Our new Indie Games subforum is now open for business in G&T. Go and check it out, you might land a code for a free game. If you're developing an indie game and want to post about it, follow these directions. If you don't, he'll break your legs! Hahaha! Seriously though.
Our rules have been updated and given their own forum. Go and look at them! They are nice, and there may be new ones that you didn't know about! Hooray for rules! Hooray for The System! Hooray for Conforming!
It is the year 815.M41, and you have no idea what is going on.
They came for you, suddenly and without warning. Maybe they got you while you were sleeping, maybe they picked you up outside your favorite bar… maybe they simply asked you to come down to the station. However they went about it, the local arbites came and took you into custody – for what, they would not say. They relieved you of your weapons and put you in a holding cell on a small transport craft. If you were particularly resistant, you might have even been knocked unconscious, coming to behind bars with shackles on.
Days follow. You were kept fed and they treated you reasonably well. But no one ever told you why you were detained, or where you were being taken. Finally, you are told that your destination has been reached, and the arbites lead out of the transport, onto the small, well-maintained landing pad. There you are handed over to guards sharply-dressed in uniforms of green and gold, who, you realize, are definitely not arbites. They blindfold you and after a journey down a lift and many minutes of being led roughly by your escorts, your blindfold is removed, and they leave, locking the door to the room behind you.
The room is approximately six metres square, and furnished only with four plain chairs. There are three other people in the room.
The individuals present are:
Stands at 1.75m and a wiry 65kg. He has a dark olive complexion, with black hair and grey eyes (similar in appearance to someone from Old Terra India). Clad in the traditional robes of the Administratum, he carries many of the tools of the trade, most notably a well-used auto-quill. His apperance might be considered pleasing to the eye, if it weren't for the metallic plates dominating much of the left side of his face and neck. Scar tissue encircles the plate, the result from both the original burns and the medical procedure performed to attach the underlying bionics.
Parthus of Termeus:
Parthus stands at 1.75 meters tall and weighs 65 kilos, a lanky fellow sporting a terse beard and thick curling black hair. His body is formed of tightly woven muscle and a multitude of scars that mark him as a survivor of his home planet, as well as a detailed account of his victories over deadly prey and accomplishments as a mercenary. Aside from the pink and red scars that have covered up most of his natural features, his skin is an almost albino white; a token from the darkness provided by the omnipresent tent-trees of his homeworld.
Average height and build. A middle-aged, bronze-skinned man with black hair and green eyes that contrast greatly with the purple war paint that decorates his skin. He has several gold earrings and rings on, and a necklace of various animal teeth - including human. (Detailed description to be posted later.)
Boaz Mirosal Calvarius-Kornel:
Stands 1.75m tall, weighs 105kg. A sneering, oily, heavy clergyman dressed in high-collared black and white robes, touting numerous gold ornaments, icons, books, and bone charms. His short black hair is slicked back and various tubes & wires run though his neck. A pair of clockwork eyepieces sit low on his large hooked nose.