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Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 03-12-2016
Cody Faulkner
A Stranger In The Strange Land
A Stranger In The Strange Land
Name: Cody Faulkner
Gender: Male
Age: 24 (March 10th)
Origin: Rheinland![[Image: rheinland_freelancer___flag_by_neethis.png]](http://orig04.deviantart.net/b784/f/2009/288/1/1/rheinland_freelancer___flag_by_neethis.png)
Occupation: Bounty Hunter(?)
Affiliation: Veritas
Modifications: artificial eye; prosthetic jaw; prosthetic leg.
Status: Crippled
[align=justify]KNOWN BIOGRAPHY
The undercover group, known simply as Veritas, being in possession of quite exotic technology and significant funds kept their own research at bay. One of them was focused onto genetic manipulation and conciousness research, being well-hidden in the deepest and most secure facilities owned by private contractors somewhere in Bretonia.
Unlike most of the subjects, which were caught or bought from slave markets thoughtrough Sirius, Cody Faulkner was a volounteer - diagnosed with terminal ilness known as Vrolik syndrome, being completely unable to co-exist in the society. However, after receiving the "medical treatment" he managed to escape the research facility as soon as he learnt that all the subjects would be, in the end, destined for eternal damnation. Given that Cody's former life and origin had been erased and pulled into nothingness he managed to hide for several years. The distrust towards "normal" members of the Sirian society - althrought justified one - kept him away from the Houses and their politics, experiencing the voloutary exile and seclusion.
Post-war turmoil after Liberty-Rheinland Conflict made him interested into sweeping all the information regarding the inner territories of Sirius Sector, eventually leading him out of his hideouts in sector's far reaches. He is rumored to possess a small fortune earned for magnitude of silent jobs he had concluded back in the Edge Worlds.
BEHAVIOUR
Usually silent and keen to listen, under his thick layer of distrust and need of seclusion lay well-hidden layer of brutality. Despite this fact, he seems to more like a puppeteer rather than a full-scale psychopathic kind of a pirate. His undeniably cruel nature is not surfaced until Cody is all alone with the captive - preferably away in a silent crib in the middle of nowhere.
However, the man is not a mindless butcher; Cody is sly enough to get away from the fuss is he gets into trouble, barely using his guns to find his way out of the situation. This had been learnt back within depths of the Edge Worlds in which only the strongers will survive, with the smartest able to survive a bit longer. This approach have but one flaw - lack of rival powerful enough to challange him for a game of wits.
PERSONAL TIES
1. Werner Whitehall, Dr.
A pretty high-rank scientist of Veritas Group; "Father".
2. Joeffrey Moreau, Dr.
A scientist of Veritas Group; Pretty big disregard towards him.
3. Jake Wells
A mercenary hired for Faulkner Estate; No opinion on him.
4. Larry Macduff
An independent shipper with possible ties to Enzo Dance; Pure curiosity.
5. The Slaver's Union
The loose federation of Sirius slavers and manhunters; Unfriendly.
Gender: Male
Age: 24 (March 10th)
Origin: Rheinland
Occupation: Bounty Hunter(?)
Affiliation: Veritas
Modifications: artificial eye; prosthetic jaw; prosthetic leg.
Status: Crippled
[align=justify]KNOWN BIOGRAPHY
The undercover group, known simply as Veritas, being in possession of quite exotic technology and significant funds kept their own research at bay. One of them was focused onto genetic manipulation and conciousness research, being well-hidden in the deepest and most secure facilities owned by private contractors somewhere in Bretonia.
Unlike most of the subjects, which were caught or bought from slave markets thoughtrough Sirius, Cody Faulkner was a volounteer - diagnosed with terminal ilness known as Vrolik syndrome, being completely unable to co-exist in the society. However, after receiving the "medical treatment" he managed to escape the research facility as soon as he learnt that all the subjects would be, in the end, destined for eternal damnation. Given that Cody's former life and origin had been erased and pulled into nothingness he managed to hide for several years. The distrust towards "normal" members of the Sirian society - althrought justified one - kept him away from the Houses and their politics, experiencing the voloutary exile and seclusion.
Post-war turmoil after Liberty-Rheinland Conflict made him interested into sweeping all the information regarding the inner territories of Sirius Sector, eventually leading him out of his hideouts in sector's far reaches. He is rumored to possess a small fortune earned for magnitude of silent jobs he had concluded back in the Edge Worlds.
BEHAVIOUR
Usually silent and keen to listen, under his thick layer of distrust and need of seclusion lay well-hidden layer of brutality. Despite this fact, he seems to more like a puppeteer rather than a full-scale psychopathic kind of a pirate. His undeniably cruel nature is not surfaced until Cody is all alone with the captive - preferably away in a silent crib in the middle of nowhere.
However, the man is not a mindless butcher; Cody is sly enough to get away from the fuss is he gets into trouble, barely using his guns to find his way out of the situation. This had been learnt back within depths of the Edge Worlds in which only the strongers will survive, with the smartest able to survive a bit longer. This approach have but one flaw - lack of rival powerful enough to challange him for a game of wits.
PERSONAL TIES
1. Werner Whitehall, Dr.
A pretty high-rank scientist of Veritas Group; "Father".
2. Joeffrey Moreau, Dr.
A scientist of Veritas Group; Pretty big disregard towards him.
3. Jake Wells
A mercenary hired for Faulkner Estate; No opinion on him.
4. Larry Macduff
An independent shipper with possible ties to Enzo Dance; Pure curiosity.
5. The Slaver's Union
The loose federation of Sirius slavers and manhunters; Unfriendly.
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 03-16-2016
Diary #1
I smell something in the air. It is not I was smuggling the very first time in my life - I do all the time. But something is very wrong with this exact shipment of weaponry, which is to be pushed into Freeport 11 in far away Omicrons. The route is also pretty familiar to me, so it isn't this as well. But, something for sure is wrong.
But then, everything can go wrong and I can sense it. One of the many shipments I have to deliver to Omicrons from so-called civilised space: heavy weaponry unmarked with any numbers or codes, unlocked and ready to fire right away. But then, something was really wrong with that guy back in Liberty. But boxes themselves? They look harmless - except for the fact they contains the tools of death which will be used by all scoundlers within Omicron Delta and beyond. Or not, if The Core would place their hands onto cargo first.
The familiar sense of seclusion inside Sigma-17 has always been calm one for me. Outside the authorities' hands, both Cryer and Samura does their deals in here, fending away common motley or rivalous Gas Miners Guild from their own businesses. Not that I mind the former, since I often deal with Outcasts in this area - not that time to time I get artifacts from neighbouring system, however keeping the direct contract with Corsairs to minimum. They have never trusted foreigners except for a few and I never seen a reason to look for it myself.
I pass next to Planet Kurile - and from there my ship sleeks around Omicron Minor's jumphole. It takes a long while until I materialize, alongside with my ship, safely on the other side. There, I start to pray that no Order or Core patrol would ever be there. True, Omicron Minor, since the eventual assaults of The Core and Aliens is now a great graveyard, time to time there are certain patrols from both parties - not counting the Aliens themselves. Logically, neither of these three are willing to have a chat next to a tea and cookies.
Since Planet Toledo - once a home to a protection-born organization, now big graveyard made of lava and melted ground and metals floating around - has always been away from my usual route, I do not have any intention to fly next to it. The alienish, green cloud is enough to cover my presence entirely, unless some lucky patrol cuts my route and would try to intercept me. This, thankfully, do not happen for the next long minutes I cruise hastily towards the next jumphole.
Omicron Minor had always been scary itself. Now with all these moving scraps of metal - and possibly all these lifeless bodies - it became a true graveyard. It always feels like in one of these horror movies, except for the fact you do not sit in front of a video chewing on tasty popcorn. Presence of system-large cloud in the area is also something that makes me uneasy each time I pass that place: the sound, vibrating sound coming through the particles and connecting with hull of my ship, completely ignoring the shield as if it was not there. Truly frightening, even if one gets used to it.
Seeing the jumphole, I finally take a calmer breath and prepare for yet another series of turbulences and afterward feeling of huge dispancement after jump. After few seconds, both within and out the hole, I come to conclussion I can regain from confusion caused by the jump. It always makes me question how Ageira actually managed to make the Jump Gate travels a bit less messy. Charms of technology, I suppose. Giving away the thoughts, I push cruise one again and fly straight in Freeport's direction.
Omicron Delta is yet another strange yet active place. Actually, it is a battlefield that witness many battles between all major Omicron players: The Core, Corsairs, The Order, Outcasts... I could swear I have even seen the House Military ships in this system as well... Maybe, maybe not. Who cares about that except for inhabitants and interested parties themselves? No one else, I pressume. Oh yes, and Aliens. These blue Aliens being one of the reasons why there is no place for peace, even if others would stop fighting even for just a day or few.
So, as I come closer to the Freeport 11, I witness something strange. A lone blue Alien. Being prepared for the worst, I pull all the buttons needed to activate weapon system. But then... I start to wonder. It sits in place, as if waiting for something or looking at me. Then, it comes closer, as if curious what am I doing or what I am. One of these Alien tricks? Perhaps. I am already prepared for the worst and sit tight.
But then, it simply flies around me. Normally, as I encounter these creatures, they fire away right at the moment they see me. But this one? Small and all alone, instead of flying in swarms. After yet another circle, it simply flies away in haste. I notice two other ships, bearing Zoner markings. Without any question towards me, they pass next to me after the Alien - which, for my understandment, is already out of their reach. In that time, I simply turn my engines back into cruise and fly safely into Freeport's neighbourhood.
For sure it was not a mirage, as some pilots like to depict the untold and bizzare things. A trick? I do not suppose, since it would attack right at the least expected moments. That small Alien just disappeared and ran away. Without much thought, I quickly leave cargo onto Freeport 11 and - after hearing the familiar bling-bling sound, which I have set for credit income - leave the station entirely. Omicrons. They indeed feel like home some days. A home that craps on your face but in the very next day welcomes you with a warm tea and cookies. But, which one was today's day, after all?
But then, everything can go wrong and I can sense it. One of the many shipments I have to deliver to Omicrons from so-called civilised space: heavy weaponry unmarked with any numbers or codes, unlocked and ready to fire right away. But then, something was really wrong with that guy back in Liberty. But boxes themselves? They look harmless - except for the fact they contains the tools of death which will be used by all scoundlers within Omicron Delta and beyond. Or not, if The Core would place their hands onto cargo first.
The familiar sense of seclusion inside Sigma-17 has always been calm one for me. Outside the authorities' hands, both Cryer and Samura does their deals in here, fending away common motley or rivalous Gas Miners Guild from their own businesses. Not that I mind the former, since I often deal with Outcasts in this area - not that time to time I get artifacts from neighbouring system, however keeping the direct contract with Corsairs to minimum. They have never trusted foreigners except for a few and I never seen a reason to look for it myself.
I pass next to Planet Kurile - and from there my ship sleeks around Omicron Minor's jumphole. It takes a long while until I materialize, alongside with my ship, safely on the other side. There, I start to pray that no Order or Core patrol would ever be there. True, Omicron Minor, since the eventual assaults of The Core and Aliens is now a great graveyard, time to time there are certain patrols from both parties - not counting the Aliens themselves. Logically, neither of these three are willing to have a chat next to a tea and cookies.
Since Planet Toledo - once a home to a protection-born organization, now big graveyard made of lava and melted ground and metals floating around - has always been away from my usual route, I do not have any intention to fly next to it. The alienish, green cloud is enough to cover my presence entirely, unless some lucky patrol cuts my route and would try to intercept me. This, thankfully, do not happen for the next long minutes I cruise hastily towards the next jumphole.
Omicron Minor had always been scary itself. Now with all these moving scraps of metal - and possibly all these lifeless bodies - it became a true graveyard. It always feels like in one of these horror movies, except for the fact you do not sit in front of a video chewing on tasty popcorn. Presence of system-large cloud in the area is also something that makes me uneasy each time I pass that place: the sound, vibrating sound coming through the particles and connecting with hull of my ship, completely ignoring the shield as if it was not there. Truly frightening, even if one gets used to it.
Seeing the jumphole, I finally take a calmer breath and prepare for yet another series of turbulences and afterward feeling of huge dispancement after jump. After few seconds, both within and out the hole, I come to conclussion I can regain from confusion caused by the jump. It always makes me question how Ageira actually managed to make the Jump Gate travels a bit less messy. Charms of technology, I suppose. Giving away the thoughts, I push cruise one again and fly straight in Freeport's direction.
Omicron Delta is yet another strange yet active place. Actually, it is a battlefield that witness many battles between all major Omicron players: The Core, Corsairs, The Order, Outcasts... I could swear I have even seen the House Military ships in this system as well... Maybe, maybe not. Who cares about that except for inhabitants and interested parties themselves? No one else, I pressume. Oh yes, and Aliens. These blue Aliens being one of the reasons why there is no place for peace, even if others would stop fighting even for just a day or few.
So, as I come closer to the Freeport 11, I witness something strange. A lone blue Alien. Being prepared for the worst, I pull all the buttons needed to activate weapon system. But then... I start to wonder. It sits in place, as if waiting for something or looking at me. Then, it comes closer, as if curious what am I doing or what I am. One of these Alien tricks? Perhaps. I am already prepared for the worst and sit tight.
But then, it simply flies around me. Normally, as I encounter these creatures, they fire away right at the moment they see me. But this one? Small and all alone, instead of flying in swarms. After yet another circle, it simply flies away in haste. I notice two other ships, bearing Zoner markings. Without any question towards me, they pass next to me after the Alien - which, for my understandment, is already out of their reach. In that time, I simply turn my engines back into cruise and fly safely into Freeport's neighbourhood.
For sure it was not a mirage, as some pilots like to depict the untold and bizzare things. A trick? I do not suppose, since it would attack right at the least expected moments. That small Alien just disappeared and ran away. Without much thought, I quickly leave cargo onto Freeport 11 and - after hearing the familiar bling-bling sound, which I have set for credit income - leave the station entirely. Omicrons. They indeed feel like home some days. A home that craps on your face but in the very next day welcomes you with a warm tea and cookies. But, which one was today's day, after all?
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 03-16-2016
Diary #2
A meeting with Mr Whitehall, yet another one, but not-so-wanted one indeed. Aside of my former hostilities, I convinced myself to listen to this man, what I am doing so far. True, he is not the one of these white knights, but then I have little choice to go. He is one of the few knowing my true purpose, so it is nice going for me. He is caring towards me, which is quite strange for me as I still remember what Veritas is doing. The thing I was done, surely, it saved my life - which had been destined to end sooner than later due to quite rare Vrolick Syndrome I inherited from someone in my family.
Family. That word now seems... distant. I do not remember all the facts from my previous life and I kind of hope to make it stay that way. I already asked "Father" to destroy all the evidence of my past life. "Father," that is what I call Mr Whitehall, the chief scientist on that damned secure building somewhere on that secluded island on Cambridge which is the first of Sirian people that contacted me. How did he find me, I still ask myself. But... family. From what I see, he is my family, the only family, for now. I hate him with all my heart, but then some affection remains. Brain, why you do this to me?
I see the familiar signature near Cambridge, which I happen to make my route from Rheinland into Newcastle with Aluminium - the shipment to make less fuss around the House Space. The signature belongs to, guess who, Whitehall himself. But when I try to run away, something is happening with my ship. And I do not like it, throwing a few abusive words towards my father, even asking if he does control of this ship. All except the toilet, I suppose. Otherwise, I would be peeing to the damn coffee mug, not even speaking about the... other things.
The chat is in a friendly manner, despite the fact I became captured by him once again. Whitehall has questions, then a friendly chat emerges to my satisfaction. And then, he comes: the gunboat out of nowhere, with its captain seemingly knowing my Father. I listen to the conversation, not truly understanding what it is all about, but then everything surfaces: this guy, the captain, is named Larry Macduff. And he seems to know both Whitehall and states that he uses to know yet another Project. His name, Red, is nothing I have heard before.
As the tensions arise, I quickly jump next to Whitehall, openly stating that either the Bretonian leaves him alone - or he goes throught me. Not sure if impressed or not, the captain seems to chat with my Father a bit longer, with part of the conversation being the mystery to me as I have to dock the Research Station. However, when I return to the place, my father is not in place. So, I await. A bit later, he appears from the Cambridge's planetside. When I ask about what he was doing, he depicts the entire situation. I quickly come to the conclussion that I do not really care about 'others' of my 'kind'. This, actually, quite annoys Father.
To teach me a lesson, my ship is, once again, being under his control: mooring to the Research Station - again - with himself entering my vessel all of sudden. I quickly raise up from my usual place and ask him about it, to get out of my ship. I fail, then go further with threats. But when he gets out a stun baton, I sense something may and will emerge. I warn him not to come closer, but then he ignores it. When in reach, I try to disarm him from a stun baton - not sure if due to given instincts or just because I feel threatened. With, well, little effect, to my shock.
My disobedience quickly meets with swift and painful kick, which makes my view blacken out. It takes me seconds to recover from it, both angered and terrified. He tells me to get up, throwing away the stun baton. I take the initiative, trying to pounce on him and hit, with a bit mixed outcome. Due to his age, he dodges it and even though it does not completely connect, Whitehall can feel the pain. I feel the strong series of hits landing on my body, to which I reply with bite onto his hand. I can hear the groan of my Father, then I quickly jump away towards the wall. I can feel the metallic taste of blood, alongside with its foul smell.
I start to pant and look at him. He was not expecting it, I look onto his face. But then, I see his eyes: not sure if it is disappointment, anger or sadness - or all mixed up. With no words, he takes up the baton and walks up to me. When the stun baton is fired up, I can hear its buzzing which cause some fear in my mind. I cannot control it, despite all the will I have. I simply fear it. I look away from this device, breathing a bit faster ready to run away. I can hear the closer steps.
"Enough."
Hearing his voice, I look back at him, not being sure what would that refer to. I feel the utter guilt for letting my nerves surface. It takes me a moment to realize he has taken the baton away and hidden it deep inside his cloak. Once again, he becomes the old professor which I knew - my Father. Holding on his bleeding hand, he turns away, as if out of dissapointment. I ask about if he is right, but he gives no reply, ordering to follow me via my ship as soon as he leaves it. He has something to show to me, but then I am not sure if I really should go. However, having no other alternative, in the end I make myself listen to him and follow.
The trip is quite short, as we reach Dublin and then a bit more familiar Omega-49 from there. It quickly comes out I am assigned a new place: something that used to be Blackwood's Estate on Gran Canaria. Father, despite the encounter, is quite willing to give it to me, as he "took my craving for independence for the insolence of a brat". I sit there, speechless. But then, as I recover from disbelief, I quickly accept the offer without much thinking because I really like freedoms he is offering to me which may come in handy in the close future. He agrees that I need some authonomy as well as having some actual service for his organization. However, it makes me wonder: why are you doing all this?
Family. That word now seems... distant. I do not remember all the facts from my previous life and I kind of hope to make it stay that way. I already asked "Father" to destroy all the evidence of my past life. "Father," that is what I call Mr Whitehall, the chief scientist on that damned secure building somewhere on that secluded island on Cambridge which is the first of Sirian people that contacted me. How did he find me, I still ask myself. But... family. From what I see, he is my family, the only family, for now. I hate him with all my heart, but then some affection remains. Brain, why you do this to me?
I see the familiar signature near Cambridge, which I happen to make my route from Rheinland into Newcastle with Aluminium - the shipment to make less fuss around the House Space. The signature belongs to, guess who, Whitehall himself. But when I try to run away, something is happening with my ship. And I do not like it, throwing a few abusive words towards my father, even asking if he does control of this ship. All except the toilet, I suppose. Otherwise, I would be peeing to the damn coffee mug, not even speaking about the... other things.
The chat is in a friendly manner, despite the fact I became captured by him once again. Whitehall has questions, then a friendly chat emerges to my satisfaction. And then, he comes: the gunboat out of nowhere, with its captain seemingly knowing my Father. I listen to the conversation, not truly understanding what it is all about, but then everything surfaces: this guy, the captain, is named Larry Macduff. And he seems to know both Whitehall and states that he uses to know yet another Project. His name, Red, is nothing I have heard before.
As the tensions arise, I quickly jump next to Whitehall, openly stating that either the Bretonian leaves him alone - or he goes throught me. Not sure if impressed or not, the captain seems to chat with my Father a bit longer, with part of the conversation being the mystery to me as I have to dock the Research Station. However, when I return to the place, my father is not in place. So, I await. A bit later, he appears from the Cambridge's planetside. When I ask about what he was doing, he depicts the entire situation. I quickly come to the conclussion that I do not really care about 'others' of my 'kind'. This, actually, quite annoys Father.
To teach me a lesson, my ship is, once again, being under his control: mooring to the Research Station - again - with himself entering my vessel all of sudden. I quickly raise up from my usual place and ask him about it, to get out of my ship. I fail, then go further with threats. But when he gets out a stun baton, I sense something may and will emerge. I warn him not to come closer, but then he ignores it. When in reach, I try to disarm him from a stun baton - not sure if due to given instincts or just because I feel threatened. With, well, little effect, to my shock.
My disobedience quickly meets with swift and painful kick, which makes my view blacken out. It takes me seconds to recover from it, both angered and terrified. He tells me to get up, throwing away the stun baton. I take the initiative, trying to pounce on him and hit, with a bit mixed outcome. Due to his age, he dodges it and even though it does not completely connect, Whitehall can feel the pain. I feel the strong series of hits landing on my body, to which I reply with bite onto his hand. I can hear the groan of my Father, then I quickly jump away towards the wall. I can feel the metallic taste of blood, alongside with its foul smell.
I start to pant and look at him. He was not expecting it, I look onto his face. But then, I see his eyes: not sure if it is disappointment, anger or sadness - or all mixed up. With no words, he takes up the baton and walks up to me. When the stun baton is fired up, I can hear its buzzing which cause some fear in my mind. I cannot control it, despite all the will I have. I simply fear it. I look away from this device, breathing a bit faster ready to run away. I can hear the closer steps.
"Enough."
Hearing his voice, I look back at him, not being sure what would that refer to. I feel the utter guilt for letting my nerves surface. It takes me a moment to realize he has taken the baton away and hidden it deep inside his cloak. Once again, he becomes the old professor which I knew - my Father. Holding on his bleeding hand, he turns away, as if out of dissapointment. I ask about if he is right, but he gives no reply, ordering to follow me via my ship as soon as he leaves it. He has something to show to me, but then I am not sure if I really should go. However, having no other alternative, in the end I make myself listen to him and follow.
The trip is quite short, as we reach Dublin and then a bit more familiar Omega-49 from there. It quickly comes out I am assigned a new place: something that used to be Blackwood's Estate on Gran Canaria. Father, despite the encounter, is quite willing to give it to me, as he "took my craving for independence for the insolence of a brat". I sit there, speechless. But then, as I recover from disbelief, I quickly accept the offer without much thinking because I really like freedoms he is offering to me which may come in handy in the close future. He agrees that I need some authonomy as well as having some actual service for his organization. However, it makes me wonder: why are you doing all this?
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 03-18-2016
Log #1
|LF|Emile.Roux: A Sirian...
|LF|Emile.Roux: A Sirian...
|LF|Emile.Roux: You will stop. Now.
Cody.Faulkner: Oh! Excuse me!
Cody.Faulkner: Will do.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Tell me what you're doing here. Now.
Cody.Faulkner: Just doing some business, that's... all.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Business? With who?
Cody.Faulkner: Ah. Maquis... Who are you?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I am Emile Roux, of La Fraternite du Serment du Jeu de Paume.
|LF|Emile.Roux: One of the true freedom fighters of Gallia.
Cody.Faulkner: I meant... Who are the Maqui... oh.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Tell me where this cargo is headed. Now.
Cody.Faulkner: To Versailles, sadly.
|LF|Emile.Roux: No. It is not.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is headed to Champagne.
Cody.Faulkner: Oh?
Cody.Faulkner: *Thinks.* Very well.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is headed to aid true Gauls.
Cody.Faulkner: How the hell flowers are going to aid anyone?
|LF|Emile.Roux: You will follow my vessel, and if you stray, I will end your life.
Cody.Faulkner: Hold on, chill down.
|LF|Emile.Roux: You are contributing to the Royalist economy, and therefore aiding the Crown.
Cody.Faulkner: What if it is put into private hands?
|LF|Emile.Roux: You clearly do not know about Gallia...
|LF|Emile.Roux: Those private hands are also nobles and pigs supporting the Crown.
Cody.Faulkner: Hm.
Cody.Faulkner: So, you are telling me, 90% of Gauls are, well, Nobles?
Cody.Faulkner: *Crosses his arms.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: The ones who import from Sirius are usually such.
Cody.Faulkner: Hm. How much does Champagne pays for that?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I do not know. But the revolution is not about payment, Sirian.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is about fighting for our freedom.
Cody.Faulkner: Revolution doesn't fill the bowl, Gaul.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And I have little patience for greed that lines the pockets of the oppressors.
|LF|Emile.Roux: We Maquis are not like our Council brothers.
Cody.Faulkner: ... Okay, this message I got.
Cody.Faulkner: Lead the way.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Oui. Follow me.
|LF|Emile.Roux: What little do you know of our country, Sirian? Something must bring you here.
Cody.Faulkner: To be honest, I'm off the touch with all Sirius.
|LF|Emile.Roux: I do not understand. Explain.
Cody.Faulkner: I've spent a lot of time in the Edge Worlds... You know where Edge Worlds are, right?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I have heard of them.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is where your sickening Outcasts live, non?
Cody.Faulkner: Even further.
|LF|Emile.Roux: I hope you are on okay terms with Le Conseil.
Cody.Faulkner: Never met them, so I do not really know.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Merde... Hurry, Sirian.
Cody.Faulkner: Have you seen these blips?
|LF|Emile.Roux: That is the Gallic Royal Police. Bastards who would kill you for being here.
|LF|Emile.Roux: We are nearing the jump hole...
|LF|Emile.Roux: You can see a Council base here.
Cody.Faulkner: I sadly must admit that, unlike you, I can easily escape Royals.
|LF|Emile.Roux: I see the odd device you bear on your vessel. I have seen its use before.
Cody.Faulkner: Indeed.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Here it is, Sirian. The capital of freedom in Gallia. Choked to death by the royals.
Cody.Faulkner: Must be nice place.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Millions suffering and languishing, all for the price of freedom.
|LF|Emile.Roux: All because the debauched nobility and their corrupt institutes of governance and domination.
Cody.Faulkner: I'm not into politics.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Because of, even.
|LF|Emile.Roux: No. But perhaps you realize suffering. And the scale of it.
Cody.Faulkner: ...
|LF|Emile.Roux: Do you see now? It is not thousands.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Not hundreds of thousands.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Not even single millions.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Tens of millions.
Cody.Faulkner: If you are going to throw the numbers, it will not impress me.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Step on to the surface and it will be seen.
Cody.Faulkner: Because all of us, somewhere, are hit by someone else. It's life. And you cannot cease it.
|LF|Emile.Roux: No. But we may fight against evil where it rises.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Battles may never end. But to stop fighting is to lose them.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And defeat is the ruin of all that is good.
Cody.Faulkner: Sadly, I believe in nothing else but myself.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And why is that?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Why can you not believe in something larger?
[[DATA CORRUPTED, RESETING DEVICE, INITIATING BACKUP COPY.]]
|LF|Emile.Roux: Sacre bleu... Ions.
Cody.Faulkner: A serious ones indeed.
Cody.Faulkner: My recent maps just got wiped out.
Cody.Faulkner: Scheisse... *Murmurs.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: Planet Marne contains many suffering. Desperate to leave. You would do well to pay attention.
Cody.Faulkner: Do you think I care about other people?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I think your basic sentience and empathetic functions are still in proper working order, Sirian.
Cody.Faulkner: Yes, it sounds wrong. But I care only about myself and the closest relatives.
Cody.Faulkner: You speak 'Sirian' as if it was an insult.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Because you Sirians have never understood the gravity of our plight.
Cody.Faulkner: We do have enough of our own matters.
|LF|Emile.Roux: All you see are your petty politics and revolutionary stalemates.
|LF|Emile.Roux: While millions languish and perish constantly in our homes, here...
Cody.Faulkner: Hm. At least device is in one piece and working...
Cody.Faulkner: Oh, spare me the tearjerking stories.
Cody.Faulkner: Don't you think I've heard enough of them?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Go to the planet. Drop off your cargo. And merely walk through.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And look around you.
***
Cody.Faulkner: I am back. And?
|LF|Emile.Roux: The starving children whose bones are the only mark of a living being, poking through their skin.
|LF|Emile.Roux: The men who have lost limb and soul for their freedom.
|LF|Emile.Roux: But I see you have no soul.
Cody.Faulkner: It's not lack of soul.
Cody.Faulkner: It is years in Edge Worlds, not to mention other things.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Your baseless, corrupt mind is not uncommon to me. Merely angering and disappointing.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Perhaps that is how I can get you to stop supporting the tyrants, thenn.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Then, even.
Cody.Faulkner: I do not support government.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Did you see the various refugee camps littering the surface?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Assuming you did not look over suffering.
Cody.Faulkner: And? So what?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Those refugees have a desire to escape this wartorn House.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And there are individuals in Libertie and other Houses willing to pay much for their safety.
Cody.Faulkner: Death would be better for them in certain cases.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Death would be a mercy to scum like you. But you have your uses.
Cody.Faulkner: And, what makes you think they won't be just gathered into experiments?
Cody.Faulkner: Or pushed into slavery?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I assume you have conscience enough to ensure they are placed in the right hands.
|LF|Emile.Roux: If not, then we will have more than words.
Cody.Faulkner: And then what? Become thugs? Be spit and kicked on the streets for being 'Gauls'?
Cody.Faulkner: You do not know how people can be racist in Sirius.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Do you see here? Starvation and constant death? At least in Sirius they may have a chance of survival.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Nothing but death and abysmal poverty awaits here...
Cody.Faulkner: For what price?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Not until we rid Gallia of her tyrant.
Cody.Faulkner: I have seen one gaul in Sirius.
Cody.Faulkner: Just once, when I arrived incognito.
Cody.Faulkner: Grabbed by shirt by officers, beaten with their batons then left to die - just because he was Gaul and Gaul killed officers' families.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And now you have a taste of what happens in Gallia daily. Except it is more indiscriminate.
Cody.Faulkner: ...
|LF|Emile.Roux: The GRP will kill whomever they wish. Because it is their duty to Le Roi.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And to secure their position in society as the lapdogs of nobility.
|LF|Emile.Roux: If you are not of a noble house, your life is forfeit.
Cody.Faulkner: *Is starting to listen.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: You know what happened when people tried to change things? Peacefully advocate for some say in the people?
Cody.Faulkner: I assume the very same thing that happened in Rheinland.
|LF|Emile.Roux: The members of the political movement were rounded up and summarily executed, with the survivors driven to the Border Worlds.
|LF|Emile.Roux: A mass slaughter of civilians even suspected of dealing with the group.
Cody.Faulkner: Sounds fun. *Sarcasm.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: Thousands died in weeks.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And many more were imprisoned.
|LF|Emile.Roux: The remnants of that group became The Council you see today.
Cody.Faulkner: Okay, if I start to help you out, you will stop yapping about the ideals and all these stuff?
|LF|Emile.Roux: That is enough for me, Sirian.
Cody.Faulkner: Name's Faulkner.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Emile Roux, as I told you before.
Cody.Faulkner: *Coughs.* Very... well.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Good... Good.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Please provide the refugees with proper food and water.
Cody.Faulkner: Very well. *Coughs violently.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: Now. I think we may have company. You best get moving soon.
Cody.Faulkner: Will do.
***
Cody.Faulkner: I can offer different place than Liberty.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Hm?
Cody.Faulkner: Gran Canaria in Omega-49. *Opens the map.* It's a completely free land of ones called Zoners.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Zoners... The name sounds familiar.
Cody.Faulkner: True, it's not paradise as all fugitives, criminals and alike are there... but... It's close to the paradise.
Cody.Faulkner: *Coughs.* Scheisse...
|LF|Emile.Roux: Good... good.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Now. I shall escort you back to the jumphole.
Cody.Faulkner: Lorraine Jumphole would do.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Oui. So long as you hold true to your promise.
|LF|Emile.Roux: You may send us a comm on our frequencies to confirm delivery.
Cody.Faulkner: *Stays silent.*
Cody.Faulkner: Very well.
|LF|Emile.Roux: If we do not see such proof... We will remember.
Cody.Faulkner: Do not worry. I do not like to make enemies.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Au revoir, Monsieur Faulkner. Go do the revolution's work.
Cody.Faulkner: I do it for the money only... Perhaps.
|LF|Emile.Roux: A Sirian...
|LF|Emile.Roux: You will stop. Now.
Cody.Faulkner: Oh! Excuse me!
Cody.Faulkner: Will do.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Tell me what you're doing here. Now.
Cody.Faulkner: Just doing some business, that's... all.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Business? With who?
Cody.Faulkner: Ah. Maquis... Who are you?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I am Emile Roux, of La Fraternite du Serment du Jeu de Paume.
|LF|Emile.Roux: One of the true freedom fighters of Gallia.
Cody.Faulkner: I meant... Who are the Maqui... oh.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Tell me where this cargo is headed. Now.
Cody.Faulkner: To Versailles, sadly.
|LF|Emile.Roux: No. It is not.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is headed to Champagne.
Cody.Faulkner: Oh?
Cody.Faulkner: *Thinks.* Very well.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is headed to aid true Gauls.
Cody.Faulkner: How the hell flowers are going to aid anyone?
|LF|Emile.Roux: You will follow my vessel, and if you stray, I will end your life.
Cody.Faulkner: Hold on, chill down.
|LF|Emile.Roux: You are contributing to the Royalist economy, and therefore aiding the Crown.
Cody.Faulkner: What if it is put into private hands?
|LF|Emile.Roux: You clearly do not know about Gallia...
|LF|Emile.Roux: Those private hands are also nobles and pigs supporting the Crown.
Cody.Faulkner: Hm.
Cody.Faulkner: So, you are telling me, 90% of Gauls are, well, Nobles?
Cody.Faulkner: *Crosses his arms.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: The ones who import from Sirius are usually such.
Cody.Faulkner: Hm. How much does Champagne pays for that?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I do not know. But the revolution is not about payment, Sirian.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is about fighting for our freedom.
Cody.Faulkner: Revolution doesn't fill the bowl, Gaul.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And I have little patience for greed that lines the pockets of the oppressors.
|LF|Emile.Roux: We Maquis are not like our Council brothers.
Cody.Faulkner: ... Okay, this message I got.
Cody.Faulkner: Lead the way.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Oui. Follow me.
|LF|Emile.Roux: What little do you know of our country, Sirian? Something must bring you here.
Cody.Faulkner: To be honest, I'm off the touch with all Sirius.
|LF|Emile.Roux: I do not understand. Explain.
Cody.Faulkner: I've spent a lot of time in the Edge Worlds... You know where Edge Worlds are, right?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I have heard of them.
|LF|Emile.Roux: It is where your sickening Outcasts live, non?
Cody.Faulkner: Even further.
|LF|Emile.Roux: I hope you are on okay terms with Le Conseil.
Cody.Faulkner: Never met them, so I do not really know.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Merde... Hurry, Sirian.
Cody.Faulkner: Have you seen these blips?
|LF|Emile.Roux: That is the Gallic Royal Police. Bastards who would kill you for being here.
|LF|Emile.Roux: We are nearing the jump hole...
|LF|Emile.Roux: You can see a Council base here.
Cody.Faulkner: I sadly must admit that, unlike you, I can easily escape Royals.
|LF|Emile.Roux: I see the odd device you bear on your vessel. I have seen its use before.
Cody.Faulkner: Indeed.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Here it is, Sirian. The capital of freedom in Gallia. Choked to death by the royals.
Cody.Faulkner: Must be nice place.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Millions suffering and languishing, all for the price of freedom.
|LF|Emile.Roux: All because the debauched nobility and their corrupt institutes of governance and domination.
Cody.Faulkner: I'm not into politics.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Because of, even.
|LF|Emile.Roux: No. But perhaps you realize suffering. And the scale of it.
Cody.Faulkner: ...
|LF|Emile.Roux: Do you see now? It is not thousands.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Not hundreds of thousands.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Not even single millions.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Tens of millions.
Cody.Faulkner: If you are going to throw the numbers, it will not impress me.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Step on to the surface and it will be seen.
Cody.Faulkner: Because all of us, somewhere, are hit by someone else. It's life. And you cannot cease it.
|LF|Emile.Roux: No. But we may fight against evil where it rises.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Battles may never end. But to stop fighting is to lose them.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And defeat is the ruin of all that is good.
Cody.Faulkner: Sadly, I believe in nothing else but myself.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And why is that?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Why can you not believe in something larger?
[[DATA CORRUPTED, RESETING DEVICE, INITIATING BACKUP COPY.]]
|LF|Emile.Roux: Sacre bleu... Ions.
Cody.Faulkner: A serious ones indeed.
Cody.Faulkner: My recent maps just got wiped out.
Cody.Faulkner: Scheisse... *Murmurs.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: Planet Marne contains many suffering. Desperate to leave. You would do well to pay attention.
Cody.Faulkner: Do you think I care about other people?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I think your basic sentience and empathetic functions are still in proper working order, Sirian.
Cody.Faulkner: Yes, it sounds wrong. But I care only about myself and the closest relatives.
Cody.Faulkner: You speak 'Sirian' as if it was an insult.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Because you Sirians have never understood the gravity of our plight.
Cody.Faulkner: We do have enough of our own matters.
|LF|Emile.Roux: All you see are your petty politics and revolutionary stalemates.
|LF|Emile.Roux: While millions languish and perish constantly in our homes, here...
Cody.Faulkner: Hm. At least device is in one piece and working...
Cody.Faulkner: Oh, spare me the tearjerking stories.
Cody.Faulkner: Don't you think I've heard enough of them?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Go to the planet. Drop off your cargo. And merely walk through.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And look around you.
***
Cody.Faulkner: I am back. And?
|LF|Emile.Roux: The starving children whose bones are the only mark of a living being, poking through their skin.
|LF|Emile.Roux: The men who have lost limb and soul for their freedom.
|LF|Emile.Roux: But I see you have no soul.
Cody.Faulkner: It's not lack of soul.
Cody.Faulkner: It is years in Edge Worlds, not to mention other things.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Your baseless, corrupt mind is not uncommon to me. Merely angering and disappointing.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Perhaps that is how I can get you to stop supporting the tyrants, thenn.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Then, even.
Cody.Faulkner: I do not support government.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Did you see the various refugee camps littering the surface?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Assuming you did not look over suffering.
Cody.Faulkner: And? So what?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Those refugees have a desire to escape this wartorn House.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And there are individuals in Libertie and other Houses willing to pay much for their safety.
Cody.Faulkner: Death would be better for them in certain cases.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Death would be a mercy to scum like you. But you have your uses.
Cody.Faulkner: And, what makes you think they won't be just gathered into experiments?
Cody.Faulkner: Or pushed into slavery?
|LF|Emile.Roux: I assume you have conscience enough to ensure they are placed in the right hands.
|LF|Emile.Roux: If not, then we will have more than words.
Cody.Faulkner: And then what? Become thugs? Be spit and kicked on the streets for being 'Gauls'?
Cody.Faulkner: You do not know how people can be racist in Sirius.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Do you see here? Starvation and constant death? At least in Sirius they may have a chance of survival.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Nothing but death and abysmal poverty awaits here...
Cody.Faulkner: For what price?
|LF|Emile.Roux: Not until we rid Gallia of her tyrant.
Cody.Faulkner: I have seen one gaul in Sirius.
Cody.Faulkner: Just once, when I arrived incognito.
Cody.Faulkner: Grabbed by shirt by officers, beaten with their batons then left to die - just because he was Gaul and Gaul killed officers' families.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And now you have a taste of what happens in Gallia daily. Except it is more indiscriminate.
Cody.Faulkner: ...
|LF|Emile.Roux: The GRP will kill whomever they wish. Because it is their duty to Le Roi.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And to secure their position in society as the lapdogs of nobility.
|LF|Emile.Roux: If you are not of a noble house, your life is forfeit.
Cody.Faulkner: *Is starting to listen.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: You know what happened when people tried to change things? Peacefully advocate for some say in the people?
Cody.Faulkner: I assume the very same thing that happened in Rheinland.
|LF|Emile.Roux: The members of the political movement were rounded up and summarily executed, with the survivors driven to the Border Worlds.
|LF|Emile.Roux: A mass slaughter of civilians even suspected of dealing with the group.
Cody.Faulkner: Sounds fun. *Sarcasm.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: Thousands died in weeks.
|LF|Emile.Roux: And many more were imprisoned.
|LF|Emile.Roux: The remnants of that group became The Council you see today.
Cody.Faulkner: Okay, if I start to help you out, you will stop yapping about the ideals and all these stuff?
|LF|Emile.Roux: That is enough for me, Sirian.
Cody.Faulkner: Name's Faulkner.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Emile Roux, as I told you before.
Cody.Faulkner: *Coughs.* Very... well.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Good... Good.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Please provide the refugees with proper food and water.
Cody.Faulkner: Very well. *Coughs violently.*
|LF|Emile.Roux: Now. I think we may have company. You best get moving soon.
Cody.Faulkner: Will do.
***
Cody.Faulkner: I can offer different place than Liberty.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Hm?
Cody.Faulkner: Gran Canaria in Omega-49. *Opens the map.* It's a completely free land of ones called Zoners.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Zoners... The name sounds familiar.
Cody.Faulkner: True, it's not paradise as all fugitives, criminals and alike are there... but... It's close to the paradise.
Cody.Faulkner: *Coughs.* Scheisse...
|LF|Emile.Roux: Good... good.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Now. I shall escort you back to the jumphole.
Cody.Faulkner: Lorraine Jumphole would do.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Oui. So long as you hold true to your promise.
|LF|Emile.Roux: You may send us a comm on our frequencies to confirm delivery.
Cody.Faulkner: *Stays silent.*
Cody.Faulkner: Very well.
|LF|Emile.Roux: If we do not see such proof... We will remember.
Cody.Faulkner: Do not worry. I do not like to make enemies.
|LF|Emile.Roux: Au revoir, Monsieur Faulkner. Go do the revolution's work.
Cody.Faulkner: I do it for the money only... Perhaps.
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 03-26-2016
Log #2
<<<Course: Cortez Jumpgate; Manchester.>>>
<<<Warning: Friendly IFF detected.>>>
Cody Faulkner: Oh, good day Mr Hunt.
Joshua Hunt: Hello again.
Cody Faulkner: How's business?
Joshua Hunt: Well, two dead Corsair Battleships.
Joshua Hunt: Think business is well.
Cody Faulkner: Indeed.
Cody Faulkner: Hmmmm...
Joshua Hunt: You know.
Joshua Hunt: I never got your name.
Cody Faulkner: I have a strange feeling you are after bounties.
Joshua Hunt: No, I'm no mercenary.
Cody Faulkner: Ah. I see...
Cody Faulkner: Well...
Joshua Hunt: Keeping my skills sharp.
Cody Faulkner: Hm... *Sighs.* Cody Faulkner.
Joshua Hunt: Ah. Well, it's nice to meet you.
Joshua Hunt: I might have need of your services in the future, so I hope you'll keep an open mind.
Cody Faulkner: Oh?
Joshua Hunt: Indeed.
Cody Faulkner: Sounds interesting enough for someone who bears quite... em... remarkable identifications.
Joshua Hunt: Well, in any case, stay out of trouble.
Cody Faulkner: I'll try. See ya.
Joshua Hunt: Take care.
<<<Warning: Jumping sequence initiated.>>>
---
<<<Warning: Unknown IFF detected.>>>
Cody Faulkner: Eh? A Jelly...
Abiyamuta: ***...'ours' not -foe-...***
Cody Faulkner: *Shrugs.*
<<<Course: Barrier Gate Station; Coronado.>>>
<<<Warning: Unknown IFF detected.>>>
<<<Warning: Neutral IFF detected.>>>
Abiyamuta: ***... 'yours' is -foe- [Luke Prescott] (?)...***
Luke Prescott: Hmm?
Cody Faulkner: I think it is asking you about if you are the bad guy.
Cody Faulkner: Well, we both are to some extent.
Luke Prescott: 'Bad guy'? I wouldn't call myself that.
Abiyamuta: ***... 'ours' (disdain) 'lawbringers' of ~Darkvoids~ too ...***
Cody Faulkner: Well, we butcher weaker guys, aren't we?
Cody Faulkner: Or extort and use others for our own gain...
Cody Faulkner: It reminds me, Mr Prescott... that's the name, right?
Luke Prescott: Aye.
Cody Faulkner: Wanna buy a slave from me?
Luke Prescott: Slaves? No thanks.
Cody Faulkner: Oh.
Cody Faulkner: Too bad.
Luke Prescott: Actually... Yeah, sure.
Abiyamuta: ***...'yours' think -outgunned- against 'lawbringers' (?)...***
Luke Prescott: How much for one?
Cody Faulkner: Hey, don't tell me you are former slav- oh.
Cody Faulkner: Hmmm... What would you prefer? Men? Women? People have different preferences.
Luke Prescott: Hmm... I suppose a woman would do just fine.
Abiyamuta: ***...'ours' -vanish- 'yours' not -interests- of 'ours'...***
Cody Faulkner: Oh, that blue thing is still out there...
Cody Faulkner: Oh, whatever.
Cody Faulkner: Hm... Kusarian or Libertonian?
Luke Prescott: Hmm... Surprise me.
Cody Faulkner: Hmmm... This one should do. How much would you give for a slave, honestly?
Luke Prescott: Hmm... Would a thousand suffice?
Cody Faulkner: For such a young mare? No way, what about three thousand?
Luke Prescott: Young? Hmm... Alright, done. Three-thousand it is, then.
<<<Account: +3000 SCr income registered.>>>
Cody Faulkner: A fair deal, Mr Prescott.
Luke Prescott: Indeed.
Cody Faulkner: If you'd like... more... hm... gimme a call.
Luke Prescott: I will keep it in mind.
Cody Faulkner: *Pushes a digital note.*
Cody Faulkner: Contact Faulkner Estate, if you need anything.
Cody Faulkner: Oh yes. Have fun with... your purchase.
<<<Course: Baffin Stellar Anomaly; Coronado.>>>
<<<Warning: Vessel in close proximity of anomaly.>>>
---
<<<Course: Planet Malta; Omicron Alpha.>>>
<<<Warning: In orbit of Planet Malta>>>
<<<Warning: Friendly IFF detected.>>>
Cody Faulkner: Good day!
Cody Faulkner: Hm. Not so talkative...
Alice Caponi: "I am.. Was just mixed up in something."
Cody Faulkner: Ah, I see then.
Alice Caponi: "Saluti, pilot."
Cody Faulkner: Well, good day as I already said.
Alice Caponi: "So.. what brings you to malta?"
Cody Faulkner: Business of course. I have new 'workers'.
Alice Caponi: "Hmm.. Just get them away from me. I dont approve of that aspect of our culture, mind you."
Cody Faulkner: Oh? But those aren't slaves. They are, um, free time workers. Or something. I don't go into business much.
Alice Caponi: "Im a smuggler, friend. I can taste a lie when i see them."
Cody Faulkner: So we have something in common.
Alice Caponi: "Apparantly."
Alice Caponi: *She smiles.*
Cody Faulkner: Well then, I will need some sleep after that. *He yawns.* Today was a pretty busy day.
Alice Caponi: Was it?
Cody Faulkner: Indeed.
Alice Caponi: "So, why exactly would you traffic your fellow human beings, if you dont mind me asking?"
Cody Faulkner: All I care is money, if you ask me.
Cody Faulkner: They? They were unlucky enough to not to pay dues, fines, were forced out of home, caught and perhaps even tortured.
Cody Faulkner: Do I care? Well...
Alice Caponi: "That sounds awfully brutish."
Cody Faulkner: They are all but mere statistic to me. I care only about my clients, myself, money and my closest allies.
Alice Caponi: "So you are one of those cold, brutish, dont-care-about-the-world people?"
Cody Faulkner: Brutish, I wouldn't say that since I don't stand in first line. Cold, perhaps.
Alice Caponi: "You should be mindfull as to who you make that apparant too.. however."
Alice Caponi: "I might not mind that much.. but there are people who will blast you for it."
Cody Faulkner: It depends on who I met, I suppose.
Alice Caponi: "I suppose.. but i have to pick up my cardamine now."
Alice Caponi: "Stay safe."
<<<Warning: Mooring procedure initiated.>>>
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 04-04-2016
Diary #3
As Whitehall said, the process has not been successful. Like other subjects, I suffer several side-effects from conciousness implantion into semi-artificial genetically created body. However, I am not sure how to feel about that. I'm healthy, yet time to time I wish I could kill myself due to coughing and pains in my left hand. However, it is still better than being in a broken body and dying on some random street on Stuttgart after tripping over a damn trash onto road.
Time to time, I look into mirror and ask myself "what in the hell are you?", it being more a rhetoretical question. Imperfect hybrid body made from genetic manipulations with my conciousness implanted via biomechanical chip connected to the brain. Scary stuff, I say. Hell, it is more like a damn voodoo magic for me, not an actual medical science, as it was offered to me all these years ago.
But seclusion is now what I need, away from the public eyes, hiding under 'fatherly cloak' of Whitehall, which believes so much that his creations are his mere children. I do not know what is way more sick in that case: all these experiments he concluded or the fact he indeed believes himself being a "loving father". It makes me feeling terrible just thinking about it and want to throw up. At least I haven't ended up in a machine, unable to feel anything.
So, in fact... I cannot be bothered with the fact I'm different now. It's bad, yes, but still... I retained the ability to think, to feel, to... love. To be sad and be happy. Hell, I'm glad I can still eat normal things - even if in most cases it is that crappy Synth Paste. At least this is what is left from my former self. Which is going for me nicely. Still better than nothing, I pressume.
Now, back to that Molly captive. He hasn't seen my face yet, he just heard my voice only. Mine and Whitehall's. I will surprise him and scare him the hell off - which isn't the worst thing that will happen to him.
Time to time, I look into mirror and ask myself "what in the hell are you?", it being more a rhetoretical question. Imperfect hybrid body made from genetic manipulations with my conciousness implanted via biomechanical chip connected to the brain. Scary stuff, I say. Hell, it is more like a damn voodoo magic for me, not an actual medical science, as it was offered to me all these years ago.
But seclusion is now what I need, away from the public eyes, hiding under 'fatherly cloak' of Whitehall, which believes so much that his creations are his mere children. I do not know what is way more sick in that case: all these experiments he concluded or the fact he indeed believes himself being a "loving father". It makes me feeling terrible just thinking about it and want to throw up. At least I haven't ended up in a machine, unable to feel anything.
So, in fact... I cannot be bothered with the fact I'm different now. It's bad, yes, but still... I retained the ability to think, to feel, to... love. To be sad and be happy. Hell, I'm glad I can still eat normal things - even if in most cases it is that crappy Synth Paste. At least this is what is left from my former self. Which is going for me nicely. Still better than nothing, I pressume.
Now, back to that Molly captive. He hasn't seen my face yet, he just heard my voice only. Mine and Whitehall's. I will surprise him and scare him the hell off - which isn't the worst thing that will happen to him.
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 04-05-2016
Diary #4
Irony.
This is the only word that comes to my mind, noticing at which point I have started and at which point I am right now. From a criminal for Veritas purposes into a Bounty Hunters - sort of also for purposes of Whitehall and my own. I would risk the statement this is way more profitable than working for criminals.
However, this might be the best smokescreen for the things I'm going to introduce sooner or later - also making more shadow for my own Estate and the Veritas' business. I am not sure why Whitehall went a bit more silent, perhaps doing even more business for Veritas, losing interest into me... I cannot say; he fixed my eye with some sort of mumbo-jumbo high-tech cybernetic implant.
Junker Congress, I have dealt with these guys before, but their feud with Ageira is a complete novum. However, I must dig a bit about Liberty Navy's captains and officers being in pocket of The Congress, since captain of that ship I've met in Texas was not really concerned about the fact Ageira presented the evidence - hell, I would even say they wanted to shut the case down. Thankfully, the Primary Fleet came and whole situation was clarified in their presence. But then, what happened next? This, I don't know. Ageira and I left, with myself being paid for keeping that Junker away from active Trade Lane.
Hell, back then I thought both Ageira and Navy would start shooting at each other, which was not a really pleasant thought. To think about it, it would make more fuss for Ageira rather than help them. Well, it is not interest of mine until the case surfaces again or Ageira asks me to keep an eye on The Congress again. There is indeed something fishy with the latter.
The Slaver's Union... Yes, they became picky and more dangerous than I suspected. But then, I saw them doing business with Lane Hackers. Actually, I am not even mad about that, as they somehow erased logs we both had. Yet I have even fatter evidence to harass The Union; With Liberty Government not willing to deal with them, I poked my "new friends" - if I can call them like that. Time will tell, but until then, my old bases might not welcome me as before and ties might be torn apart.
Hm, what's this? I got a message. I wonder...
This is the only word that comes to my mind, noticing at which point I have started and at which point I am right now. From a criminal for Veritas purposes into a Bounty Hunters - sort of also for purposes of Whitehall and my own. I would risk the statement this is way more profitable than working for criminals.
However, this might be the best smokescreen for the things I'm going to introduce sooner or later - also making more shadow for my own Estate and the Veritas' business. I am not sure why Whitehall went a bit more silent, perhaps doing even more business for Veritas, losing interest into me... I cannot say; he fixed my eye with some sort of mumbo-jumbo high-tech cybernetic implant.
Junker Congress, I have dealt with these guys before, but their feud with Ageira is a complete novum. However, I must dig a bit about Liberty Navy's captains and officers being in pocket of The Congress, since captain of that ship I've met in Texas was not really concerned about the fact Ageira presented the evidence - hell, I would even say they wanted to shut the case down. Thankfully, the Primary Fleet came and whole situation was clarified in their presence. But then, what happened next? This, I don't know. Ageira and I left, with myself being paid for keeping that Junker away from active Trade Lane.
Hell, back then I thought both Ageira and Navy would start shooting at each other, which was not a really pleasant thought. To think about it, it would make more fuss for Ageira rather than help them. Well, it is not interest of mine until the case surfaces again or Ageira asks me to keep an eye on The Congress again. There is indeed something fishy with the latter.
The Slaver's Union... Yes, they became picky and more dangerous than I suspected. But then, I saw them doing business with Lane Hackers. Actually, I am not even mad about that, as they somehow erased logs we both had. Yet I have even fatter evidence to harass The Union; With Liberty Government not willing to deal with them, I poked my "new friends" - if I can call them like that. Time will tell, but until then, my old bases might not welcome me as before and ties might be torn apart.
Hm, what's this? I got a message. I wonder...
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 04-06-2016
Supplementary #1
Moreau was sitting at his chair, just next to the specimen. Instead of 'he', the professor used 'it'. He also refused to call 'it' by name, using nothing more but a code: C78F, made of initial letters and subject number - catalogued no matter if subject ended up stable or was put to be terminated. Cody obviously was 78th attempt in all these experiments.
Jeoffrey Moreau, born on Planet New London and studied at Cambridge, after year or two banned for his outrageous claims, called madman and nature profanator. It hadn't never bother him, opened away. Then, the Organization came out of nowhere, offering huge money - which he did not want. All he had wanted was the ability to put his theory into practice. To prove all of those idiots from Cambridge University wrong.
And now? He was sitting next to 'it'. C78F - the one of the most wonderful creations created by Werner Whitehall, with Moreau being the mere assistance. But their creation was in terrible state: it laying onto bed, with amputated leg covered by white bandages, unconcious and given so much painkillers it would actually make a huge animal faint right away. The pain for 'it' was unbearable, so Moreau had to cease it. But it wasn't from compassion. He did not want to lose the almost perfect material and proof of his thesis, once claimed nothing more but voodoo magic. "Them fools," he murmurred, noting something on his pocket device. Waiting.
But then, this 'thing' on the bed, although in a bad shape, was there. 'It' was a proof, the living proof all the theories were right. Yet Joeffrey denied any though that this 'thing' could be as equal as any other Sirian, even with most true feeling of identity, implanted into this customly-designed body. C78F was a huge success and the finest milestone for him and Whitehall. "A son?" Joeffrey said to himself, smiling. "You are a great fool, Werner. This 'thing' is all but mere evidence that I was right and they were wrong."
The middle-aged man looked at the screen, showing the life signs of 'thing'. They were stable as if nothing happened. "And you... You will never integrate into society made of humans - normal Sirians. Denied and hunted by all the people claiming you are either a fine piece for a rug or an ungodly creation made by man. As for me, you are nothing but a plaything. And if you fail... I will pull the plug without any compassion or affection like that fool, Whitehall, seems to show."
Jeoffrey Moreau, born on Planet New London and studied at Cambridge, after year or two banned for his outrageous claims, called madman and nature profanator. It hadn't never bother him, opened away. Then, the Organization came out of nowhere, offering huge money - which he did not want. All he had wanted was the ability to put his theory into practice. To prove all of those idiots from Cambridge University wrong.
And now? He was sitting next to 'it'. C78F - the one of the most wonderful creations created by Werner Whitehall, with Moreau being the mere assistance. But their creation was in terrible state: it laying onto bed, with amputated leg covered by white bandages, unconcious and given so much painkillers it would actually make a huge animal faint right away. The pain for 'it' was unbearable, so Moreau had to cease it. But it wasn't from compassion. He did not want to lose the almost perfect material and proof of his thesis, once claimed nothing more but voodoo magic. "Them fools," he murmurred, noting something on his pocket device. Waiting.
But then, this 'thing' on the bed, although in a bad shape, was there. 'It' was a proof, the living proof all the theories were right. Yet Joeffrey denied any though that this 'thing' could be as equal as any other Sirian, even with most true feeling of identity, implanted into this customly-designed body. C78F was a huge success and the finest milestone for him and Whitehall. "A son?" Joeffrey said to himself, smiling. "You are a great fool, Werner. This 'thing' is all but mere evidence that I was right and they were wrong."
The middle-aged man looked at the screen, showing the life signs of 'thing'. They were stable as if nothing happened. "And you... You will never integrate into society made of humans - normal Sirians. Denied and hunted by all the people claiming you are either a fine piece for a rug or an ungodly creation made by man. As for me, you are nothing but a plaything. And if you fail... I will pull the plug without any compassion or affection like that fool, Whitehall, seems to show."
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 04-09-2016
Supplementary #2
The middle-aged man closed his datapad after replying message to the Slaver's Union. His ego was clearly boosted, as someone else appreciated his - and Werner's - work. He smiled a bit then left the room. Moreau headed straight into cabin in which - battered, but still living - Cody was sitting. The fuzz looked at the man, puzzled. The other guy pulled out the syringe and pushed the needle inside small bottle. Cody looked away, knowing what it meant.
"Please... No..."
Moreau fixed eyes on the subject, raising his eyebrow. This was the very first time Cody even asked Moreau while not being under influence of medicine. "Please... what? Be more precise."
"No more medicine... I beg you... I will be obediant and I will not cause any more trouble to you. Just... Don't do that."
"You know I cannot allow you to be disobedient again," the man replied. "You had your chance and wasted it, going around and shooting criminals I could be doing business with." He walked closer to Cody, which did not even care to stay away from the doctor. "And you should know I don't care about you."
"You should... If Whitehall knows about it--"
"Werner would appreciate my decision and support it fully." Doctor frowned, his eyes now looking like pair of lines; He was still angry. "Now, give me your hand."
The non-human looked onto Moreau's face. "Please..."
This is when Moreau lost his patience and grabbed forcefully subject's hand. He did not care about his feelings, having no empathy for 'something' that just acts like human. He had no respect to him - the only feeling he felt about Cody was pride it was him and Whitehall which achieved successful chip implantation into lifeless and soul-less body. But C78F was just number for him. A subject - perfect one, but still a subject.
The needle was put into Cody's body, followed by slight but violent movement. "Stop moving, fool. If needle breaks, it will be very painful to pull it out..." The non-human stopped struggling, not only because it would be bad for him if application of medicine would happen again, but also first microliters of medicine already were injected into his body.
Cody's soul screamed, not wanting to be dull. Everything in his body told him to run, to throw Joeffrey's body away and stop this process. But, it was a mere while. After that, the fuzz stopped struggling as he felt nothing. Just serene silence... The serene silence which was more a prison of mind in which the one cannot express itself. The utter void.
"Now, C78F. How do you feel?" Moreau asked, pulling out the syringe with slight smile on his face. Another victory of science over disobedient 'thing'.
" ... This one feels fine, Sir. ... How can it be assistance today?" The monotonous voice announced that medicine from the bottle was already working.
"As always, we will check if this medicine does not affect your mental capabilities... If used for a longer period of mind." Whitehall would not be able to do that, Moreau said to himself. He perceived the other scientist as a figure, but then all he hated about him was a weak nature, too much compassion. "What about game of chess?"
" ... Game of chess. ... Yes. ... This one will gladly play the chess with you. ... Should it bring the chessboard and pieces?"
"Yes," the doctor nodded slowly, with Cody leaving for the items. "Good boy you are."
"Please... No..."
Moreau fixed eyes on the subject, raising his eyebrow. This was the very first time Cody even asked Moreau while not being under influence of medicine. "Please... what? Be more precise."
"No more medicine... I beg you... I will be obediant and I will not cause any more trouble to you. Just... Don't do that."
"You know I cannot allow you to be disobedient again," the man replied. "You had your chance and wasted it, going around and shooting criminals I could be doing business with." He walked closer to Cody, which did not even care to stay away from the doctor. "And you should know I don't care about you."
"You should... If Whitehall knows about it--"
"Werner would appreciate my decision and support it fully." Doctor frowned, his eyes now looking like pair of lines; He was still angry. "Now, give me your hand."
The non-human looked onto Moreau's face. "Please..."
This is when Moreau lost his patience and grabbed forcefully subject's hand. He did not care about his feelings, having no empathy for 'something' that just acts like human. He had no respect to him - the only feeling he felt about Cody was pride it was him and Whitehall which achieved successful chip implantation into lifeless and soul-less body. But C78F was just number for him. A subject - perfect one, but still a subject.
The needle was put into Cody's body, followed by slight but violent movement. "Stop moving, fool. If needle breaks, it will be very painful to pull it out..." The non-human stopped struggling, not only because it would be bad for him if application of medicine would happen again, but also first microliters of medicine already were injected into his body.
Cody's soul screamed, not wanting to be dull. Everything in his body told him to run, to throw Joeffrey's body away and stop this process. But, it was a mere while. After that, the fuzz stopped struggling as he felt nothing. Just serene silence... The serene silence which was more a prison of mind in which the one cannot express itself. The utter void.
"Now, C78F. How do you feel?" Moreau asked, pulling out the syringe with slight smile on his face. Another victory of science over disobedient 'thing'.
" ... This one feels fine, Sir. ... How can it be assistance today?" The monotonous voice announced that medicine from the bottle was already working.
"As always, we will check if this medicine does not affect your mental capabilities... If used for a longer period of mind." Whitehall would not be able to do that, Moreau said to himself. He perceived the other scientist as a figure, but then all he hated about him was a weak nature, too much compassion. "What about game of chess?"
" ... Game of chess. ... Yes. ... This one will gladly play the chess with you. ... Should it bring the chessboard and pieces?"
"Yes," the doctor nodded slowly, with Cody leaving for the items. "Good boy you are."
RE: Cody Faulkner - Jir So-Kinh - 04-17-2016
//Due to the recent rule, the roleplay will not include furry pictures inside Communication Center posts. If you see any, please ignore those, as they are caused by the fact that former avatar was a logo used in the older CC and now it might redirect to the new avatar.
//I made sure that relatively new-old posts had the issue removed, although I might have left a few. The newest CC posts will not have such an issue.
//I am sorry for incovenience.