Post by Ulysses Grante on Mar 7, 2009 12:57:46 GMT -5
On the far edge of the solar system, a lone 3-man shuttle skimmed along, just beyond the reach of most long-range scanners. The identification along the side proclaimed it to be the Voidrover, an exploration vessel that had gone missing almost sixteen years ago. The lone occupant had certainly gone out of his way to make sure that remained the case.
On the bridge of the small ship, a young man of about twenty-five years sat alone, much as he had these past three years that his parents had been gone. His skin—what was showing of it—was a dark, dusky metallic gray which proclaimed his Mage-hood as much as his abnormally yellow eyes. The man, named Ulysses Augustine Grante, was currently dressed in a painfully bright floral print button-down, short-sleeved shirt, a pair of grayish green baggy cargo pants, fingerless brown leather gloves, heavy black boots on his feet and an old, faded red knit scarf wound several times around his neck and left to trail down his back behind him. A pair of old leather goggles were pushed high on his head as well, keeping back his thick, somewhat shaggy black hair.
Ulysses currently sat in the pilot’s chair, even though the vessel was on Auto, his booted feet propped up and two of his favorite action figures in his hands.
“Arrgh,” he pronounced in a very impressive intimidation of the classic piratey accent, “ye’re goin down this time, Melrose,” waving a Blue-Patch Vickerson toy in one hand. In the other he produced one of his absolute favorites, his mint-condition John Melrose—complete with life-like hair and costume.
“Hah!” he barked, tone now confident and suave. “As if the paltry likes of you could ever defeat the Great John Melrose, greatest pirate in the history of piracy!”
“Arrgh, shiver me timbers,” the other pirate squealed. “I’ve been struck speechless by yer wit and charm.”
“Yes, I have that effect on some—,”
Ulysses was brought up short by the sound of his sensors going off. The young man quickly set his toys aside and sat up, causing a few of the bobble-head dolls mounted near-by to wiggle in protest.
Alone, Ulysses had been forced to become pilot, Captain, engineer, medic and—at times—boarder crewman of his own ship. His dusky fingers danced over the controls, now, bringing up a read-out of the ship that had neared him. He smirked when he saw that it was a fairly small Rapier-class Corsair, named the Mjollnir. And as secluded as he had been, he had no idea who that ship belonged to, as would anyone else who’d owned a net connection for the past ten years.
All Ulysses saw was a fairly small vessel that he could probably manage to cloak without too much of a strain on his powers. Which meant some new supplies, a few new gadgets and perhaps some food that wasn’t going stale.
“Alright, Mr. Wiggles,” he announced to the dog bobble-head doll near-by, grabbing his goggles and pulling them down over his eyes. “It’s show time.”
Ulysses reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red bottle, twisting off the top and dumping out two small white pills before popping them in his mouth and swallowing quickly. Slightly stronger than over-the-counter headache medication, in preparation for what he was about to do.
Cause this was gonna give him one hell of a migraine.
Ulysses reached out with his powers then. There was a very faint, subtle shift in the air around him, a distortion that slowly grew in size until it was enveloping the entire ship. The Voidrover was now cloaked in a magnetic field, one that would effectively jam most sensor equipment. And unless the technician was extremely dedicated at their job, the distortion was subtle enough that it would go largely unnoticed as anything more than a glitch.
Grimacing with the strain, Ulysses quickly took the controls and piloted his ship alongside the larger Mjollnir, near it’s docking hatch. Some very tricky maneuvering had him manage to dock with very little fuss. Now occupying the same space as the larger ship, his shuttle would go unnoticed in their scanners, so he dropped the distortion field. Ulysses let out a slight sigh afterward, doing his best to ignore the pounding in his head and wiping away the small trickle of blood from his nose before pulling his scarf up to hide the lower part of his face and then jumping to his feet. He grabbed up his large leather knapsack, slinging it across his chest diagonal, then grabbed up his two pistols and holstered them on either thigh, before heading for the hatch of his own ship. The other ship’s hatch was locked, of course, but a wave of his hand had the tumblers unlock with a dull thud, allowing Ulysses to reach out and wrench it open.
He ducked his head in, and was pleased to discover that there was no one in sight. Underneath the scarf, Ulysses grinned.
“Easy pickings, boys. Easy pickings.”
The young mage skulked off through the shadows, on the lookout for anything useful, valuable or interesting.
On the bridge of the small ship, a young man of about twenty-five years sat alone, much as he had these past three years that his parents had been gone. His skin—what was showing of it—was a dark, dusky metallic gray which proclaimed his Mage-hood as much as his abnormally yellow eyes. The man, named Ulysses Augustine Grante, was currently dressed in a painfully bright floral print button-down, short-sleeved shirt, a pair of grayish green baggy cargo pants, fingerless brown leather gloves, heavy black boots on his feet and an old, faded red knit scarf wound several times around his neck and left to trail down his back behind him. A pair of old leather goggles were pushed high on his head as well, keeping back his thick, somewhat shaggy black hair.
Ulysses currently sat in the pilot’s chair, even though the vessel was on Auto, his booted feet propped up and two of his favorite action figures in his hands.
“Arrgh,” he pronounced in a very impressive intimidation of the classic piratey accent, “ye’re goin down this time, Melrose,” waving a Blue-Patch Vickerson toy in one hand. In the other he produced one of his absolute favorites, his mint-condition John Melrose—complete with life-like hair and costume.
“Hah!” he barked, tone now confident and suave. “As if the paltry likes of you could ever defeat the Great John Melrose, greatest pirate in the history of piracy!”
“Arrgh, shiver me timbers,” the other pirate squealed. “I’ve been struck speechless by yer wit and charm.”
“Yes, I have that effect on some—,”
Ulysses was brought up short by the sound of his sensors going off. The young man quickly set his toys aside and sat up, causing a few of the bobble-head dolls mounted near-by to wiggle in protest.
Alone, Ulysses had been forced to become pilot, Captain, engineer, medic and—at times—boarder crewman of his own ship. His dusky fingers danced over the controls, now, bringing up a read-out of the ship that had neared him. He smirked when he saw that it was a fairly small Rapier-class Corsair, named the Mjollnir. And as secluded as he had been, he had no idea who that ship belonged to, as would anyone else who’d owned a net connection for the past ten years.
All Ulysses saw was a fairly small vessel that he could probably manage to cloak without too much of a strain on his powers. Which meant some new supplies, a few new gadgets and perhaps some food that wasn’t going stale.
“Alright, Mr. Wiggles,” he announced to the dog bobble-head doll near-by, grabbing his goggles and pulling them down over his eyes. “It’s show time.”
Ulysses reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red bottle, twisting off the top and dumping out two small white pills before popping them in his mouth and swallowing quickly. Slightly stronger than over-the-counter headache medication, in preparation for what he was about to do.
Cause this was gonna give him one hell of a migraine.
Ulysses reached out with his powers then. There was a very faint, subtle shift in the air around him, a distortion that slowly grew in size until it was enveloping the entire ship. The Voidrover was now cloaked in a magnetic field, one that would effectively jam most sensor equipment. And unless the technician was extremely dedicated at their job, the distortion was subtle enough that it would go largely unnoticed as anything more than a glitch.
Grimacing with the strain, Ulysses quickly took the controls and piloted his ship alongside the larger Mjollnir, near it’s docking hatch. Some very tricky maneuvering had him manage to dock with very little fuss. Now occupying the same space as the larger ship, his shuttle would go unnoticed in their scanners, so he dropped the distortion field. Ulysses let out a slight sigh afterward, doing his best to ignore the pounding in his head and wiping away the small trickle of blood from his nose before pulling his scarf up to hide the lower part of his face and then jumping to his feet. He grabbed up his large leather knapsack, slinging it across his chest diagonal, then grabbed up his two pistols and holstered them on either thigh, before heading for the hatch of his own ship. The other ship’s hatch was locked, of course, but a wave of his hand had the tumblers unlock with a dull thud, allowing Ulysses to reach out and wrench it open.
He ducked his head in, and was pleased to discover that there was no one in sight. Underneath the scarf, Ulysses grinned.
“Easy pickings, boys. Easy pickings.”
The young mage skulked off through the shadows, on the lookout for anything useful, valuable or interesting.