"Comrade Commissar, I am proud of the things I did to aid the Bundschuh. I own a Roc, and therefore I took the battle to the Rheinland Military forces. Capital ships were no match, and many a transport pilot looked down the barrel of my cannons. I mostly flew by myself, although I aided the Red Hessians against the Rheinland Military and helped them turn the tide. I also hold Comrade Commander Weise in the highest regard. Do these answers satisfy you Comrade Commissar?"
Grigory pulled a pistol from his coat and shot the incoherent idiot where he stood, and his body crumpled where he stood. Grigory looked back at the commissar and shrugged. "Anyways comrade commissar, what is your answer?"
"Hrm. So, you know how to use a pistol comrade, or at least you think you do... Tell me, who was Comrade Commodore Jan Richtoven, and how did he die? Who commands the vessel named in his honour?"
The Commissar leans back in his chair, and lights a massive cigar stub from an equally large lighter. Blowing clouds of noxious smoke in the candidates face, he adopts a pose of indulged patience.
The Commissar, a thin, dangerous looking man wearing a greatcoat despite the station's heating, glowered at Anton from behind his large, empty desk. An old gunpowder, single-action revolving pistol sat in the center of the massive slab of metal, with a single round beside it. The Commissar rose, and pointed a gloved, menacing finger at the weapon.
"Listen to me, scum, and listen good!" He hissed in a voice of chipped glass and scorched steel. "If you lie to me, that round will be going in your face! If you've only come here to waste my time, or to fulfill some kind of insane fantasy, put the damn bullet in yourself. Well? What'll it be?"
The Commissar snatched the pistol off the desk, opening the chamber with a stern flick of the wrist, and dropping the round inside. Raising a long, leather-enclosed finger, he spun the chamber with a whirrrr, watching Anton's sweating face. With a crack, and another flick of the wrist he closed it, gazing at the perspiration dripping off the candidate's nose. Laying it back on the desk, he smiled and folded his arms over his chest.
"Now, I've seen more scum like you than I can count, coming in here and hoping that I give two shakes for some ex-merc clown. 'Cousin in the Hessians' " he sneered, imitating the man's voice. "If I had a bloody medal for every time someone came in with an unknown, long-lost 'cuz' in the bloody revolution, I'd look like Weise!"
The Commissar reached forward with his unnaturally long arm, and lifted Anton clear off the ground, bringing him close, and sneering into his eyes. With his other hand, he snatched the pistol off the desk, and pressed the muzzle into Anton's left nostril, whilst cocking it with his thumb.
Staring into the man's terrified eyes, he spat, "Now! Who told you to come here? Who are you working for? Where did you get the balls to come in here with so blatant a lie! Who are you working for? Is it the Rheinlanders? Is that it? Have they decided that shooting at us is a loosing proposition finally? Who do you work for, SPY?!
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
Name: Youri Aliabiev //Kert in-game
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Youri entered the Zvezdny Gorodok Coalition recruitement center, he was a little nervous, he was thinking about joining the Coalition for a few months now, he prepare it self by think about what he will say to the recruiting officier. After presenting it self to the officier, he sit where this officier told him and wait that an recruitment officer call him. After 30 minutes, he hear a voice who say : "Aliabiev!", Youri stand up and entered in the office, an officer was waiting for him, he wait that the officier say him to sit and wait the questions.
"So?" simply asked the commisar
"Hum uh... Well..." badly started youri, but he tried to have more confidence.
"My name is Youri Aliabiev sir, i want to join the SCRA. I'm born on New york, i'm the son of a miner, I worked with him and my brother in the Pittsburg scrap field for 3 years. This period make me piloting light ships but i'm not a very good figther pilot, i'm hopping that the SCRA, if you accept me, will make me a better pilot. I've learn the story of the sirius system and some of the old Sol system. I've been studying the Coalition story, that's make me decided that i want to join it. She's different of the Alliance houses, she don't exploit the poor, she help them, that is the principal thing that make me push that door, i want to help people, the poor people, not the imperialist's pigs that lead the houses. For the moment, i've leave the "family affair", if we can call this an affair, and decided to come here, to change my destiny, to make something good of my life, I want to join the SCRA."
"That's all about me sir..." Youri was still nervous, the waited the next questions of the officer, or his answer...
"Comrade Captain Jan Richtofen died by the hand of Mon'Star. It was a sad day for all. The ship named in his honor: the CPW-Jan Richtofen, is commanded by the hand of Commodore Rokossowsky. Rictofen has nothing but respect and admiration from me, Comrade Commissar. He died in the glory of battle, the heroes death."
The name: Ivan Nagirov
Floor: the Man
Age: 22
Height: 183
Weight: 83
Hair colour: the white
Colour of eyes: Blue
The born place: the Planet New York, the New York system of system
First Joining: Freelancer
Last Joining: Order
Military experience: an exterminating bomber
Has grown in poor area, earning on gathering of resources in Pennsylvania. Then has had an accident and has been picked up Outcast. Has grown among criminals, survived "at the bottom" societies. Because of a sense of justice inherent in it often fought, protecting weak and poor, than displeased companions. 10 years ago, as a result of serious dismantlings, has been strongly wounded and has decided that Sirius should exist in more equal relations to all. The communism should correct this disorder.
"Abrupt", bright, brave and fearless.
Worthless in fencing art, uses a small pistol.
More likely, concerns a type of the Khan of Solo from Star wars.
Does not see the further life out of the Coalition
He walked the corridor, it was empty. It always was at this hour, even Freeports have lulls. He didn't like the hum, it didn't feel right. Every station has one, but this one was wrong.
He knew what to do, what he was there to do. He'd been away though. He was always away somewhere, Bretonia first, Liberty second, Taus third. He liked the Taus, they were rugged, alive. People fought for their lives there, everything was a struggle. That was their life, struggle. It was a truer existence than any core world could give.
Time had passed, things had changed. He had changed. He always seemed to change. The door was there, it was the same. Cold, steel, with all the character that decades of use and repeated repair brought. It bore the hallmarks of a life of dedication and purpose served. It slide open, and then there was a crunch. Why did it make him think Ares had been here?
No matter, the door was open and he was walking.
His steps echoed through the room as he walked. Cuban heels will do that. It must have been a sight for the officer on duty, it was the same officer. He probably looked a scene to him. Trousers woven from the finest fabrics Kusari had to offer, dress shirt from his school best, his grandfather's belt, this was the one he really liked though, a Bretonian officer's great coat he had reappropriated while on Trafalgar.
The desk was infront of his now, so he drew his pistol and placed it on the table. As it passed through the light you could just make out the figure of a cat. He spoke single word, it was all he needed to say.
![[Image: coalitionsig22.png]](http://imageshack.us/a/img571/6792/coalitionsig22.png)
![[Image: LibreIISuper_Small.png]](http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y287/Adelphus/LibreIISuper_Small.png)