Firefly: SignUp & OOC

[SoHee]

TEASER


"Sir? I finally got a wave from Inara."

Malcolm Reynolds turned his attention away from the blueprint, which he had spent the last hour staring at, to the beautiful woman that now stood in front of the table hands resting on her hips. At the mentioning of Inara he always got this pained expression on his face. Their relationship had grown a bit strained during the last year.

"Did they get out okay?" he asked. Almost a year after the broadwave the original Firefly crew had lost a few more members. Inara had gone back to the Guild to train and prepare the girls as Companions, but also to provide a legitimate front for the resistance to channel funds. She had even dared to use the training school as a secret haven for the Independents, as they were once again being called.

"Did they get out okay?" he asked again as Zoe had yet to answer. She looked at him with her dark eyes and he dreaded to hear her answer.

"Barely," she finally said and lowered her head. "Some of the girls are very injured and some didn't make it out at all."

He threw a fist on the table. The Independents, a group that both Mal and Zoe had so reluctantly taken control of and been a thorn in the Alliance's side for the past year, was putting his friends in danger. They had not brought an open war to the Alliance, since they knew that with such a formidable and strong opponent it would only hurt them more than it would help. Instead they had started a guerrilla war where they poked holes and caused chaos in the Alliance. Single scout ships venturing too far away from the Armada were often lost and they had managed to place a numerous of spies within the ranks. Up until now the Alliance had been unable to strike back since they did not know where to look. Hurt by the broadwave made two years ago they had rethought their ways of brutal and remorseless punishment, afraid of losing the support from the core planets that they still held. That was, up until now. Inara's group had not been the first one they had attacked and if things continued it wouldn't be the last.

"What hwun dan has been feeding them information?" he said, throwing one of the chairs to the side. Zoe, stoic as ever, remained calm but she closed her fists.

"Everyone has been warned," she said.

"Yea, but that's not gonna cut it. We hafta find the hole that is leaking and plug it for good!"

"I agree, but it will be difficult sir, and it will take time. Have you spoken to Jameela yet?" Zoe continued and turned her eyes towards the blueprints. "She is waiting for a green light."

"Yea I know, I've just gone over the layout again, and I'm fairly sure this is the place."

"Fairly sure, sir?" Zoe popped an eyebrow and despite his heavy heart he couldn't help but to give her a smirk in return.

"Well, can't be sure unless they post a sign outside, which I doubt they will."

"Fine, sir. Should I give it a go then?"

"Yea, do it. Just tell her to watch her back."





GENERAL INFORMATION


This is a thread set in the firefly-universe created by Joss Whedon.
If you are familiar to the setting the main characters will not be open to play.

As you understand by now, if you've seen Serenity, it is set two years after the ending of the movie. You will become one of the crew members under the Captain Jameela on the Firefly ship called Freyja who will introduce the mission for you.

For you that are new to this universe it is set in the future where high technology is mixed with the good old western. The central core planets are futuristic and prosperous while the outer rim planets are new terra formed planets which have been thrown back in time so to speak. This is where the wild west comes in.

If you have not seen Firefly (or Serenity), please do so since it is one of the best series out there! :)
But also because it would be easier to understand this universe.
I suggest you see Serenity first, if you just wanna get a brief understanding of the universe, and then follow up with Firefly if you can get ahold of it.

Also as a reference I've found this which I've found helpful:
http://www.fireflywiki.org

Geco and I are going to co-GM this little adventure and we will run it using an episode layout and if you want to you can lead your own episode down the line.



Character sheet

Name:
Age:
Position: (at the ship)
Appearance:
Brief history:

[SoHee]

CHARACTERS


SoHee (CO-GM)
Name: Yoora Ri
Age: 20
Position: Psychic

Appearance: Dark brown slanted eyes. When rescued her hair is shaved but it will grow out to end below her cheeks, with a fringe. Well-toned body, average height. Very agile.

Brief history: Yoora grew up on Sihnon, the Jewel of the Core worlds, a planet highly influenced of the chinese culture more than anything else. However Yoora's upbringing was not as priveledged as most of the children at Sihnon. Her mother Mi-Cha came from an old wealthy family, with traces all the way back to the Korean peninsula back at the first home planet, Earth. The line, or perhaps the money, ended when her mother married a simple working man, her father Hyun-Su. Despite the lack of wealth her upbringing was filled with love.

Even though she wasn't sent to the best schools on Sihnon Yoora showed early on that she would be a force to be reckon with, with her natural ability to memorize anything after reading it and grasping information in a way no one could. Needless to say she was the best pupil in her school and a curious student who read everything she could get her hands on. Surpassing her fellow students quickly she was enrolled at a planetwide competition for promising young 15 years old when she was only 12 years old. The winner would win a scolarship at the well reputated Academy, which she of course won with ease.

The Academy turned out to be the hell on earth and she soon realised she had made a mistake. She was there when River was freed by Simon, but she had no one that would come for her. So she remained in their 'care'.


Name: Bree "Tweety Bird" Shillings
Age: 27
Position: Engineer

Appearance: Bree has large wild red curles reaching below her shoulders. Her green eyes always have a certain spark to them. She is lightly built and shorter than most in the crew, but her attitude surely makes up for it.

Brief history: Bree grew up with her family on Hera. At the beginning of the Unification War she offered her skills as an Engineer for the Independents and helped out here and there on the different ships, never fought on ground. During those years she met Jammer and they became lovers for a short while. Their affair ended in a deep friendship but after the Unification War they split up as Bree wanted to find out what had happened to her family after they had been forced to flee Hera during the war. After the broadwave she decided to seek up Jammer again and has been on Freyja ever since.


Geco (CO-GM)
Name: Jameela "Jammer" Khalil
Age: 31
Position: Captain

Appearance: Even at 5'9" you can feel Jameela's presence from across the room. Her features are chiseled, but still maintain the middle eastern softness. Her eyes are large and dark, drawing you into her. Her coal hair has been cut short with bangs trimmed at an angle so that one side sweeps down over her right eye. Because she is a product of interracial parents her skin is a beautiful and rich mocha, which gives her an exotic quality.

Brief history: Jameela was born on the border , desert moon Ezra and was a partal outcast because of her mixed blood. Although the Anglo-Sino Alliance preached an official policy of tolerance, sometimes such was not always the case, and she grew up as a typical Anglo would, her mother's middle eastern heritage was actively discouraged. Because of this she always felt resentment towards the Alliance government growing up, so when the Independents started fighting back she sped away from Ezra and joined the cause, much to the embarassment of her Mother and Father. She was one of the few border people who joined the Brown Coats, most of the ranks being comprised from the Rim Planets whose homes were actually being threatened. It was during the war that she met Malcom Reynolds and Zoe Alleyne, fought with them, and lost with them. She was transferred out of the platoon right before the Battle of Serenity Valley, and lost contact with them after that. Her family was forced to disown her, rather than live in disgrace, so she turned to the Black. She became a nomad, moving from crew to crew, some legit, others less savoury, but refused to work for the Alliance. Eventually she was recruited by one of the resistance factions on Bernadette where they were fighting to end the slave-trade. When the Broadwave happened, and she later learned it was the work of Mal, she was part of the party who went to convince the Captain to take up the leadership of their fight against the Alliance. Now, she is a Captain with her own ship in the Indepent Fleet.


Horned15
Name/Alias: Gatros, the 'Nickolas' Patriot. Otherwise known as Jack.
Age: Unknown, estimated to be around 30's, but hard to tell. Mutha's a sick puppy, face stretched like canvas on a frame too large, and never bloody talks, I tells ya. So I do the talking fer' him.
Position: Thug (Or otherwise known more politely as Security Enforcer)

Appearance: Tall, gangly, with under-defined arms without any particular muscular definition, but coiled tight like a rope. Bushy brown hair shaped messily scattered across his skull, with tattoo's of every known designer drink label marked into his back to shape the imagery of a dragon in flight. Wears a simple green tank top, and blue tattered jeans and cloaked in a white trenchcoat. Slung to his hips is 'Mona', as in Lisa, you punk, a .223 rifle caliber revolver the size of New Jersey. (I'm just kidding, it's about as long as your thigh, punk) Eyes like wild-fire, always bright, always smoldering, darts around often.

Brief history: So let's tells you a story, see. Brother's a nut-job, whacked out on synth's the day his mama brought him to this sorry piece o' universe.

'e was born in a Monday. Is all he ever was told. Ain't nobody gave a damn on his world. Everyone born on a Monday, see. Once a year, they all grow a year older. Ain't no point giving age to men who ain't worth more than the dirt they sleep on, ye see. Slaves, they calls him. Serfs. Brother worked them mines, young lad o' four when 'e started. Brother never saw his parents. Too dark in them mines. They ain't never left, ain't nobody alive none at least.

Said he killed his first man when the boy's but twelve. I'm thinking he's lying. I'm thinking he was ten, but he says he's twelve, so's I stick with that. Said he's got talent, the sod, says he's real good, not worth keeping him slaved to some sheet job working them death-traps allaway in the darkness. Says they take him out, to the light. To the world. The world where men mattered. A world where HE mattered. A world ruled by madness and depravity, where men sinned and women whored. Laws are whatever the 'ell the richest man says they are. And here, HE was their law-man. Taught him how to kill, the lad. Sweet, sweet lad o' twelve, and they taught him how to carve a man's face in, and 'ow to shoot 'is guts out. The first o' his kind, a brother from da' mines, taught to fight in a world o' light men's wars. They called him Gatro. Means 'Dog'. He likes it. First time anyone's given him a name. Back in the mines, you didn't live long enough to enjoy a name. They beat him, make him mad, I tell you. Boy's got not enough sanity in him to weigh down a puppy. Whack job, 's what he is.

Sho' enough, though, boy turned out good. Damnned good. Too good. Boys back home, didn't like what they see. Boy from the hood, become a man o' the light, a killer o' light boys. They didn't like it one bit.

So's they try to bring him back down to the darkness. He don't like it, you see. He don't like it one bit.

Playa's so far gone up the synth's, he don't quite feels it no more. Ain't nobody wants to feel nuthin' in that joint. Ain't nobody feelin' nothin' once brotha's done with the joint. Bodies stacked up da walls like they wuz some kinda painting. Was beautiful, was beautiful. They ran scared. There ain't no law no more. They ain't DA law no more. Skipped out on 'em on the first cab he found. Found a way out, out o' that world, into da dark, dark space out here. Brought us wit' em. Brother's gold, brother's gold. So here we's are, I speak fer him. Joo don't wanna him to speak wit'cha, you feelin' me? If he talks, you probably too far into pain to hear what he has to say, so just stick wit' talkin' to me, brother, I'll keep ya straight.


Goddimus
Name: Russell Hanna "Hanna"
Age: 29
Position: Cook/Various

Appearance: A petite man, standing just a few inches over five feet. Light-skinned and wiry. Amber eyes and short black hair trimmed on the sides and back. Of course, as the cook, he generally wears a light-blue beanie to keep his hair out of the food. Although he has no stand-out markings, his naturally effeminate look has been known to draw a second and third glance.

Brief history: Born and raised on an Alliance cruiser in a family of entertainers. A one time jack-of-all-trades with a résumé running from boy-whoring and dancing, to casino "girl" and magician. His lack of dirt-side influence made him a prime candidate for membership of the "Free Radicals" - a private group under Durran Haymer that conducted the actual footwork of the former Alliance officer's plans. Despite being unofficially employed by the Alliance, the group was known to carry out ops against civilian targets on Core planets to expand Haymer's collection of Earth-That-Was antiques.

Post Unification War and Haymer's retirement, a number of members were arrested and executed for war crimes, forcing the survivors into lives on the Rim. Fortunately, with rumblings of a second war on the horizon, those Radicals that are left see a prime opportunity to reapply their skills.


Mars Lumograph
Name: Taffrey Tanner
Age: 37
Position: Pilot

Appearance: Taffrey stands just under six feet tall, with an unremarkable build. He has an ungainly step of sorts - what looks like the remnants of a limp or some problem with his balance. He has dark hair, cut down to near nothing, and has a decent layer of stubble over his face except for under his lower lip and chin, in the mutton chop style of many border world aristocrats. He takes pride in dressing 'right proper' and always has a waistcoat and decent shoes, even if neither are particularly new. What makes Taffrey stand out in a crowd is his left hand, or rather, the large metal hook where it once was, held on by a leather harness that holds onto his arm and spreads accross his shoulerblades, allowing it to hold as much weight as his right.

Brief history: Taffrey is a native of Dyton collony, and has often returned to serve various short prison sentences. He flew a drop ship for the independants during the Unification War, and has bounced around the rim since then.

[Geco]

Hey Everyone!

Can't wait to get started hehe.

[Horned15]

There is a silence in him that scares me, hidden beneath that brusque exterior and bombastic outlandish demeanor. A silence that sings the song of death.

-Unknown

"He ain't GOT no name, mutha f'kers. Bastich's got a list o' dead trails as long as his arm, ruthless mutha' frakker too. Says ter call him Gatro. So's I calls him Gatro, and if youse smart, you'd do the same. Brother ain't like no other sane man like youse and me. He's a stone dead killer, but brother can he talk street, dawg! Brother's insane, you ask me, but he's damnned good, damnned good. Freak's got arms like snakes, ye see, ain't nothing too fancy but when that thing tightens, it's like yer bones start a'creakin' and turns to dust, and you beg, and whimper, and plead like a sick puppy asking fer sweet sweet mutha' death.

He'll look you in the eye, the mutha f'ker, and he'll whisper, "No." "

-Gatro, the 'Nickolas' Patriot's schizophrenia induced narrator, Jack.

Name/Alias: Gatros, the 'Nickolas' Patriot. Otherwise known as Jack.

Looks: Tall, gangly, with under-defined arms without any particular muscular definition, but coiled tight like a rope. Bushy brown hair shaped messily scattered across his skull, with tattoo's of every known designer drink label marked into his back to shape the imagery of a dragon in flight. Wears a simple green tank top, and blue tattered jeans and cloaked in a white trenchcoat. Slung to his hips is 'Mona', as in Lisa, you punk, a .223 rifle caliber revolver the size of New Jersey. (I'm just kidding, it's about as long as your thigh, punk) Eyes like wild-fire, always bright, always smoldering, darts around often.

Age: Unknown, estimated to be around 30's, but hard to tell. Mutha's a sick puppy, face stretched like canvas on a frame too large, and never bloody talks, I tells ya. So I do the talking fer' him.

Brief History: Oh your in fer a right one, punks, but I'll leave this up fer another date. Soon, preciousess, soon.

ooc: So, I'm going to try something new and totally outlandish, if it's too much I'll scrap this character :D I'm going to try to push the crazy as far as it can go, but he's basically the bruiser character. The writing's going to be hell on the eyes, if it's too much, have a word and I'll reconsider.

Maybe :D

[Jolly Rensha]

lol, that looks awesome horned. ;)

SoHee, Geco, best of luck on the thread! ^_^ I'll be reading.

[Mars Lumograph]

I've been meaning to post a person, but for the life of me, I can't get the character out. Grumble.

[Goddimus]

Name: Russell Hanna "Hanna"
Age: 29
Position: Cook/Various

Appearance: A petite man, standing just a few inches over five feet. Light-skinned and wiry. Amber eyes and short black hair trimmed on the sides and back. Of course, as the cook, he generally wears a light-blue beanie to keep his hair out of the food. Although he has no stand-out markings, his naturally effeminate look has been known to draw a second and third glance.

Brief history: Born and raised on an Alliance cruiser in a family of entertainers. A one time jack-of-all-trades with a résumé running from boy-whoring and dancing, to casino "girl" and magician. His lack of dirt-side influence made him a prime candidate for membership of the "Free Radicals" - a private group under Durran Haymer that conducted the actual footwork of the former Alliance officer's plans. Despite being unofficially employed by the Alliance, the group was known to carry out ops against civilian targets on Core planets to expand Haymer's collection of Earth-That-Was antiques.

Post Unification War and Haymer's retirement, a number of members were arrested and executed for war crimes, forcing the survivors into lives on the Rim. Fortunately, with rumblings of a second war on the horizon, those Radicals that are left see a prime opportunity to reapply their skills.

[SoHee]

haha.. I'm looking forward to it Reuben!! :D

Rensh - thanks.

Mars - well this board is still trying to pick up the pace so I would say you have some time... heh

[SoHee]

Goddimus = Fizzy?
I saw you said at the old boards that you put a charrie up, but for some reason I missed it earlier when I posted it above.

either way, welcome!

[Horned15]

Background : So let's tells you a story, see. Brother's a nut-job, whacked out on synth's the day his mama brought him to this sorry piece o' universe.

'e was born in a Monday. Is all he ever was told. Ain't nobody gave a damn on his world. Everyone born on a Monday, see. Once a year, they all grow a year older. Ain't no point giving age to men who ain't worth more than the dirt they sleep on, ye see. Slaves, they calls him. Serfs. Brother worked them mines, young lad o' four when 'e started. Brother never saw his parents. Too dark in them mines. They ain't never left, ain't nobody alive none at least.

Said he killed his first man when the boy's but twelve. I'm thinking he's lying. I'm thinking he was ten, but he says he's twelve, so's I stick with that. Said he's got talent, the sod, says he's real good, not worth keeping him slaved to some sheet job working them death-traps allaway in the darkness. Says they take him out, to the light. To the world. The world where men mattered. A world where HE mattered. A world ruled by madness and depravity, where men sinned and women whored. Laws are whatever the 'ell the richest man says they are. And here, HE was their law-man. Taught him how to kill, the lad. Sweet, sweet lad o' twelve, and they taught him how to carve a man's face in, and 'ow to shoot 'is guts out. The first o' his kind, a brother from da' mines, taught to fight in a world o' light men's wars. They called him Gatro. Means 'Dog'. He likes it. First time anyone's given him a name. Back in the mines, you didn't live long enough to enjoy a name. They beat him, make him mad, I tell you. Boy's got not enough sanity in him to weigh down a puppy. Whack job, 's what he is.

Sho' enough, though, boy turned out good. Damnned good. Too good. Boys back home, didn't like what they see. Boy from the hood, become a man o' the light, a killer o' light boys. They didn't like it one bit.

So's they try to bring him back down to the darkness. He don't like it, you see. He don't like it one bit.

Playa's so far gone up the synth's, he don't quite feels it no more. Ain't nobody wants to feel nuthin' in that joint. Ain't nobody feelin' nothin' once brotha's done with the joint. Bodies stacked up da walls like they wuz some kinda painting. Was beautiful, was beautiful. They ran scared. There ain't no law no more. They ain't DA law no more. Skipped out on 'em on the first cab he found. Found a way out, out o' that world, into da dark, dark space out here. Brought us wit' em. Brother's gold, brother's gold. So here we's are, I speak fer him. Joo don't wanna him to speak wit'cha, you feelin' me? If he talks, you probably too far into pain to hear what he has to say, so just stick wit' talkin' to me, brother, I'll keep ya straight.

ooc: That was a lot more fun to write than I would have thought possible :D

-edit- Ah I've totally forgotten about the position part.

Position - Thug (Or otherwise known more politely as Security Enforcer)

[Goddimus]

Yessa. Goddimus <-> Fizban

Another reference site: http://firefly.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page

[SoHee]

thanks for the link fizzy!

[Mars Lumograph]

Taffrey Tanner
37
Pilot

Taffrey stands just under six feet tall, with an unremarkable build. He has an ungainly step of sorts - what looks like the remnants of a limp or some problem with his balance. He has dark hair, cut down to near nothing, and has a decent layer of stubble over his face except for under his lower lip and chin, in the mutton chop style of many border world aristocrats. He takes pride in dressing 'right proper' and always has a waistcoat and decent shoes, even if neither are particularly new. What makes Taffrey stand out in a crowd is his left hand, or rather, the large metal hook where it once was, held on by a leather harness that holds onto his arm and spreads accross his shoulerblades, allowing it to hold as much weight as his right.

Taffrey is a native of Dyton collony, and has often returned to serve various short prison sentences. He flew a drop ship for the independants during the Unification War, and has bounced around the rim since then.


Short, I know, but he can be fleshed out at a later date. Let me know if you want more.

[SoHee]

Mars - welcome!

We are planning to get things rolling this upcoming weekend.
But it is still open for sign up, so hopefully we'll get some more!

[Mars Lumograph]

glad to be aboard. I could, perhaps, advertise a bit, on another forum or two?