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+---- Thread: Brotherhood Bar-Talks (/showthread.php?tid=3191)
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Gentle - 01-17-2008
Gentle approached the bar door with a fair amount of curiosity. Many months had passed since his encounter with the Hermano called Ares. At that time Gentle was almost classed as a traitor to the Corsair cause. In his heart Gentle had always held the interests of the pirates of Crete in his best interest but had many times been shunned for his broad spectrum of beleifs. Much had changed in the heart of Gentle since that time. He knew now there could be no reconcilliation between the warring pirate factions despite his best intentions. Gentle could not hope to heal wounds that had widened and festered for so long.
news that the SCRA were at war with the corsairs of Crete had reached Gentle through channels that had remained open to him during his exile. His decision to pull together the scattered remnants of the Omega Pirate Guild had come easily. After a brief discussion with Montoya who had been both a critic and an admirer Gentle made the calls to the relevant people to begin the resurection of the OPG.
It was time to face his people once more and end his exile on the fringes of Piracy. Stepping through the bar door he noticed many familiar faces and many of those seemed unsure if they should reach for sidearms or pull up a chair.
"Hola hermanos" Gentle quietly intoned. Gentle reached behind the door and manifested a crate of his favourite sirius60 whisky. The 60% strength whisky had been a reconcilliator for gentle for a long time and his hope was that his Hermanos would feel the same way.
"Any of you that would share a drink with me will find me in the booth at the back. Know that I am here as your brother in arms. never again will I allow a division to form between any of us. Should it take me the rest of my natural life I will assist you all in returning the Corsair people to harmony and peace. Please forgive me"
Gentle sat the crate of whisky upon the bar and took a bottle for himself to the darkened booth.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Zelot - 01-18-2008
Miguel saw Gentle walk in, a sight he had not had in a long time. Much had happened to Miguel in that time. He had been just a pup, fresh in The Brotherhood, when Gentle had last been in the bar. Miguel thought back to the times he had flown with Gentle and his OPG boys...They were good times. Miguel thought about going over to Gentles table, but he was not in a mood to celebrate. Earlier that day, Miguel had, what might become a defining moment in his life, He opened fire on a man he had never had anything but respect for. He had always looked up to Elder Costello, and today....today he had attempted to kill Joe. Miguel sat there, drinking himself into hell, for thats where he belonged. How could he have done it, had his life, all those deaths made him imune to feelings? What would be next, if he could fire on Costello, could he even know who he was. Sephardi couldnt even think about getting back into the cockpit. He thought about the message he had sent from Cadiz, he had reveled in Costello's defeat, what kind of man had he become, to revel in another corsair's retreat, and more than that, Costello's. Miguel countinued to drink, try as he might, he could not feel anything, it was like his heart had become cold. Miguel, sat there, alone, not knowing what would become of him, how he could countine.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Lucend - 01-18-2008
Juan walked in the Boozer's Lounge just as Gentle had broken out the case of alcohol.
"Hermano! I heard rumors of your return, but couldn't take them for face value until I came here and saw with my own eyes. Whiskey I take it?" Lucendez eyed the bottles, and with a gesture from Gentle, Juan poured himself a drink and passed the glass under his nose.
"Hmm, wonderful stuff. So, have you decided who exactly you're going to be striking against first? I can understand if that's top secret OPG business and all, but don't tell me you haven't given it some thought. I've personally got to get out and bash some Nomads. I've been hold up in Crete, need to get out and make sure I can still shoot straight! Heh." He threw back the last of the whiskey in his glass and grimaced.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Laowai - 01-18-2008
From his usual dark barely lit corner, Ben Laowai surveyed the growing soir?e around the returned exile with an expressionless face. He had encountered some of these OPG pilots in the skies of Gamma. He knew of them, by reputation and by overhearing small pieces of conversation in the bar. But as a self imposed exile himself, and a habitual loner, he didn't really know much at all. His natural distrust of the factionalism among corsairs, and, more to the point, his natural distrust of everyone, told him to hold his opinions until some other time.
A bottle appeared in front of him, opened already. He chuckled, he really did come here too often. The Barman, by now a practiced reader of Laowai's moods, which were not usually good, had deposited the bottle of Baijiu without needing an invitation. The black aura that seemed to radiate from Laowai's corner table had been invitation enough.
"the new ship?" he asked.
Ben nodded, "yes, the blasted new ship"
Barely a week after piecing the remains of his Titan together the Xibanyu Nuren, his cruiser, his father's cruiser, that he had taken years to assemble, was sitting now in the same maintenance bay. The Bounty Hunter Gunboats, three of them, had given it a severe pasting, it's hull, a swiss cheese like sculpture of hull breaches, scorch marks and impact fractures, had been unable to take the strain and he and his crew had ejected. However, some of the young crewmembers, Green Corsair's that Laowai had employed from the slums outside town, had not made it.
Life support had been non existent, and when, some hours later, a salvage craft had returned to take the battered Nuren into dock, they had found their bodies, frozen and lifeless, floating throughout the ship.
Soon after landing on Crete. Ben had taken the bodies of the men and woman to the morgue, and, one by one, he had visited the families of each one. Every family on Crete knew the risks involved when their sons, brothers, fathers, sisters and mothers set foot in a spacecraft. They were raised with the stories of Corsair valour in space, told from birth, of their legacy as the terror's of the stars. Families knew, that sometimes, people just didn't come home. Life had never been easy on Crete, loss, was an everyday part of it.
But the reality was always something else, always something personal and no reaction was the same. This had been especially hard, these young men and woman had been on crew for a week.
"Bounty Hunters" the barman said, shaking his head and sneering "wretched filth".
Ben nodded, swigging the baijiu. He was in no mood for conversation, the barman, sensing this, returned to his work.
The night before, unable to sleep. Ben had taken his Titan out alone. He had headed to the Omicron Theta jumphole, knowing full well that he would find a Bounty Hunter patrol there. Sure enough, he did and a furious dogfight had ensued. One by one, he destroyed the bounty hunter fighters, his rage, channeled into a bizarre calm. He had downed two fighters rapidly, tractoring the pilots into his hold "you men are all going to die here tonight" he had said on the open comm.
An hour later, he had all eight bounty hunter's in his hold. He could hear them calling out to him through the internal comm system,
"we can pay you....." not everyone is a whore that can be bought as you are....he thought to himself, he brought the ship to a halt, floating a few million kilometers from the bright Omicron Gamma Sun.
"Our friends will find you....
"Let them" he said over the intercom.
He flicked a switch on his control panel and a computer voice in his earpiece chirped up, "Jettison, please confirm " . There was a slight hissing sound as his ships shields deactivated, and a metallic clinking sound as the maglocks on his cargo bay doors unlatched.
" what!? what are you doi..." the voices from the hold came through again.
He flicked the blinking control and the computer voice chirped again "confirmed" it said.
The voices in the hold began to shout, "wait! what are you..." there was a loud clang as the cargo bay doors opened quickly followed by a swooshing sound, and the bounty hunters were sucked out into the vacuum...
The proximity to the sun and its radiation was not strong enough at this distance to kill instantly, but the flight suits the Hunters wore, strong lightweight material designed to protect from the harshest effects of space would nevertheless give little protection against its effects , they would go blind, blister and burn long before death took them. The suits contained days worth of oxygen but the suns gravity would pull them, unavoidably into its mass, in half that time. Not that they would live long enough to notice that. Their deaths, would be slow and painful.
He backed off from the flailing, floating terrified forms of the bounty hunter pilots, watching them dispassionately. "weapons systems on"
As a final gesture of contempt, he vaporised the nearest hunter pilot. Powering up the ships cruise engines, he flew back to Crete, leaving his grizzly work behind him.
"Your sons and daughters fought and died well, as corsairs, their deaths, will be avenged"
"viva los Corsairs" Ben muttered to himself, finishing the bottle.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Laowai - 01-18-2008
Not more than a few hours later Laowai walked back into the bar, he didn't sit down, instead, walked to the bar itself.
The barman turned from his chores and noted his presence with surprise. "Laowai?" he said " Didn't you take off earlier today?. Ben exhaled and his shoulders noticeably slouched, "yes.... yes yes i did, Hand me a couple of bottles of Baijiu will you".
The barman reached for several of the bottles and putting them on the bar, went to open the first one, but Ben stopped him. "Don't open them, I'll be drinking them in the hangar"
"the hangar?, why the hangar?" asked the Barman.
"Because now my damned Titan is in there again as well"
Taking the bottles, he walked out and made his way to the transport pad that would take him to his hangar outside the city. I should own two of the blasted things... He thought to himself, as he contemplated another all nighter of hull repair.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Zelot - 01-29-2008
Miguel Sephardi walked into the bar, slowly, limping slightly and dirty...very dirty. He went up to Pedro at the bar, "I just got a new bottle of Irish Whisky for you Miguel" Pedro said with alittle pride. Irosh Whisky was alittle hard for a Corsair bartender to get, being made in Dublin and such. "Pedro, I donn't know what I'd do with out you." Miguel responded, pulling a 5,000 credit card out of his pocket, and pulling a small silver chain and pendient, " For your wife, my freind." he said handing it to Pedro. Miguel looked at the bottle as Pedro went to get a glass, The label said "Tully" and nothing else, it made Miguel wonder, Pedro had told him he had a freind who was a smuggling ship captain, and that he usaly came here after Battleship hood, so Miguel knew where the bottle came from, but as Pedro returned, his thought turned to a deeper question. "Pedro, have you ever traveled?" opening the bottle and pouring two glasses he said, "I've been from Crete to California and back again, from Honshu to Omega 49. I have traveled near and far in Sirius, but I'll tell you what. The only place I want to be right now, is here, looking out at those mountans, and hearing the stories of young warriors, with more courage than brains." With that Pedro emptied his glass, and went down the bar to take care of a small group of Benitez pilots.
Miguel picked up the bottle and walked over to a table, sitting down, he rememberd how sore he was. He had been working on his new light fighter all day. This Tiger Shark was one of the fastest ships he had ever seen, but it's armour was paper thin, and it took three times the maintance work as his titan. There was an old joke abhout english cars, he never quite understood the joke untill now, this ship was definatly an english car. Miguel poured himself another glass, and sat back in the booth, slowly sipping his whisky and watching the pilots come in and out.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Lucend - 01-31-2008
Lucendez slipped into the bar and sat at one of the stools.
"Hermano, I want free drinks for everyone tonight."
Pedro did a double take and asked for confirmation. When Pedro got it, he asked why. Juan pulled out a datapad and brought up the image. It was three or four AW ships and one RoS ship cruising through an orange-looking nebula.
Pedro looked frightened at first, but Juan held up a hand.
"Don't worry hermano, it was a mistake. It simply reminded me of the past. The war and the destruction. It reminded me of the brothers and sisters I had to bury, and of the Corsairs that lost limbs." Juan began to slip into thought, but Pedro broke the silence when he sat the Tequila shake on the table.
"Ah, Pedro! Thanks." Lucendez sipped his shake and continued to pick at his pad, looking to the future instead of dwelling on the past.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Gentle - 02-08-2008
Gentle staggered around the bar with a fist full of whisky. Memories of old friends that been lost to him in stupid wars surfaced like an evil fish on a mill pond. Whisky made him forget for a while but nothing could keep down the anger and rage that had become part of his psyche when these maudlin moods took a hold of him. A decision had to be made. Lucendez his old friend had stirred him to make the decision sooner than he felt ready. His dilemma.... Which of the bastards to take his revenge upon first. His passionate hatred of the Red Hessian threat so close to his home base in Cadiz was one of the front runners for extermination their recent antics had brewed a heady concoction of vengeance juice that was fermenting away in his brain like the sirius60 whisky. Then of course Gentle could never put aside the abject distrust and hatred for what he could only refer to as a utter failure to the corsairs ARES. Those SCRA scum had been meddling affairs not their own for far too long news that they now had Open war with the TBH was music to Gentle's ears. 'I wish Id crushed his skull when I had the chance' gentle muttered to himself.
Then it became clear..... a rare moment of clarity bombarded his shot senses. He had tried to heal the wounds between the corsairs and the outcasts. He had almost lost everything by trying to help those cardamined fools realise that pirates throughout sirius needed unity. He realised now the folly in this. They could never be a part of what he believed. They had rejected without discourse any attempts at peace, the thing he desired for his familia more than anything. 'you evil back stabbing motherless pig scum sucking bitches Im going to have every last one of your hearts pumping its last gram of cardamine before I finally hit my well earned grave' he concluded.
The decision was made. Top priority now was for OPG to drive the outcasts into the holes they belong in.
Resolved to action Gentle passed out with a grin on his face.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - REB - 02-10-2008
I slightly unkempt man felt the need to wet his whistle. Walking along some impoverished street on Planet Crete he happened into this bar. As he walks in the piano immediately stops playing and everyone drops what they are doing and looks his way.
"Hola!" he yells, trying to be friendly to the locals. "I am Reb from the Junkers. Peace, brothers!"
Rather than being welcomed with open arms, he is slightly put off by the grim patrons glowering back at him. Some hands move to sidearms while others close into fists.
"Um... I fought with the Brotherhood today. We downed 12 Bounty Hunters!"
The Corsairs are not impressed. A voice up the back growls, "Who dares use the good name of the Brotherhood?"
Reb tries one last tack before high-tailing it out of there. "I am to be your guest on this fine planet for a while... until I can raise the money for a better shield and weapons upgrade. It appears I managed to get myself onto the BHG's number-1 hit list!"
The voice up the back says, "Well Junker, it appears you're a Corsair now!" and a cheer goes up from the crowd. On the way to the bar Reb receives many heavy pats on the back.
Brotherhood Bar-Talks - Laowai - 02-12-2008
Quoting
I m rdy
Centurion Pilot
********
Group: Members
Posts: 636
Joined: 3-June 07
From: Germany
Member No.: 5,270
Corsair Elder council minutes:
Raul stood up, preparing his ideas: "Well, I believe the best thing we can do now is to stop the growing number of independents. I will ask the engineers at Tripoli Shipyard to stop ship construction at once and move the unsold battleships, cruisers and gunboats into Omicron-91 and Omicron-94. Our bases there will be completed soon, so I think we should put the biggest weapons of the Corsairs into the hands of Benitez and TBH. This will take a while, I think, since our bases in our systems haven't been completed yet. But we can right now broadcast a message to all Corsairs that the growing number of battleships, cruisers and gunboats will not be tolerated anymore and can result in destruction of the respective vessels if refused. It is a harsh decision but we need to deal with this situation harsh even if they are our own brothers. Battleships, cruisers and gunboats should only be used by experienced people. We can put up an own license for Corsair capital ships which is needed to own a capital ship. That must even apply to our own brothers in TBH and Benitez."
Brought to you by Hackerz systemz 101 - have a nice day :lol:
The glow of the data pad illuminated his face as he read the text on it's screen. It cast strange shadows on his face as he sat silently in his usual corner of the bar. The minutes of Elders meeting were usually secret, and they certainly were not for public consumption. But years of living on the fringes of Corsair society had given Ben Laowai a deep sense of mistrust for Corsair authorities - and he had no qualms using his skills,or in this case, his captured Lane Hacker data pad with its various hacking tools, to listen in to the comings and goings of the corsair "elite".
He sipped quietly on his Baijiu and studied the words on the screen with a scowl. So it's coming to this he thought to himself. Corsairs contemplating firing on other corsairs, the Elders proposing to tell free corsairs what they can, or in this case, cannot do with their own money, and their own choice of vessel. He scanned the text again; and if they don't obey the lordly dictates of the high and mighty he thought, then they could be fired upon. By their own kin.
Not content to bicker amongst themselves, the "Elders" of the corsairs were now uniting to turn on their own kind, and for nothing more than having the drive and initiative to command a capital ship of their own, crewed, as was his own Cruiser the Xibanya Nuren, more often than not from the lowest rungs of Corsair society, men and woman of no great house or fortune.
He ran a hand through his greying hair and then rested his head upon it.
"You look your usual cheery self!" said the bartender, approaching the table to top up the now empty glass of Baijiu. Laowai hmmmphed a reply and sensing that conversation wasn't needed, the barman topped up the drink and went back to the bar. Truth be told, Laowai did not know how to approach this new information. He lived by a simple code of loyalty, passed down by his father - and this idea? This turned everything he believed Corsairs should be on it's head. The noble houses of Crete were contemplating that they and they alone could field any real power in the skies.
Nobody was taking his ship away, he had worked too damned hard to get it, and his crew had suffered enough to keep it in the air.
But what would he do, if it really came to Corsairs firing on other Corsairs? He considered it, and shook his head in bewilderment, for the second time in as many months, the Council of Elders who were supposed to provide a voice of leadership for Corsairs were openly discussing the possibility of firing on their own.
What kind of fools are these people? He thought to himself. As long as Corsairs behave this way they will always be a small people, divided and weak amongst the stars.
He knew he would have no part in it, he would never fire on a Corsair flagged vessel, nor would he take sides in the petty politics of the elders. Let the Elders and noble houses try to take the independent Corsairs ships away from them, and dishonor, stained with the blood of their own people would be on their hands.
He smiled at a young Corsair pilot who walked into the room. The lad bore no patch identifying a house or group. He was a young independent corsair still wet behind the ears but full of pride and dreams of plunder, hoping to make his fortune and earn himself a name.
Laowai raised his glass to him and downed the last of his drink. Better not have any illusions of command, he thought dryly.