such an assertion threw Xion, as the man in front of him came fully in to view he knew the same, if not more, about the man than he knew about Xion.

"...Indeed, I do hail from such a place, although it has been a long time since I first ventured forth from there"

He studied the man before him, his shaggy black hair sat like a mane against his pale skinned neck, the skin of his face being more apparently worn, as many wrinkles and marks showed a life of exposure. The man's eyes were piercing, but as he looked deeper he saw behind their black viel that they showed so much, yet revealed nothing.
There were a series of small dotted scars that adorned the left side of the man's face. Were they accidental? No. They reminded Xion of a ritual of his tribe, each time one of their warriors killed a member of a rival tribe, they were etched with ink, their number of dots tallying their amount of kills.
Xion's eyes drifted to the man's left arm, it was scratched and dented in several places, suggesting significant field use, yet some parts were evidently newer than others, meaning recent replacements/additions.

All of this was processed by Xion in just under a second.

"And you have the look of a weathered old dog, no offense"

"Well then, we certainly have a mixed bunch today."

He turned his body to meet the new voice that had arrived, his eyes darting, he saw that she was a woman of no more than 30, and that her eyes were cat-like slits like his, meaning she had been augmented.

More figures began to enter the room, including the figure in the enviro suit from before, as well as a man in a cowboy hat, brandishing a hand axe.

"I must say I do agree..." said Xion as a figure de-cloaked itself on the far wall to his left. He was not surprised, he had seen the air ripple as she had came in.

Vane silently sheathed his great sword, disappointment rippling across his face. The blue on his robes became more pacific, calming down to regulated contractionsA disappearing girl, how queer, however she managed to cause discord to be averted thus freeing him of the obligation to intervene he contemplated before walking back to the pluck up the remains of the burned hands man's meal.

Pausing for a second he then walked towards the place where all those people with martial skills had gone into. Vane knew those who made a career out of bloody hands and as such he knew that he could possibly offer his service and get paid. Returning home was imperative so any combat contract he could barter out that best serviced that would be his desire.

Entering the room he turned and looked seeing a motley assembly of individuals. The burger man was there, the discordant blue man, the orange thing, the invisible lady. And there was an old veteran, someone who seemed to be forged in the fires of violence, growling at a young man.

"This looks like a war band" he announced, his voice becoming a bass robotic sound. "And I am a Sufian, proud sword slaves, willing to sell myself to however can pay" his eyes focusing on the old veteran.

Ignoring the commotion behind him, managed to find a seat opposite the Orange Tin Can and placed his axe in his lap. While everyone chatted about trivial bull-shit, Lukaas began his list of potential hires once he gets a new ship and enough credits to fund his adventures.

The blue hair fuck is going to be impossible to order around. The lady with the cloak seems to be unable to get along well without motivation. Mr. Robotic arm is a wildcard as of now. Red Cloak seems capable enough. Scar head over here will be worthless unless we join an acting troupe ...

And I am a Sufian, proud sword slaves, willing to sell myself to whoever can pay"

A Sufian, eh? I could hire him cheaply. Might have to make it seem like a noble cause. And that leaves the man in the enviro-suit. What do I make of it?

After a brief internal dialog, he decided to initiate conversation at the risk of no reply.

"Excuse me, wouldn't you be a little bit more comfortable without the Environmental suit? I believe that Tantra Station has breathable air. Unless *gasp* you have a medical condition! If that's it, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

I think that went well.

"And you have the look of a weathered old dog, no offense"

Kier'Ran gave a half-chuckle and what passed for a smile back in Rouneer, before it disappeared,"I am an old dog, but I can still run with the pack as well as I always have."

The man in front of him carried himself with an arrogant air, though it was probably warranted, otherwise he wouldn't still be alive. His eyes betrayed him however, the way the light was repelled by them, almost as if he craved any fight, even if happened to be with the pale yellow that flooded the room. A quick look told him everything he needed to know for the moment, calloused fingertips, an almost pristine handle on the revolver at his belt, which he afforded a slight tightening of the eyes before moving on, the hilt of his sword however, showed wear and tear. His coat was made of something that reminded him of something from long ago, but the fact that he wore it told him that it was special to the man, few wore something that ostentatious for formal events, much less a recruitment meeting. His piercings and tattoos obviously meant something to him, considering what was represented, he guessed he had once been some kind of slave before becoming a bounty hunter.

His eyes roved the rest of the room as others entered. The woman that thought herself quiet had the expression of a predator, a hunter in more than a single meaning. A man in a peculiar hat and duster holding a combat axe entered and brought with him the underlying scent of earth and sweat, a farmer of sorts, he decided. An almost imperceptible distortion in the air behind the Farmer and the unmistakeable smell of a heavily augmented being made him ready himself in his seat for a moment before the cloaking mechanism was turned off and he allowed himself to relax after seeing the child with the chainsword strapped to her back, not particularly dangerous, but she was young yet. Another Farmer entered, this one with blue hair, an oddity, but nothing more than he'd seen countless times before. Both the least and most intriguing member of the group appeared to be in an enviro-suit. Kier'Ran could barely detect a scent other than the suit, but caught a whiff of heat, ash maybe, he wasn't sure. Whoever was in that suit had a reason.

The final one to join the group was a giant of a man, but the way he held himself implied he struck the balance between grace and efficiency. He wore little more than a white robe and the hilt of a greatsword stuck above his head, emblazoned with an octopus of sorts. His robes were intriguing, but didn't appeal to him beyond that. His hand, however, was tattooed with roughly the same design as on his sword, and the rings he felt were some kind of marking.

"And I am a Sufian, proud sword slaves, willing to sell myself to however can pay"

He spoke with roughly the same underlying pattern as one he had heard on the other side of the door in the cafe. So he had some kind of voice augmentation. He saw the man looking at him and looked him back, eyes roaming over him, sizing him up. There wasn't much he could say, so he kept quiet.

"Excuse me, wouldn't you be a little bit more comfortable without the Environmental suit? I believe that Tantra Station has breathable air. Unless-" The be-hatted man gasped, seemingly for theatrical or humourous effect, "-you have a medical condition! If that's it, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to offend."
Mechty swivelled the comfortable chair around to face the man with grey eyes and questionable fashion sense. Well, this isn't Primcise anymore, so I guess I can't really judge people on what they wear, xe[1] thought. Mechty considered replying, and while tempted to do so, could not bring xerself to consider it important enough, and merely gave a shake of the head, a second's pause, and then a nod. Xe raised a gauntlet, palm outwards, in what xe hoped was a friendly, peaceful gesture of polite thanks. If not, it didn't really matter. Mechty regarded the man for a moment more, and then extended the gauntlet to shake. Rot the other people in the room, at least this one had the social graces to be sociable to their betters.

[1] I'm gonna go with JokerboyJordan's suggestion for the pronouns, make this easier on myself and others >.>

Reaching out his own gloved hand to shake the stubbornly silent owner of the gauntlet in front of him, Lukaas decided that the shakes and nods of the head was a invitation to speak some more.

"You know, talking is overrated if you ask me. Everyone else is just in a dick measuring contest, showing off all their cool toys. You and I, however, get each other. We don't need to explain why we're the best. Our personalities just oozes competences. I'm Lukaas, Lukaas Kammeal. It is a pleasure to meet you."

A few hours later, Lukaas will finally come to terms with the fact that he rambles when meeting new people.

"You know, talking is overrated if you ask me. Everyone else is just in a dick measuring contest, showing off all their cool toys. You and I, however, get each other. We don't need to explain why we're the best. Our personalities just oozes competences. I'm Lukaas, Lukaas Kammeal. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Kier'Ran found what the farmer said humorous, but didn't allow it to show on his face. A few of the more experienced members might see a certain gleam to his eyes for a moment, but that was it. If this was the bulk of the other recruits, he felt he may have a troubling time with many of them. Too few looked older than their third summer, and besides himself and the man with the sword and pulsating blue robe, he didn't see any who had seen their fourth. He still counted by Rouneer's seasons, he thought. Even after all these years, he was still a prisoner in that respect and a few others. That he smiled at, after he let his mind wander and his nose rest, the mingling of new scents beginning to overcome him.

He stood and stretched and began scratching the eighth pair of dots on his cheek. A murderer, he'd killed at least a dozen they'd known about, on that mining station. He'd found him on a nearby moon, living a normal life, meaning he'd found another three victims before Kier'Ran had reached him. He shook his head, that pair he almost hadn't had put on, the guy had died almost as soon as he was handed over. For a mining company, they'd had a pretty strict form of justice, they'd blown him out the adjacent airlock as soon as the Maned man had reentered his own.

Shoren snickered at one of the other's comments. Dick measuring contest. That's funny. And a pretty good summary of their discussion, too With his initial disappointment fading, Shoren examined the others in the room. The guy who had been picking a fight outside was there, still talking like he was reading out of a poetry book. The man with the red hair caught his eye for a moment; he clearly knew what he was doing, even if he was a bit overconfident. And then there was the old man. Looking at him, Shoren couldn't help but feel like he had seen him before. The idea of a disappearing women on a starship above a ruined city came to mind, but he couldn't extrapolate it's origin. Regardless, the man's skill was not in question. His face was covered in marks, marks that Shoren guested symbolized kills. The look in his eyes was the look of someone who had seen plenty, and was able to know everything about someone with a single glance. The man's experience would be invaluable, both on and off the battlefield; Shoren was sure of that.

"I am a Sufian, proud sword slaves, willing to sell myself to however can pay"

Hmmm, a strange creature. I wonder, if I paid him, would he kill everyone else in the room? That sword is certainly interesting, I'll have to watch him, he could prove difficult

"You know, talking is overrated if you ask me. Everyone else is just in a dick measuring contest, showing off all their cool toys."

For someone who thinks talking is overrated, you sure seem to like doing a lot of it

Xion looked over at the man calling himself Lukaas, he seemed to be uncomfortable, trying to illicit some more of reply from the mysteriously silent figure in the suit.

Heh, I wonder if there's a luscious lady in there, just dying to get out

He heard a snicker from the far side of the room. Xion looked to find the man with blue hair smugly sat in a chair against the table. He saw the man examining the others in the room, his eye's catching Xion's own for a split second. He looked like an asshole, and Xion liked to punch assholes in the face, especially those that sit observing everyone like they're in a zoo, or watching dinner theatre.

"What are you snickering at blue-hair? You never heard someone say the word dick before?"

"You know, talking is overrated if you ask me. Everyone else is just in a dick measuring contest, showing off all their cool toys. You and I, however, get each other. We don't need to explain why we're the best. Our personalities just oozes competences. I'm Lukaas, Lukaas Kammeal. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Mechty merely nodded slightly in response, while thinking to xerself slowly ""... just... wow. I have all the competences. All of them. Mechy withdrew xer hand and drew it back in under the white cloak, before considering for a second, and then bringing forth the Haggard's Haunters book from earlier, opening the cover page, and showing the name of the owner written within. Property of: Mechty Dorfloum. That should do for an introduction to this "Lukaas Kammeal".

"You know, talking is overrated if you ask me. Everyone else is just in a dick measuring contest, showing off all their cool toys. You and I, however, get each other. We don't need to explain why we're the best. Our personalities just oozes competences. I'm Lukaas, Lukaas Kammeal. It is a pleasure to meet you." Kristina had to chuckle at that remark. She quietly listened to the other conversation that transpired here, making notes on them all. It was then that she decided to speak up on the matter.

"Well, as far as I'm aware, I haven't even made the slightest notion of being the best Lukass. Sure, I have a crossbow, but that hardly qualifies as me being 'the best'. This is just the weapon I have had the most experience with, since it is the weapon I grew up around. Anyway, whilst we are waiting for our employers to show up, how about we have a little 'Getting to know you' session. That way, we can all compare our methods of work." Kristina then adjusted her seating position ever so slightly.

"For starters, how about we all talk about what made us become bounty hunters in the first place."

"What are you snickering at blue-hair? You never heard someone say the word dick before?"
You got to be kidding me. Shoren thought as he turned his chair to face the offender. Is anybody on this station not a self-absorbed prick? "How about you mind your own business, punk." he said. Shoren briefly considered just leaving, but then remembered how desperate he was for employment. He would simply have to put up with these people until he could afford to work alone again.
"For starters, how about we all talk about what made us become bounty hunters in the first place."
Shoren couldn't help but overhear the women with the crossbow. "See, that's how you make friends." he pointed out to the red haired man, then turned to face the speaker. "Sounds like a plan to me." he said with a smile. "Who's first."

Vane has been met with heavy silence, the dot marked man he had originally been speaking to him had diverted his attention to the squabbles of the other children. Vane sighed and folded his arms behind his back as he moved towards a seat at the table, sitting at a polite distance from the others. Humming a mantra under his breath, he looked at the others.

Robot arm looked tough, harsh perhaps grizzled. That was bad, if he wasn't the leader of the operation he was probably skint. Blue hair continued to perturb the others, seeming to make it an religious obligation to put a blade between his neck. He was speaking to another woman, probably to get into her pants.

Stopping his hymn he turned once more to the robotic armed veteran and spoke calmly with a more natural tone "Could you please tell me why there seems to be such an assembly of diverse individuals? As in what are you here for? And who is your paymaster?"

Vane could smell there was a job here. And most of the people here looked like the baser elements of the Rook nobility, men of bloody means but lacking in any sense of desire for social harmony.

"For starters, how about we all talk about what made us become bounty hunters in the first place."
"Who's first."

Kier'Ran continued to scratch at the eighth marking. The girl had made a possibly fatal mistake. Asking why everyone became a hunter, their strengths, their limits, everything someone needed to know to eliminate their competition. Judging from her physique,and what she'd said about the weapon at her belt, he'd say that she relied on that crossbow more than was healthy. She was young, but was this whole ploy to actually know the others, or a way to get rid of possible obstacles if there was only a few limited spots? And the other, voicing his support so readily, these were either very silly children, or a dangerous pair.

He gave them the benefit of the doubt and opted for the former, since neither showed any tell of anything in particular. They were simply young, and naive enough to still think that there was more than professional respect shared between bounty hunters.

"Could you please tell me why there seems to be such an assembly of diverse individuals? As in what are you here for? And who is your paymaster?"

And then there was the singing man with the sword and robes, who had begun humming something and then stopped to ask a plethora of questions, most of which he didn't have the answers to. But he felt that the man would continue to badger him unless he spoke now.

"You got the form, otherwise you wouldn't be here, so you should know exactly what the purpose of this meeting is, and I'm here for the same as you. As for who my employer is, that changes from week to week, month to month, and year to year, I currently have none."

He turned to the two birds that continued to bother him,and, considering the looks on the rest of the table, the group at large,"Figure out what you want from each other, but don't come in here, ask what everone's limits are, and then walk out after you find out what you want. I'm having trouble differentiating your individual scents the two of you are putting out so many pheromones. So get it over with and sit tight, the Blackhearts will be here soon, or not at all, we'll find out much quicker if we sit quietly and wait then if we get distracted by telling each other our life's story."

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