+- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums)
+-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56)
+--- Thread: Imperfection (/showthread.php?tid=89006)
Pages:
1
2
Imperfection - Saerieve - 10-20-2012
Imperfection
It just felt like he was no more. Everything he had worked for, everything he had fought for, and everyone he had hope for were now gone in a flash. Him and his ship - His only faithful companion - now were both nothing but relics of a generation long gone by. It was all so sudden he couldn't really understand how it all started, and how it all happened, but he knew one thing - That it was all bitter truth. The only group of individuals he actually had respect for, had turned out to be nothing more than the self-obsessed cowards everyone else were. Giving up all their hope, all they had wasted generations fighting for, just for a miserable surrender in the end, crawling back to their hole in Chugoku, lying to themselves and everyone who believed in them, just to not admit their cowardliness.
"No reason to fight on two fronts while one can simply stay in the shadows and observe how the two major powers of the house tear eachother apart" they have said, but what he heard in those words was bitter taste of surrender as clear as the daylight. They pretended they had a goal, just like everyone else, and when they gave up on all they believed in, there they were, desperately trying their best to cover their defeat by hiding behind an unreal 'goal', to stay back while the Samura and their thugs weaken themselves and their enemies in their starvation for power... Something even the underlings of the Rising Sons could tell was nothing but a fake reason to give up. They spoke of staying hidden until the inner conflicts rip the Kusari government apart, claiming they would be able to build up a strength incomparable to what they are now, but in reality, they were just moles hiding behind a glorious 'belief' all along. Nothing but moles.
With no faith left in him, with no real friends and no true enemies, with no cause to fight for and no true purpose to live for, how could a man survive? But he has been through worse, much worse, and even though he had given up once, tasting the bitter sweet of surrender like no man ever has, he had learned that defeat is the one only unreal feeling in the universe - As in the end, it's nothing but his own decision. A decision he was not going to make again, because he had learned, the hard way, that in the end it carries nothing but regret. Now he knew, after the harsh road he had struggled through, that in the end he'd always have a purpose, he'd always have something to fight for, it was all just the matter of finding that purpose... And one thing he knew for sure, was finding his reason to live would never happen surrounded by a hoard of cowards.
"No reason to fight on two fronts while one can simply stay in the shadows and observe how the two major powers of the house tear eachother apart" they have said, but what he heard in those words was bitter taste of surrender as clear as the daylight. They pretended they had a goal, just like everyone else, and when they gave up on all they believed in, there they were, desperately trying their best to cover their defeat by hiding behind an unreal 'goal', to stay back while the Samura and their thugs weaken themselves and their enemies in their starvation for power... Something even the underlings of the Rising Sons could tell was nothing but a fake reason to give up. They spoke of staying hidden until the inner conflicts rip the Kusari government apart, claiming they would be able to build up a strength incomparable to what they are now, but in reality, they were just moles hiding behind a glorious 'belief' all along. Nothing but moles.
With no faith left in him, with no real friends and no true enemies, with no cause to fight for and no true purpose to live for, how could a man survive? But he has been through worse, much worse, and even though he had given up once, tasting the bitter sweet of surrender like no man ever has, he had learned that defeat is the one only unreal feeling in the universe - As in the end, it's nothing but his own decision. A decision he was not going to make again, because he had learned, the hard way, that in the end it carries nothing but regret. Now he knew, after the harsh road he had struggled through, that in the end he'd always have a purpose, he'd always have something to fight for, it was all just the matter of finding that purpose... And one thing he knew for sure, was finding his reason to live would never happen surrounded by a hoard of cowards.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 10-22-2012
Part I: Departure
His gear was packed, his decision was made, and right there he stood, staring at the room he knew he would not be seeing again. The same room that has been his calm shelter after numerous hunts, the same room that has been the ground for his most embarrassing surrender. But it was all over now, one thing he was sure of. He knew by stepping out of that room and never looking back, he could make his future what his past had never been. A flawless, glorious rule over his own world, free of weaknesses and attachments. He had prepared everything he needed, and one thing he took pride in was he had done it all on his own, not by asking favors from the cowards he had been working with for too long, thinking they're more than others, better than others. There was nothing to worry about as he had enough supplies to last him at least a week, enough fuel to get him across Kusari, no matter in which direction he'd have wanted to go, and his most precious possession, the repair details sheet he had managed to 'borrow' for his Katana.
Despite his high hopes, the truth was, he barely knew anyone outside Kusari anymore. The only group of individuals he could think of, who might had still had some help left in them, were the Red Hessians Army. That was his most probable plan, to make his way to Omegas and reclaim the set of Natterturns they had granted him long ago, nothing but an excuse so he could see whether the Hessians are still worth trusting, or have they changed as well. That was turning into a paranoia for him, trusting the same people who, knowingly or unknowingly, willingly or unwillingly, aware or unaware, would betray him just like his former 'allies' did. Unsure of the purpose of this journey, doubtful of his departure, and hesitant about nothing less than everything, it was the one thing he was sure about - Not to waste his trust on anyone anymore, just use them for his own gain and throw them away when they prove to be of use any longer.
Zipping up his flight suit, picking up his bag, and throwing one last glance at the prison of his memories, he knew he'd always remember, he'd never forget, and no matter how fast and how far he runs, every single moment of the three years he had left behind would still hunt him; But now he knew, that running is not an option, and it never was. Now, after confronting numerous hostiles, he was finally ready to confront himself and all he had been running away for too long.
Despite his high hopes, the truth was, he barely knew anyone outside Kusari anymore. The only group of individuals he could think of, who might had still had some help left in them, were the Red Hessians Army. That was his most probable plan, to make his way to Omegas and reclaim the set of Natterturns they had granted him long ago, nothing but an excuse so he could see whether the Hessians are still worth trusting, or have they changed as well. That was turning into a paranoia for him, trusting the same people who, knowingly or unknowingly, willingly or unwillingly, aware or unaware, would betray him just like his former 'allies' did. Unsure of the purpose of this journey, doubtful of his departure, and hesitant about nothing less than everything, it was the one thing he was sure about - Not to waste his trust on anyone anymore, just use them for his own gain and throw them away when they prove to be of use any longer.
Zipping up his flight suit, picking up his bag, and throwing one last glance at the prison of his memories, he knew he'd always remember, he'd never forget, and no matter how fast and how far he runs, every single moment of the three years he had left behind would still hunt him; But now he knew, that running is not an option, and it never was. Now, after confronting numerous hostiles, he was finally ready to confront himself and all he had been running away for too long.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-02-2012
Part II: Space, again
It felt like years since the last time he was in space - That's how slow the last two weeks had gone by for him. Drifting away from his old everyday hunting routine back when he still worked for the Dragons - A relic of the past now, just like himself - he missed the rush of adrenaline through his veins after his most challenging battles. Starting the engines on his Katana, every memory of a fight he'd had in Kusari rushed past his mind before he was even out of the airlocks.
The cloud was blocking the scanners just like always, and with the limited visibility, who knew what dangers there could be, out there a few clicks away. He repeated his plan for himself, moving through Kusari, and either heading toward Outcast space to get a fresh supply of Cardamine, or dropping by the Barrier to visit a few old friends, as after all, that was the place he had called "home" for a long time. Now, however, sitting there in his Katana, hidden deep inside the cloud that made Ryuku a safe hideout for anyone as notorious as him, all his plans seemed nothing but unlikely. He knew the only thing he wanted was moving out of Kusari, as fast as he could, hoping to successfully leave his past behind, but knowing no matter how far he ran, his memories would still be with him.
His course was set, Chugoku would be the last Kusari system he'd have to cross, and through there, he'd be in Sigmas, where soon - Taking the dangerous jumphole to Rheinland core space -, he'd be far from Kusari and anyone with a Kusari accent, hoping not to return to the endless blue of the house at least for a long time.
The cloud was blocking the scanners just like always, and with the limited visibility, who knew what dangers there could be, out there a few clicks away. He repeated his plan for himself, moving through Kusari, and either heading toward Outcast space to get a fresh supply of Cardamine, or dropping by the Barrier to visit a few old friends, as after all, that was the place he had called "home" for a long time. Now, however, sitting there in his Katana, hidden deep inside the cloud that made Ryuku a safe hideout for anyone as notorious as him, all his plans seemed nothing but unlikely. He knew the only thing he wanted was moving out of Kusari, as fast as he could, hoping to successfully leave his past behind, but knowing no matter how far he ran, his memories would still be with him.
His course was set, Chugoku would be the last Kusari system he'd have to cross, and through there, he'd be in Sigmas, where soon - Taking the dangerous jumphole to Rheinland core space -, he'd be far from Kusari and anyone with a Kusari accent, hoping not to return to the endless blue of the house at least for a long time.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-02-2012
Part III: The Endless Blue
Hesitant, with the jumphole right in front of him but the jump drives disengaged, something inside him didn't want him to leave. Turning his ship around and staring at the nothingness in front of him, right at the direction Kyoto should've been, his mind was blank. One thing he knew, was that he didn't want to turn his back on the same people he once respected. He wanted to take his leave, staring right at them. Putting his ship on reverse, he waited until the ship was positioned right in the middle of the jumphole, with his eyes still locked on the Kyoto he couldn't see. running his finger on the console, he knew exactly which key he needed to touch to end this hesitation, and as he felt a sudden pull on his ship, with the dark cloud in front of him turning into fade colors quickly passing by, he knew he'd be in Sigmas in no time.
He didn't like the blue in Kusari, it was just now that he actually thought about it. One thing he missed the most was the endless red in Bretonia, even their rainy planets he never put feet on. With all that in his mind, he still was stuck in the endless blue of Kusari outskirts, with explosive gas clouds surrounding him and even the Junkers in the system having a taste of Kusari accent in their voice - No matter how much they 'claimed' they despite the house and everyone in it. Pathetic hypocrisy was the only thing he saw, every time he had to dock on Yanagi, knowing every single soul on that base feels dependent to the same chunk of space they claimed to hate.. Just like many other, who had nothing to believe in, and yet, hid their desperation behind a worn-out mask of goal and reason. But with no friends anymore, he didn't need any more enemies, and with Junkers being the only group with enough knowledge to maintain his ship and gear, he knew he needed to stay on their good side, no matter how much he despised them, no matter how pathetic they looked to him.
He was already on cruise, heading to one of the most dangerous jumpholes he knew about.. With Wilde crawling around the both sides of it, he already had his weapons ready, knowing he'd willingly fight his way past those creatures in human skin if he had to. The closer he got to the jumphole, he heavier he felt his heart beating, but indifferent was the only thing he was. The hatred he had for Nomads, the disgust he felt toward what they could do to humans, and remembering how they had used him and the only one who had mattered to him for their own gain, left him in the vacuum between feeling powerful and powerless, and it was not the first time he was lost in his feelings.
He didn't like the blue in Kusari, it was just now that he actually thought about it. One thing he missed the most was the endless red in Bretonia, even their rainy planets he never put feet on. With all that in his mind, he still was stuck in the endless blue of Kusari outskirts, with explosive gas clouds surrounding him and even the Junkers in the system having a taste of Kusari accent in their voice - No matter how much they 'claimed' they despite the house and everyone in it. Pathetic hypocrisy was the only thing he saw, every time he had to dock on Yanagi, knowing every single soul on that base feels dependent to the same chunk of space they claimed to hate.. Just like many other, who had nothing to believe in, and yet, hid their desperation behind a worn-out mask of goal and reason. But with no friends anymore, he didn't need any more enemies, and with Junkers being the only group with enough knowledge to maintain his ship and gear, he knew he needed to stay on their good side, no matter how much he despised them, no matter how pathetic they looked to him.
He was already on cruise, heading to one of the most dangerous jumpholes he knew about.. With Wilde crawling around the both sides of it, he already had his weapons ready, knowing he'd willingly fight his way past those creatures in human skin if he had to. The closer he got to the jumphole, he heavier he felt his heart beating, but indifferent was the only thing he was. The hatred he had for Nomads, the disgust he felt toward what they could do to humans, and remembering how they had used him and the only one who had mattered to him for their own gain, left him in the vacuum between feeling powerful and powerless, and it was not the first time he was lost in his feelings.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-03-2012
Part IV: Land of Eleven Turtles
Using lanes inside the house space.. He did miss the feeling, but he couldn't take any chances. It's been a few years, but didn't mean everyone had forgotten him and every record of him was gone. Rheinland being the friendliest house to Kusari, and with the reputation he had, running into trouble with the authorities wasn't unlikely. Which was why he had decided to stay away from the lanes, heading to the sector he remembered a Junker base in. He still remembered the system, even though he didn't have the house mapped on his Katana. He clearly remembered the Junker base right in the middle of that north western scrap field, but one thing he couldn't remember was the name. He never liked Rheinland names, neither how they looked, nor the way they sounded. Rheinland words had no ring to them, it didn't make one enjoy pronouncing them, it merely sounded like the one speaking them was in pain, was suffering from saying those words out loud.
The last time he was in Rheinland, he had nothing to do with Outcasts and he had even made a few friends among the Unioners and Hessians.. But now, with him being a Cardamine consumer, he didn't know how would the Hessians - who hate Outcasts - and the Unioners - who with all the rumors flying around, were becoming closer and closer to Sairs each day - treat him. He wasn't afraid of being rejected, but he knew for sure that anyone with the smallest interest in Kusari or Bretonia would've already heard of him, so he wasn't afraid of fighting for his status in Rheinland, just like the way he did in two of the other houses. Hessians were one of the few groups he wanted to stay on the good side of, because at least some of them, seemed to believe in what they had been fighting for, and on top of that, because they owed him some guns. He knew the gear he had managed to get from the Council wouldn't last long in this corner of Sirius, so he had to work out a substitute, and from all his options, reclaiming the Natterturns he had once been granted seemed to be the best option.
With the base appearing on the scanners right where he remembered it to be, one thing he could tell he needed the most was a cold drink. The beer they served in Rheinland was something he could call 'original', and not an excuse of a drink like the ale they drank in Liberty. The bar was his first stop, because he knew the best spot to find new contacts and get updated on all the news in the region, was a shady watering hole aboard a not-so-lawful craphole owned by Junkers, where every single greedy bastard and dirty lowlife would drop by to get some business going. That was exactly the kind of place he needed to visit.
The last time he was in Rheinland, he had nothing to do with Outcasts and he had even made a few friends among the Unioners and Hessians.. But now, with him being a Cardamine consumer, he didn't know how would the Hessians - who hate Outcasts - and the Unioners - who with all the rumors flying around, were becoming closer and closer to Sairs each day - treat him. He wasn't afraid of being rejected, but he knew for sure that anyone with the smallest interest in Kusari or Bretonia would've already heard of him, so he wasn't afraid of fighting for his status in Rheinland, just like the way he did in two of the other houses. Hessians were one of the few groups he wanted to stay on the good side of, because at least some of them, seemed to believe in what they had been fighting for, and on top of that, because they owed him some guns. He knew the gear he had managed to get from the Council wouldn't last long in this corner of Sirius, so he had to work out a substitute, and from all his options, reclaiming the Natterturns he had once been granted seemed to be the best option.
With the base appearing on the scanners right where he remembered it to be, one thing he could tell he needed the most was a cold drink. The beer they served in Rheinland was something he could call 'original', and not an excuse of a drink like the ale they drank in Liberty. The bar was his first stop, because he knew the best spot to find new contacts and get updated on all the news in the region, was a shady watering hole aboard a not-so-lawful craphole owned by Junkers, where every single greedy bastard and dirty lowlife would drop by to get some business going. That was exactly the kind of place he needed to visit.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-03-2012
Part V: The Junkyard
It's been long since the last time he had spent time in a bar, especially one filled with scum. All those suspicious glances, hostile stares, nothing he had missed about places like this. Walking straight to the bar, he knew what happened to strangers in such places, especially ones with valuable cargo or unique ships. That's one thing he hated about Zoner bars - No weapons allowed, and yet, the ones with right contacts could always smuggle a handgun in with no trouble. Junker bases however, was a complete free-for-all. People could grab whatever they wanted long as they didn't make a mess of it, and those unlucky enough not to make it, simply ended up being the poor victims of "airlock malfunction", with no one really asking questions about how any of it happened.
A bottle of beer was the one thing he needed to keep things in perspective, and of course give him an excuse to get some useful information out of the bartender. Leaning toward the bar, with the bottle in his hands, he could easily hear the whispers behind his back. The bunch of scum probably talking about the stranger who had docked with a Katana less than half an hour ago, but clearly was not a Kusarian. He could bet all his cash that sooner or later someone would approach him, trying to start a small-talk just to get some answers out of him, to see who he is and where he's got the ship from. He was not a stranger to that place, but not with his new face. He looked nothing like the worthless pirate he was, back when he frequented that bar. No more leather jacket, no more jeans. Now he wouldn't take his flight suit off in public, so everyone could tell he's not a no-one.
He had learned the one secret to dealing with insecurity through the time he had spent in shady corners of Sirius - He knew the one way of feeling secured, was making everyone else feel unsecured. He knew the trick was to either ignore a hostile stare, or stare back long enough so the other stranger decides to finally break off and look away. That way, no one dared approach him, and that was enough time for him to get the bartender talking and find out about all he needed. The bartender wasn't the talkative type, or maybe he just wasn't friendly toward 'foreigners', but he finally told him about the ex-Hacker with a small equipment shop who could hack his ship's navmap for him and update it with charted files of surrounding star systems. That was his start, to make sure his memory won't fail him, and even if it does, a short glance at the navmap would solve the problem.
A bottle of beer was the one thing he needed to keep things in perspective, and of course give him an excuse to get some useful information out of the bartender. Leaning toward the bar, with the bottle in his hands, he could easily hear the whispers behind his back. The bunch of scum probably talking about the stranger who had docked with a Katana less than half an hour ago, but clearly was not a Kusarian. He could bet all his cash that sooner or later someone would approach him, trying to start a small-talk just to get some answers out of him, to see who he is and where he's got the ship from. He was not a stranger to that place, but not with his new face. He looked nothing like the worthless pirate he was, back when he frequented that bar. No more leather jacket, no more jeans. Now he wouldn't take his flight suit off in public, so everyone could tell he's not a no-one.
He had learned the one secret to dealing with insecurity through the time he had spent in shady corners of Sirius - He knew the one way of feeling secured, was making everyone else feel unsecured. He knew the trick was to either ignore a hostile stare, or stare back long enough so the other stranger decides to finally break off and look away. That way, no one dared approach him, and that was enough time for him to get the bartender talking and find out about all he needed. The bartender wasn't the talkative type, or maybe he just wasn't friendly toward 'foreigners', but he finally told him about the ex-Hacker with a small equipment shop who could hack his ship's navmap for him and update it with charted files of surrounding star systems. That was his start, to make sure his memory won't fail him, and even if it does, a short glance at the navmap would solve the problem.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-03-2012
Part VI: Old Friends, Old Guns
Unbelievable how quick the time passes. One day, he's in Omegas, ripping miners apart alongside a regular pirate masqueraded as a Hessian but in reality a no-one like himself, and what seems to be the next day, he's back in Omegas after a couple of years, while he's a known assassin and that Hessian is one of the leading figures of their revolutionary army. Bad choice for the job, a really bad choice. It's sad how most people mistake dedication for perfection. He knew the man long enough to know he'd stick to what he wanted, and he'd even kill for it but in the end, no matter how much he changes, his selfishness and his massive ego would get in the way of him being a good leader, and he knew the man long enough to know no matter what, he'd never change, because the one thing he loved was himself, and now he was surrounded with people calling him "Sir" in their own language and bowing to his commands.. What could make a worse leader than that?
His plan was to ask around for his old friend, invite him for a drink, talk about the "good old days" so maybe he could get away from the past two years at least for a while, thinking his friend would still be a low ranking officer in their army.. But walking into the bar, asking for this "Dresner", and being told that "Herr Brigadegeneral rarely visits the bar." was the last thing he expected to hear. Knowing the self-obsessed bastard, he knew he shouldn't bother even letting him know that he's around, so with his plan scrapped, the only thing he needed to do was finish his drink and reclaim the guns he had once been granted by the army, hoping they'd still have the records of his request and he won't have to go past his "old friend" just to regain access to the guns he had used for over a year.
Despite the Junker bar in New Berlin, here in Freital at least very few seemed to know him, but still the situation wasn't much different. Still ignoring all the glances and all the whispers, but he could hear his own name now and again, somewhere in all the fade whispers filling the bar. He remembered when he was new to the region and how he praised the Hessian gear, thinking it's the ultimate piracy gear one could ever ask for, and yet, it was both funny and disgusting how he had been proven wrong. Working his way up the food chain, to be granted a Katana, and a year after, getting to replace the Natterturns on his ship with a set of Council guns - With enough trouble to make it not worth it at all -, now he was back in the first step, planing to get a set of Natterturns again, despite knowing the guns have never been the ultimate gear for what he does best.
His plan was to ask around for his old friend, invite him for a drink, talk about the "good old days" so maybe he could get away from the past two years at least for a while, thinking his friend would still be a low ranking officer in their army.. But walking into the bar, asking for this "Dresner", and being told that "Herr Brigadegeneral rarely visits the bar." was the last thing he expected to hear. Knowing the self-obsessed bastard, he knew he shouldn't bother even letting him know that he's around, so with his plan scrapped, the only thing he needed to do was finish his drink and reclaim the guns he had once been granted by the army, hoping they'd still have the records of his request and he won't have to go past his "old friend" just to regain access to the guns he had used for over a year.
Despite the Junker bar in New Berlin, here in Freital at least very few seemed to know him, but still the situation wasn't much different. Still ignoring all the glances and all the whispers, but he could hear his own name now and again, somewhere in all the fade whispers filling the bar. He remembered when he was new to the region and how he praised the Hessian gear, thinking it's the ultimate piracy gear one could ever ask for, and yet, it was both funny and disgusting how he had been proven wrong. Working his way up the food chain, to be granted a Katana, and a year after, getting to replace the Natterturns on his ship with a set of Council guns - With enough trouble to make it not worth it at all -, now he was back in the first step, planing to get a set of Natterturns again, despite knowing the guns have never been the ultimate gear for what he does best.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-03-2012
Part VII: Buried in Greed
Omegas, maybe the filthiest place throughout Sirius. Clouds and radiations, disabled ships and nearly dry mining fields, high profit trade routes.. A heaven for the greedy scum who want nothing from life but an extra credit or two. A place filled with miners, traders, pirates, wreck hunters, mercs, and every type of money-hungry lowlife from all around the Sirius. A disgusting place to be in, a disgusting place to even fly through - Filled with the stink of greed and filled with purposeless souls doing what they do only because they know of nothing better.
Known to be a battlefield, only one system in particular is actually anywhere close to that definition. With one system in particular where Corsairs and Hessians rip each other apart, for nothing but control over one system, and it all has been going on for too long no one even remembers how it all started in the first place. Even that one system which serves a purpose, or gets destroyed trying to serve a purpose, is filled with torn off wrecks that any Junker and treasure hunter can sniff from jumps away. A heaven for Junkers they say, after the pile of scrap floating around in Texas, but after a day of digging through the wrecks, even after weeks and years of digging through the wrecks, none of them bothers asking themselves - What now?
And worst of all.. Lair of the Wild. The scar of selfishness and self-righteousness on the face of Omegas, left there by someone neither human nor alien, but something inbetween. Killing the helpless, taking the loved ones, slaughtering the innocent, destroying lives, corrupting all they could use.. and I'd bet my eyes even they don't know why, because they can't think, because they are not alive anymore. They're just puppets to the hands of something worse. Walking corpses driven by a blood-thirsty race of aliens who know nothing but destruction. Nothing but rabid dogs, but not as easy to put down.
Known to be a battlefield, only one system in particular is actually anywhere close to that definition. With one system in particular where Corsairs and Hessians rip each other apart, for nothing but control over one system, and it all has been going on for too long no one even remembers how it all started in the first place. Even that one system which serves a purpose, or gets destroyed trying to serve a purpose, is filled with torn off wrecks that any Junker and treasure hunter can sniff from jumps away. A heaven for Junkers they say, after the pile of scrap floating around in Texas, but after a day of digging through the wrecks, even after weeks and years of digging through the wrecks, none of them bothers asking themselves - What now?
And worst of all.. Lair of the Wild. The scar of selfishness and self-righteousness on the face of Omegas, left there by someone neither human nor alien, but something inbetween. Killing the helpless, taking the loved ones, slaughtering the innocent, destroying lives, corrupting all they could use.. and I'd bet my eyes even they don't know why, because they can't think, because they are not alive anymore. They're just puppets to the hands of something worse. Walking corpses driven by a blood-thirsty race of aliens who know nothing but destruction. Nothing but rabid dogs, but not as easy to put down.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-03-2012
Part VIII: The Endless Red
Maybe because it was the first first ever house he had been to after leaving Gallia, or maybe because it was the only place he didn't have a bad memory from, or maybe because it was the only place he had never spent enough time in to have any bad memories from, but whatever the reason, Bretonia always felt different. With its endless red, the exact opposite of the Kusari, it was every definition of warmth a man could come up with. Even a house with such potential, had to be the victim of incompetence of its inhabitants. With polluted planet spread through its systems, and having to witness one war barely after another ends, what would be worse than having to live in a house like that?
Many people mistook him for a Bretonian, and most commented on how his accent is strange for someone from that house, and he never felt anything but insulted from those words. Who would want to be from a house with a government that bends over for anyone and everyone, because they've become too desperate for nothing more than their survival. Pathetic swines who failed over and over again and yet, never learned. His mission for Dragons had brought him down to Bretonia not long ago, and he could tell nothing had changed since. Their army was as pathetic as he remembered them to be, and the police was nothing but a joke. Maybe, after all, in such a situation selling out to every single group out there actually was their only chance for survival.
At least being in Bretonia had one positive side - Trafalgar. One of the very few places in the whole Sirius he could actually consider a friendly base, not just a dockable one. With his long history around that station, and his come-back not long ago, it was one of the few bars he wasn't treated like a complete stranger in. Most people still cautious, but those who knew they'd be safe if they stay on his good sides treated him like a regular at the bar, and even though he hated their fake smiles and silly small-talks, he still preferred it to the cold and hostile stares he had to bear ever since he left Kusari.
Many people mistook him for a Bretonian, and most commented on how his accent is strange for someone from that house, and he never felt anything but insulted from those words. Who would want to be from a house with a government that bends over for anyone and everyone, because they've become too desperate for nothing more than their survival. Pathetic swines who failed over and over again and yet, never learned. His mission for Dragons had brought him down to Bretonia not long ago, and he could tell nothing had changed since. Their army was as pathetic as he remembered them to be, and the police was nothing but a joke. Maybe, after all, in such a situation selling out to every single group out there actually was their only chance for survival.
At least being in Bretonia had one positive side - Trafalgar. One of the very few places in the whole Sirius he could actually consider a friendly base, not just a dockable one. With his long history around that station, and his come-back not long ago, it was one of the few bars he wasn't treated like a complete stranger in. Most people still cautious, but those who knew they'd be safe if they stay on his good sides treated him like a regular at the bar, and even though he hated their fake smiles and silly small-talks, he still preferred it to the cold and hostile stares he had to bear ever since he left Kusari.
RE: Imperfection - Saerieve - 11-03-2012
Part IX: Hypocrisy
"Nature lovers, eh? That's what I thought at first.. But let me tell you one thing, they're just hypocrites. That's what they are. I've seen 'em talk, I've seen 'em shoot, I've even caught them off-guard in places they would've expected me the least, and from all the things they're actually fighting for - if any -, nature and Gaia and all that bullcrap ain't one. They're just a bunch of clowns, brainless idiots, a bunch of desperate rats who've sold their soul not to Satan, but to them Kusari mafia and their buddy-Corsairs. Don't you ever wonder why an 'eco-pacifist' sort of group would need all those shiny guns and gear for? Sure they call themselves 'eco-terrorists', but that's just an excuse to hide behind that Gaia planet of theirs and work their dirty deals under the table while the fools out in public think they're the saints who've sacrificed their life for the sake of 'nature' and all that crap."
"I must say though, it's some damn good scotch you've got here... Remind me to grab a few bottles before I take off; And speak of the devil, those two scumbags sitting at the table behind me are both Gaians, aren't they? I can feel their stare without even looking, and I won't be surprised if you find them in the toilet with a big fat Sair who's dropped by to sell his load of worthless artifacts. They're the ones to blame for the whole Nomad wars and all if you ask me. From what I've heard some still-active artifact woke those damn squids up, and no need to wonder who was messing around with those alien artifacts since long before the mess. Who knows, if the bastards minded their own business and starved to death there'd be no Nomad or Wild or all that crap now. Those damn squids take all they want and kill all they don't, and what happens to these damn cannibals who started this mess in the first place? Nothing. No one minds them long as they don't reach for the trigger. Now how pathetic is that?"
"That's the problem really... People blame each other for so many worthless craps that they actually forget about the real guilt. If a Sair gang raid a small-time transport, kill the captain, rape his wife, and take his children, I bet those damn armed forces idiots won't give a damn long as the captain wasn't British... And no one thinks about the simple fact that that poor sod was taking the risk of flying through the Omegas just so he could make a living and feed his family, so what makes him any less than the so-called 'Royal family' who just eat and sleep and ruin the house with their idiotic decisions? If you ask me, that one innocent wife who gets raped worths thousands more than the whole 'Royal family' altogether... Yet, no one cares because she was a nobody. She didn't get her picture on the news, and no one even heard about what happened to her, not even me. Sure I'm making this whole thing up, but you know the Sairs, crap like this happens with them too many times a day I don't really want to think about it.. Cause they're just animals, that's what eating your kin's flesh does to you. Barbarians...
"I must say though, it's some damn good scotch you've got here... Remind me to grab a few bottles before I take off; And speak of the devil, those two scumbags sitting at the table behind me are both Gaians, aren't they? I can feel their stare without even looking, and I won't be surprised if you find them in the toilet with a big fat Sair who's dropped by to sell his load of worthless artifacts. They're the ones to blame for the whole Nomad wars and all if you ask me. From what I've heard some still-active artifact woke those damn squids up, and no need to wonder who was messing around with those alien artifacts since long before the mess. Who knows, if the bastards minded their own business and starved to death there'd be no Nomad or Wild or all that crap now. Those damn squids take all they want and kill all they don't, and what happens to these damn cannibals who started this mess in the first place? Nothing. No one minds them long as they don't reach for the trigger. Now how pathetic is that?"
"That's the problem really... People blame each other for so many worthless craps that they actually forget about the real guilt. If a Sair gang raid a small-time transport, kill the captain, rape his wife, and take his children, I bet those damn armed forces idiots won't give a damn long as the captain wasn't British... And no one thinks about the simple fact that that poor sod was taking the risk of flying through the Omegas just so he could make a living and feed his family, so what makes him any less than the so-called 'Royal family' who just eat and sleep and ruin the house with their idiotic decisions? If you ask me, that one innocent wife who gets raped worths thousands more than the whole 'Royal family' altogether... Yet, no one cares because she was a nobody. She didn't get her picture on the news, and no one even heard about what happened to her, not even me. Sure I'm making this whole thing up, but you know the Sairs, crap like this happens with them too many times a day I don't really want to think about it.. Cause they're just animals, that's what eating your kin's flesh does to you. Barbarians...