This began as a journal thread that was boring even to the author (me) so I cleared out the content of the posts here. I'll start adding character bios and stories as I have time. Please feel free to comment via PMs if you want to praise, question, heckle, or help me flesh things out. I'm relatively new to FL and Disco so many of the political intricacies often escape me. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!
Rhys Morrigan - Callsign "Morrigan"
* Short Biography --> See posts below.
* Story - (story name goes here)
* Story - (story name goes here)
Jace Wolfe - Callsign "NFS-Loki"
* Short Biography --> See posts below.
* Story - (story name goes here)
* Story - (story name goes here)
Yamada Ryoichi - Callsign "U.C.S.Ronin"
* Short Biography --> See posts below.
* Story - (story name goes here)
* Story - (story name goes here)
Ratchet - Callsign "{JC}-Ratchet"
* Short Biography --> See posts below.
* Story - (story name goes here)
* Story - (story name goes here)
"To gain a hundred victories in a hundred battles is not the highest excellence;
to subjugate the enemy's army without doing battle is the highest of excellence."
Rhys Morrigan - Callsign "Morrigan"
Independent Long-Haul Trader
Short Biography
Rhys Morrigan is the current captain of Haul Ugly and the current CEO from a long line of family members at the helm of Morrigan Transport, Inc. This merchanter family has distant Bretonian roots, but their shipping firm and transport vessels are of Rheinland registry.
Not owning enough large ships to qualify as a faction or fleet entity, Morrigan Transport leases its smaller freighters and older transports to qualified pilots lacking their own. The lease rates are quite reasonable, and many green or down-on-their-luck captains have made use of Morrigan leases to begin (or return to) independent trading.
Haul Ugly Is the only ship in their fleet whose transponder flashes the company name "Morrigan". Station records and public passenger manifests show this ship as picking up and delivering in lawful space of all the major houses. Only rarely does Haul Ugly deviate from the primary trade lanes.
There is no record of Morrigan Transport dealing in anything but legitimate freight business.
"To gain a hundred victories in a hundred battles is not the highest excellence;
to subjugate the enemy's army without doing battle is the highest of excellence."
Jace Wolfe - Callsign "NFS-Loki"
Interspace Commerce Freight Pilot
(This is actually not his short biography. This text will be moved to a story thread and the biography will take its place.)
Short Biography
High energy particle beams bracketed Loki; the Rheinland gunboat had finally located him and found the range in short order; time to move. Wolfe slapped the oversized jury-rigged cruise engine toggle, safety interlock long removed, and felt the big engines wind up with a low growl. "Stayed too long", he murmured to the empty copilot seat; he'd gotten greedy and was now paying the price in adrenaline and H-fuel.
"Cruise engines at nineteen percent power-up", announced a dispassionate audio update from Loki's address and warning system. The canned voice carried an odd harmonic from a time when Wolfe had tried to alter its pitch and rhythm, hoping for a warmer more friendly companion during those long days and weeks spent on Loki, lying dark and deep off the trade lanes and jump gates. Spotter work is about as boring as it comes, can drive the social types crazy in less time than you'd think, but some adapt and maybe enjoy the solitude. Wolfe was one of those; found people to be mostly irritants and complications to a comfortably predictable existence.
"Cruise engines at thirty seven percent power-up"
A big rock slowly spun across to block optic LOS for the incoming gunboat. Fortunate break, but he'd picked this particular nesting spot for that very reason. Few of the big rocks remotely near Bering's trade lanes were transponder tagged, but Loki's custom mining soft could plot a nice tight nook in which he could sit quietly and observe. Peering out of random cover to a busy trade lane is a helluva lot easier than finding a non-emitting ship within said cover.
"Cruise engines at fifty five percent... Incoming Missile."
The low warbling hornet-buzz accompanying the verbal warning told trained ears a cruise disruptor warhead was inbound and too close for comfort. Wolfe swore under his breath and dispensed a random stream of ECM squawkers with a staccato tapping of his left thumb on the control yoke's CM button. The CD missile was unexpectedly close; a glance at his target list revealed the source as a previously unseen fighter only 900 meters off Loki's port quarter and closing fast on full thrusters. A cold feeling passed through Wolfe's gut, wasn't like the Rheinlanders to randomly run fighters through rock fields this far off of a trade lane.
"Cruise engines at seventy two percent power-up"
A blue-white bloom on optics said the ECM flares and the rock field had conspired to detonate the incoming missile out of its EM pulse range. But the threat warning buzz continued undiminished along with a rapid string of curses as Wolfe filtered his contact list by range and severity of threat. "You sneaky bastards...", hairs stood up on his arms and neck as the severity of his situation took root behind the problem-solving brainwork that might keep him alive. A second fighter had leapt to the top of his threat list, its signature and CD missile payload masked by the near planetoid-sized ball of ice and rock to starboard. "Definitely a setup", Wolfe said through gritted teeth as his thumb activated the flare dispenser again.
"Cruise engines at 88% power-up"
Loki'd been set dark and nearly dead, life support barely stirring the slowly fouling air, her tubular hull nestled deep enough into the rock field to make random detection an extremely unlikely event. Two fighters don't just by chance put the squeeze play on a silent lurker deep in the rocks, not unless the pilot was tranq'd or scrubbing through his vid collection rather than maintaining watch on his sensors.
"Cruise engines at full."
G's increased to painful levels as the cruise engines shoved Loki hard forward. The padding in his command couch wasn't much good anymore, mostly a lumpy mass only slightly softer than the steel frame. Muscles strained against the Gs as Wolfe kicked the sluggish freighter off auto, knowing from experience that the mining software wasn't up to steering through these rocks at cruise speeds.
"Incoming mis... Incoming missile."
Both fighters had launched nearly simultaneously and from less than 500 meters, trying to knock Loki off cruise before the range became too great. Hard jinking and another string of counter measures ended with a bone-jarring crash as the forward dorsal turret impacted a massive rock, slamming the ship down and to starboard a full 60 degrees; only Wolfe's helmet restraints prevented neck injury as black dots swam in his peripheral vision. The vibrations of Loki's cruise engines winding down reached his brain, the shock of the impact having blinded him to the apparently successful missile hits.
Green fire rippled along Loki's hull, shields offlined from that rock impact, maybe something else, hard to tell. Jace surveyed his instruments and displays quickly, trying to clear the double vision that constantly threatened. Streaming gasses and debris obscured most of his forward optics, and half of his indicators were flashing red or lit amber. "Well then, that is that" mumbled Jace as he reached for the capsule eject switch.
Again Wolfe's body was slammed by high Gs as the capsule clam-shelled around him and blasted free of the stricken freighter. Magnesium destruct charges would take care of the computer and avionics systems and any other non-standard equipment aboard Loki. Hopefully the Rheinlanders would pick him up rather than use his pod for target practice; not that he expected to survive Rheinland detention in any case.
Something struck his pod sharply, no idea what, and again another jarring impact. The black dots swam in his eyes again, grew larger and bled together, stealing his vision and his consciousness.
"To gain a hundred victories in a hundred battles is not the highest excellence;
to subjugate the enemy's army without doing battle is the highest of excellence."
Yamada Ryoichi - Callsign "U.C.S.Ronin"
Unaffiliated ex-Blood Dragon (This is actually not his short biography. This text will be moved to a story thread and the biography will take its place.)
Short Biography
Ryoichi's lips move slightly as he reads over the comm he's about to send.
"... Isn't over 300 years of this war enough? At what point does it become a matter of pride, tradition, even habit rather than a necessity? I will no longer wage war for a diminished idea, a reflex which is no longer in touch with the Kusari of today. It's not that I'm opposed to taking lives in war, or even war for advantage. I simply refuse to do so for an ideology that is long past any meaning.
Ronin is mine; the Yamada family's wealth and influence bought this ship and we've served the Blood Dragons well for decades. Now we two, Ronin and I, take our leave of this war with a promise to do no harm to those we've fought beside for so long. While I might turn my back on the restoration of the Hideyoshi dynasty, I cannot turn my guns on my brothers in arms.
Farewell warriors; may our paths cross again in better times.
-Yamada Ryoichi
He nods once, lips in a tight line but the furrow in his brow eases as he taps send and the message flashes to his friends, his commander, pretty much everyone he respects and cares for. He hopes they respect his decision or at least in time forgive his denial, his refusal.
"Now what?", Ryoichi asked aloud of himself with a sigh, absently tapping his stylus on the comm screen.
<next post>
He sat back and took a sip from his mug, closing his eyes for a time, thoughts dancing between the future and his past; Hana's face floated there, smiling. He could still see every detail of her face and the fire in her eyes at times. She hadn't been cut out for that life and she knew it, but they wouldn't let her out. He'd never forgive the GC for her death. He'd considered going after them, taking out as many of those rabid kitsunetsuki as possible, but some were like her and he had not the heart.
His eyes flicked open as he nearly dropped his drink and set it down on the console. "Mercenary work..." he mused. As usual that thought was accompanied by a sense of dread that he'd end up working against his old crew or even for their side again. He didn't want that sort of contact, not for a while anyway. Leaving the Kusari region was an option, but being at the mercy of a foreign faction for pay and employ was too frought with question marks to be a savory choice.
<next post>
Ryoichi leafed through a short stack of records he'd printed, his financial statement rested on top. He picked it up and shuffled through its pages again; he wasn't poor by any means, but maintaining a gunboat wasn't cheap. The last page was blank but for a portion of the bank's standard disclaimer so he pulled that sheet and after a time absently began to fold it.
Origami wasn't really his thing. Hana had been a master, so patient and precise, trying repeatedly until each figure was perfect. He could barely shape the standard crane, a flower or two, several styles of moderately complex paper spacecraft. He'd always wanted to be a pilot, folded ships and built models galore as a child. It still exhilerated him to walk about his Ronin, admiring its lines, running a hand along the cold alloy frame. He refocused on the paper in his hands and a slight smirk crept to the corner of his mouth. Inadvertent as it was, the final result wasn't bad and was certainly recognizable.
He plopped the folder paper over the top of Ronin's throttle stick and hopped to his feet, new purpose in his stride as he headed dockside to provision up. The little pirate hat spun on the throttle stick as the motion of his rapid passing stirred the air on the bridge.
<next post>
"Augh!" he yelled as he re-entered Ronin's bridge area, slamming the bulkhead hatch in frustration. "Freeport dockmasters are some serious bastards at times" he said to himself with a scowl at the chits in his hand as he plopped down on his command couch. He tossed the chits into a drawer, unwilling to enter the absurd charges into his comp system yet.
His eyes fell upon the tiny pirate hat hanging from the throttle stick and he picked it up, holding it gingerly between his two index fingers. He blinked and tossed the folder paper into his recyc bin, leaned back and pursed his lips in thought. Some would call him "pirate", others would name him "Ronin", and that fit his frame of mind well. Ronin: the epitome of self-determination; independent men who dictate their own path in life, answering only to themselves and making decisions as they see fit. Yeah, that'll do.
"To gain a hundred victories in a hundred battles is not the highest excellence;
to subjugate the enemy's army without doing battle is the highest of excellence."
"To gain a hundred victories in a hundred battles is not the highest excellence;
to subjugate the enemy's army without doing battle is the highest of excellence."
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