The Coming Storm

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This is a summary page for an on-going plot. The scope of the thing is such that, whatever your preference for RP, your character can believably fit into the plot with almost no trouble. I will involve high-speed chases, explosions, mysterious gunmen, radical guerilla's, fuzzy gorilla's, and the potential to make or break people. If you, as a player, have any interest in this plot in any form, please don't hesitate to add your thoughts to the discussion portion of this page. Different episodes will have different victims-- whether they be individual people, entire orgs, or the grid as a whole. The purpose of this page is to keep track of all the goings-on, such that any given player will know all the "important" information, without the need to attend each and every scene.

Contact Information
For any questions relating to the plot as a whole, contact Rose. For dealings with Telephus (one of the bad guy NPC's), talk to Alexa.

What happens when people are pushed too far? How long until someone stands up, draws a line in the sand, and makes their defiant last stand? We find out, in...


Episode 1 -- The Death Race

The Race Of Death

    "Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!" the advertisement crowed. A race would be held on Ariel-- a chance to make a little money, make a lot of glory, or embarrass yourself and be resigned to shame for the rest of your life. It'd been years since anyone had organized a (legal) race of this scope. The Alliance would be there, and damn near every camera crew in the 'verse would slobber for just a chance to get in on the action. If you raced and won, you may as well call yourself king of the racetrack; if you lost, you'd have noone to blame but yourself.

    But things don't always go as planned. And though they didn't know it at the time, the racers were competing for the highest prize of all; life. It's balls to the walls action, in The Race Of Death.

    Participating Players:

In this weeks episode...

With a muffled snort passing through Petre's nostrils before he snags the walkie and gives the man a nod. Reaching towards the box, he activates his microphone before planting his elbows on the desk and leaning forwards to hover over the mic like a vengeful spirit. "... testing. One, two, three..." He glances off to the side before he flashes a toothy smile towards someone and shifting his weight to free an arm, giving the sound crew a thumbs up. "Yes, sah. Ah'll even clean up meh language, sah~." Cheeky lad puffing out his cheeks, he bulges his eyes at the leading announcer before bursting into a fit of laughter-- luckily, a hand going over the receiving end so as not to blast the sound system. Once that is under control, he clears his throat. "Ladies and gents, that was our wonderful leading announcer, Mr. Baxtleby. A good twenty years under his belt... and I'll be his wee co-pilot." *BAM* Off goes the gun shot and those shrill sounds of accelerating engines can be heard. "AND THEY'RE OFF! WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT." <English>

On your marks--
--get set--

The racers lined up coming from every sort of background and status; the ex-browncoat, the cargo runner, the Alliance man-- everyone wanted in on a little piece of the glory, the money, and (of course) that brand spanking new shiny piece of death-on-a-rocket. Six racers started their vehicles, five crossed the finish line, three walked away with a little cash to their name, and one man came out as the victor of it all.

No race-- or, for that matter, event period! --is without its hitches, and the Ariel Grand Plaza Prix was no exception to that rule. Several dozen young men and women checked into the hospital complaining of a ringing in their ears, and one racer barely escaped with her life after suffering a death-defying crash.

Elric pulls ahead as he guns the bike and picks up the rythum of the turns. His quick reflexes and balance help immensely here and let him and the machine both shine as he takes the lead. The finishline in sight he dumps in the fuel flies toward the and over the line.

But as the race came to a close, the events "hitches" took on a harrowing turn, as a group of men masquerading as event staff terrorized the crowd. After subduing Kallahan, the as-yet unnamed group proceeded to make an example of the man, calling him a traitor whilst administering a vicious public beating.

Is that-- is that Kallahan? Four or five men dressed in Event-Staff uniforms carefully drag the man up to the raised wooden platform, where the announcer-guy is still leaning against the podium. "Ladies and gentleman, I'd like your attention please," he smilingly says to the microphone. "I'd like to tell you all a little something about treason." As he speaks, a few of the floating camera's and screens sink to a level just above him, as though creating a curious sort of 'circle' over the mans head. <English>

As Alliance officers closed in on the scene, all hell broke loose, as several vigilantes scattered the terrorists, and-- in amazing feats of marksmanship --took down several of the offenders without a single misplaced shot or civilian casualty.

While the racers in question most certainly deserve to be praised, a more pressing concern seems to beg attention; who were those men? Why was Kallahan considered a traitor? And-- god forbid there should be more of them --could a second attack be prevented before it reached such a terrifying crescendo of violence?

Race Results
   Six racer teams competed in the race for a variety of prizes. Each team was composed of two members; a racer and a techie:
      Lisa/Elric            (1st place)
      Aubrey/Cache          (2nd place)
      Babbage/Nataliya      (3rd place)
      Din Viesel/Kallahan   (4th place)
      Adrian/Brenn          (5th place)
      Templeton/Tristan     (6th place)
   The racers competed for 500c, 200c, and 100c-- for first, second, and third, respectively. Furthermore, the first place winner
   received a new, limited edition "Experimental Design" bike; The LE Firebird XM8.

Next time, on "The Coming Storm!"

Mysterious figures resurface, and strange men in masks decide to take the 'verse by storm. Will the Alliance stand for such behavior-- or can even they, greatest of all the governments, even stop it?

Episode 2 -- My Bloody Valentine

My Bloody Valentine
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    "Roses are red, violets are blue," the old poem goes. Whoever had written it wasn’t much of a poet, as remarking on the color of foliage is terribly boring, in the grand scheme of things. I mean c’mon, you can’t at least put an ounce of effort into touching each other one of the senses? The way that elegant flowers scent wafts into your nostrils, the almost heady way it takes control of your mind; how the silken petals seem to remind you of forgotten loves-- or, better yet, of the possibility of love starting anew, of that one brief moment where a young couple can be formed.

    Love, however, does not preclude the possibility of violence. Will our intrepid heroes find out what feels so wrong about this Valentine’s Day Bash, or will they end up with more heartbreak than they can handle? Roses are red, and poems are asinine; watch yourselves, it’s My Bloody Valentine.

    Participating Players:
Alexa, Blake, Braenen, "Catwoman", Clark, Daniel Redcrow, "Dame Anastasia", Emerald, Karen Aiko, Koraline, "Penguin", Rose (GM), Telephus (NPC/GM), Weylin

In this weeks episode...

It was a really fine shindig - Chinese lanterns and luminarias set up all over Ezra's Public Market, and several thousand turned out on the summery evening to celebrate Valentine's Day. Just a few oddities to be spotted... a few folks leaving the party on the early side, carrying red backpacks, and sober. But in a crowd of thousands, most in costume and having a good time, who really notices the weirdos?

Well, when one crashes into a couple of party goers, breaks down, and throws up on their feet, they might notice... especially when he bolts off leaving a backpack behind.

Blake moves toward the backpack the kids drops, as the kid suddenly decides he wants to be elsewhere. Something isn't right, and he gets a funny feeling about it all. He looks at Anastasia and Clark, and motions to them to step away, quickly, and takes the backpack away from Anastasia. "Get back, get away from that. Something's not right." He looks quickly around, looking at the kid trying to get away, crying harder than before, drunk and acting scared and out of sorts, and then at the rest of the gathered crowd. He frowns, and thinks for a moment, shaking his head, "I don't like this. Something's going to happen. And it's not going to be good. I think I saw something going on when I was on the way here. I don't know."

Someone messed with the sound system, too. "Sweet Emotion" started blasting at ear-splitting levels, almost covering the sound of explosions from the spaceport. And then,

For just a moment, there's no sound in the air-- none other than the song playing, at least. And then, even that stops. Or rather, 'stops' doesn't seem to be the appropriate word, given that its vibrations can still be felt; for just a fraction of a second, it's as though your ears stop working, you go deaf to the world. For a fraction of a second, time seems to slow down, the world spins dizzily--
--and then there's sound. Sound, and light, and heat; a series of explosions rock the marketplace, but even before they fill the air, you can feel the heat, you can see the light, the almost beautiful flames billowing out like deathly flowers. One, two, three, four-- all in seemingly random places --and five, as the backpack in Blake's hand erupts into flames, throws the man (and any standing near it) away from the deadly epicenter.

Several party goers began chasing after the evening's unusual "host", Telephus, who seemed to have anticipated the explosions. Shots were fired...

Telephus gives something of a shake of his head, as bullets fly to either side of him. "Another day, my friends," he calls out to Weylin and Alexa. Alas, for all his cool and calm demeanor, there /was/ something he hadn't quite counted on; Karen. He jerks for a moment as the woman's bullet connects with his shoulder, and stumbles back some with something of a snarl, before turning his back on the group, quite clearly content on /getting the hell outta there/. The fire between him and the 'group at large' gets bigger...but other than searing hot flames, there were no /physical/ obstructions immediately in the way.

At least one of the man's accomplices was shot down while trying to get him into a building. He made it inside anyway, and Karen entered the building after him, alone. Following several more gunshots, she dragged the man back out and into custody.

Meanwhile, a full medical response immediately started up among the stricken party goers. Teams from the Guan-Yin II arrived, joining doctors who were already on scene in treating the many injuries caused by the bombing.

ANN newswaves attribute the attack to the Sons Of Liberty and place the casualty count around three hundred, with hundreds more injured. They also noted, it could have been much, much worse.

Next time, on "The Coming Storm!"

Cellular devices began their ubiquity back in the final centuries of Earth-That-Was; today, only those who have something to hide avoid carrying an icomm on their person-- and even then, dozens of cortex-enabled devices can likely be found on them. Quite frankly, “staying off the grid” is no longer an option; we need the grid, and we rest against it like an almighty crutch. It is impossible for us to leave the grid-- but what would happen if the grid left us?

Episode 3 -- Darkness Falls

Darkness Falls
Halloween moon.jpg

    Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight
Wish I may, wish I might,
Find my way home safe tonight.
For when the stars are all I see,
I pray to god that he helps me;
When the grid falls, not all the king’s horses, nor all the king’s knights,
Will keep me alive tonight.


In this weeks episode...