The Realms of Oddverse

"Hey, listen up everyone," said Siderial quietly, meaning that even those who heard him ignored him. He sighed and pushed gently off the ground, letting the momentum propel him upwards until he settled just in front of the ship's wheel.

He drew a raygun and shot at the deck a couple of times until most were quiet, then grazed a couple of the talkers in the knees. He blew the steam from his gun and holstered it.

"No, listen up and listen good," he said. "I don't want to raise my voice for this, because, uh, I can't."

"My leg! Xiao-Lu Christ, my leg!"

"Shut up, please," replied Siderial, quickly getting him in the other leg. "Now, there's good news and bad news. Good news is that we're being chased by a small fleet of zombie ships because I pissed off one of the necromancers responsible."

"Explain how that's good," asked a short female pirate towards the front of the crowd.

"They haven't caught us." Siderial rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the stars sailing by outside. "We're faster and more, what's the word, manu'vrable. However, the bad news is that we're low on supplies and basically if we keep going on like this we're buggered."

"Fair enough," replied the pirate, looking more worried than she had been a moment ago.

"If we try and stop, those zombie ships will catch up to us and... well, yeah. There's not many places to go right now, and even fewer places to resupply at. There's an inhabited system just nearby, but you all know what they'll do if we bring undead in there."

The assorted pirates nodded glumly, knowing full well the threats they themselves had imparted on those foolish enough to attract the hungry eyes of the undead.

"There's Anansi Minor nearby, isn't there?" One of the pirates had his hand half-raised, a hopeful look on his scarred face. "I heard that place is full of jungles big enough to hide a ship."

"Yeah, an' it's also full of bloody giant spiders," said another pirate, this one twice as scarred as the first and almost half as tall. "Buggers as big as trucks that'll eat anything smaller'n them. I saws one, at the circus. They'd done trained it up to eat an 'ole ephelant."

"Boze's Star," said one of the younger pirates, but everyone around his pushed him roughly to shut him up.

"Sure, Boze's Star, then he can blow us up an' the zombies too," said the female pirate who'd spoken up earlier. "That bastard's ten times as grumpy as he was last century. There's no way he'd let us in, not unless one of us was a friend."

"We have to go somewhere," snapped Siderial. "We can't keep going this direction forever, not with the few supplies we've got left. And, in case you didn't know, the direction we're going in will take us straight into Undead space if we keep going."

"So, gunman, what do we do? I mean, you're first mate an' all," a big, burly pirate said defiantly. "I mean, you know more'n us. Make a decision."

Siderial frowned - they were right. He had to do something, make a decision, take them somewhere, get them away and safe from the Vorschaefans. But there was a risk - there was always a risk - that he couldn't afford to take. This was a dilemma, a problem that needed some serious thought.

"My leg! You faery bastard!"

REALITY RECOMMENCES AT PRECISELY MIDNIGHT, SOVIET TIME

SEE YOU THERE, COMRADES

Something I puzzled over while on holiday was the speed limit in Oddverse no matter how I worked it out, it was impossible to have a limit that allowed for Yuri's etherflight to take place while keeping it low enough for it to take a decent while to get from one side of the galaxy to another.

So, everyone has to say thanks to my brother, who spent more time studying physics than I did (I'm more a biology man). Using ideas from the post-Maxwellian pre-Einsteinian era - don't ask me when that was, I don't think I even got the names right - he's made a working set of physics for the Oddverse. Back in those times, they thought the universe was filled with a gas called (surprise) ether. Basically, it allows for faster-than-light travel, because of something important I forgot whilst doing my own calculations.

In space, it is not about the speed limit. It is about the acceleration. I may have to correct this if I make a mistake, but according to my brother an acceleration of 3G (three earth gravities) would mean a ship would take 10 days to travel 10 lightyears. An acceleration of 1G would make the same journey last 17 days.

If the ship's maximum acceleration was 3G, then it'd be more sensible to take the extra week travelling than not leave any room to accelerate in case of attack or emergency. The ship has to figure out the distance they need to travel, and spend half the trip accelerating and the other half deccelerating. That's the best way to do things, though currently the Black Hole has no real destination and it just ramming through the ether at 5G.

Which brings me to this: accelerating at 5G would, in theory, mean that you'd have to put up with five times normal gravity for the entire trip. Luckily, the Oddverse has the gravity planer, or just planer, which effectively cancels out the gravity on board a ship and affects whatever normal gravity the owner's set it to. This is a good thing, as the Black Hole's engines are at the aft, and we'd all be squished together

(For reference, 1G is equal to 9.8 meters per second per second. So for every second the Black Hole travels, its speed increases by 49 meters per second. It'd take about 1,700 hours for it to get to lightspeed (299,792,458 meters per second) at this rate, but if Nemma pushed the engines flat-out as fast as they can go, the acceleration would be about 12.5G - however, that's fairly dangerous.)

Anyway, speeds: Dragons can push themselves to 1.8G at most, but prefer speeds around 1G. Sorcerers are usually travelling about 5G leisurely, but can push themselves to do three times that if they have no regard for personal safety or pain. They have no planers, so they feel ever single G unless they cancel them out - trickier the faster they go. Yuri, being pretty powerful, can do this better than most others, so his top speed's around 25G before he kills himself.

Most ships do about 1-5G, but save the 3-5G range for maneuvering and escapes. The more expensive ships, Capitalist and Nobility, can go to about 15G maximum (the Black Hole's fast, but not exemplary) but after that you need specially reinforced planers to cope - something that's too expensive for either Capitalists or Nobility to put in any ship but those that deserve it.

Carrion hulks, the Undead carrier ships, only do about .7 maximum. Their size and age, not to mention their low numbers, mean that they rarely risk being destroyed or captured. They mostly stay within the Undead systems, only emerging when they desperately need fresh blood.

I think that's about it. Hope you bothered to read this!

I was looking through the early posts of the most successful LJ RPG I ever played, and I found that early on we had made a post in which everyone told what their GMT was and what times of the day they were online. You can find your GMT here.

Please reply to this with just one comment, but if you play more than one character, tell us who you play. Then tell us what your GMT is, and what normal clock times you are usually online or available for RP. These are not set in stone or anything, just general guidelines so we can get an idea of when we can expect replies and format our posting around that.

For example, here is mine:

My characters are:
captain_blink
dread_afanasy

My GMT is: -7 GMT

I am usually on in the late afternoon or evening, anywhere from 2:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. This is Tuesday - Friday and Sunday. Mondays and Saturdays I have a meeting with other comic artists.

Since I am currently unemployed, my schedule is going to be more flexible than some other people's, and I can work around to try and glue RP together.

Hopefully this will help facilitate smoother RP. For those of you that do not know, GMT is the Prime Meridian--the line that goes vertically over the globe through Greenwich. For an example, since I am -7, and faerygunman is 0, I can assume that if I am online at the same time as he and it is 6:00 p.m. here, then it is 1:00 a.m. for him.

Thanks all! :)

Psst...Jon, could you mark this post as a memory? (I am not sure if I can do that or not)

When Captain Blink stepped back out into the main deck, he found that his mere twenty minute absence¹ had caused him to miss a whole bloody lot.

Siderial was munching on something that looked as if it tasted like the carpet, looking quite ill. There was an unconscious man whose slack facial features were lined as if he had been doing nothing but smoking for the past ten years. There was a girl with spider legs, a woman with scarlet skin, and several other strange persons standing about. Most of them looked up expectantly when he entered, though he had to clear his throat loudly to hush a few of them, who apparently still thought the captain was a demon frog. This foppishly dressed young man with the unkempt hair was not registering as authority. Yet.

He wanted to yell, "What the bloody hell is going on?" or perhaps "All of you, into the brig this goddamned second!"

However, that would be a very poor move, since the rest of his crew were eaten by and/or became zombies. He cringed. Gourmet Jim's news was definitely best given to him in secret as it had been; he had taken nearly ten minutes just to get through the shock. It was not as if he had particularly liked any of them, but he could trust them, and he knew they and their habits very well. Apparently, the lot of them happened to either be in taverns or unconscious on the dock when Blink and Siderial had warped back on the Black Hole, and the crew he thought was manning the engines was actually an entirely different set of uninvited guests, whom he would have to acquaint himself with as they fled.

Or rather, partially invited, he amended as he thought about the flyers. Dammit, holding a piece of paper doesn't make you hired, he thought with more than a touch of snarkiness.

"Well," he said, forcing a smile. "For those of you new on the ship, allow me to explain why we are all going to get along until next port, and the rules that we are going to use to facilitate that happy relationship.

"First of all, there was a bit of necromancy back there, and now the purveyors of that fine, odorous art have been equipped with hundreds, possibly thousands, of zombie pirates and vessels on which to place them. I probably do not need to explain to you that makes this area of space extremely dangerous to those of us who are living, or in the case of the Grand Sorceror Afanasy, really close to it. At the next port, we can sort out who wants to stay and who wants to go, but for now, there is only one way any of you are getting chucked overboard, and that is by breaking my rules.

"This isn't the kind of pirate ship that runs on a vote, and it never has been. This is my ship, and if you crew it, I owe you my gratitude but not my leniency. The first rule is, No fighting on the ship. If you've a tiff with another crew member, you bloody well hold it in until we're on land, and then you can duel to the death if you feel the need. But this is our home, and fighting could do anything from scratch the wood to blow a hole through the hull, and that'd be mighty unfair to those of us who have better tempers.

"ANYONE fighting will be THROWN OFF, no matter where we are. I have never been more serious, and I will take no excuses.² If I can keep from slitting Afanasy's throat, you can certainly keep from throwing a punch at someone whose lips loosen up after too much rum." With this, the captain threw a curious glance at the weakened Siderial. That story will be luscious, he thought with an inward sigh.

"The second rule is, Follow orders obediently from your superiors. I can see just by looking over you lot that some of you are not used to being trifled with, but that doesn't mean you ought to be trifling with those in command. Your First Mate," he said, swallowing as he filled the post on the spot with the most trustworthy person he could think of, "Is that gunslinging faery over there munching on the cardboard, or whatever it is he has. Bloody hell, what IS that, Siderial?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. He shook his head and waved his hand limply before the faery could answer.

"Third rule is, Loot is split evenly amongst the crew. Whatever we take, everyone gets a cut, whether they actually helped fight or not. The cook isn't expected to go out and risk his throat for you, but he makes your damn food, so you'll share with him and not hold a grudge over it. Same goes for the doctor, er, when we have one, and the mechanic."

Blink took a deep breath.³ "Siderial apparently has been in a scuffle; I'll not ask about it, since it was definitely pre-rules announcement. Just keep in mind it's not to happen again--that's your first mate, and anyone treating him any less than proper is going overboard from this point on."

He shared a dark look out over his accidental crew, and when sure they understood, nodded, his face relaxing into its normal hint of a smile.

"Right. Well, I've not met most of you," he said, failing to keep the withering sarcasm out of his voice, "So if you could just go round the room and tell me who you are, how you got on my ship, and what you're good at, we'll make a stab at working together as a crew and getting the hell out of zombie pirate infested space. In fact, come to that, I haven't much idea where we are going, so tack on a suggested destination to your introduction, if you please."

He waited, leaning on the helm with one eyebrow cocked in askance at the silent faces.




[OOC:
¹ Okay look, gimme a break. :P Hahaha. I am going to try my best not to be gone so long again! Shit happens. ;)
² Including "But I paid $5 for this account!" There are plenty of reasons for not fighting--use your imagination to keep your character under control.
³ Sorry for this long post, but I had to get all these in here :)

While Athenry was in full flame, the few crew who weren’t watching the refueling of Siderial spotted, through Nemma’s scanners, an ominously spherical, ominously wooden ship heading towards them. The call of "Monkship" went up throughout the Black Hole, followed by a general "Oh shit..." All hands who weren’t working (and that was most of them) crowded around Nemma for further updates

3.82 light-years away, Ian was crawling through a tiny Monkship airlock. Luckily, he was skinnier than even most of the monks, so it was relatively easy going. His metal elemental bobbed along behind him, sensing something was up. Ian paused in the secondary isolation chamber for a moment to take it all in. It was 5 months since they took him off of that asteroid, and it was 5 months he wanted to forget as soon as possible. They hadn’t been inhospitable, per se. One could even venture to say he was treated rather well. However, nearly half a year on a big ole wooden tub full of monks was a terrible experience. The whining, the complaining, the guilt, the library. Indeed, in the library he’d spent most of his time, finding only 3 books of any use whatsoever, and several thousand accounts of "Events and people to feel badly about." But now it was all over. There was another ship nearby, and it was finally over. Ian slapped the lock release and began to breathe the ether.

It wasn’t painful, the ether. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. Granted, he had to maintain his presence of will within himself quite strongly, but it wasn’t bad. It just tasted funny. Like stale sweetbread, he thought, with a little bit of chili pepper thrown in. Well, time for action. Ian held his arms just right, threw them out just right, and voila! Flight. He waved to the good (in a sense) brothers and jetted off.

Back on the Black Hole there was a sigh of relief as it was seen that the monkship was (slowly) turning away from them. Most of the crew quickly got back to what they were doing, mainly watching Siderial and Athenry or tormenting Captain Demon Frog. Nemma started beeping, and all eyes turned towards where the monkship had been. The more keen eyes in the crew saw a purplish spec heading towards them quite fast, growing larger by the second. The spec soon took on the form of a human in flight, decelerating it’s true, but far to late and far too slowly for a safe landing. Ian saw the rapidly approaching ship, barely had time for a, "Well, thank god for life support," and then human hit ship, still traveling at a fast (in land terms) speed of 257.6 kph with a resounding thud.

This is Jon, in a quick possibly-going-to-be-deleted-later-on post to break the silence. A few words, before the meat of the matter: A new post, from one of my characters, will probably be up before the end of the week. I'm almost done with a major Realverse project and I wish to celebrate by abandoning my life in favour of roleplaying. Yay.

Now, down to business. The Oddlopedia: a veritable cacophony of information, collected from the nine corners of the galaxy and condensed down into a nicely ordered... thing.

However, it is barely complete. I think there's about thirty articles complete, bonus points if you can find them all without just clicking through them all in order. Most tend to link to one another, and most are small and insignificant, if that helps.

Because it is incomplete, I am giving you - my wonderful players, whom I adore so very much so - the chance to influence me. Basically, if there's a particular article which intrigues you and I have not yet finished or started it, just say and I'll get right on it. Also, anything not on the list that you wish to know about you can suggest too. If more than two of you want the same article, I'll work on it twice as hard.

If no one responds to this post within, say, a week, I'll delete it good and proper.

Siderial half-fell out of his bunk and limped toward the stairs. He felt weak, too weak to fly or hover, or even phase. His boots thudded on solid wood, and he eased himself up to the deck above. His clothes felt loose, even his trousers, and a close inspection of his arm revealed his was actually much thinner than he had been a few short hours ago. He reckoned he had about a day to find a sun and recharge. Until then, human food and electrical charges would sustain him.

Just so long as I don't get into a confrontation with baldy again, he thought mournfully. That ice... burned. No, fire burned - a sharp pain for the merest moment. Ice... chilled. It got into his bones - or where his bones would be - and drained him. It was like dying in slow motion.

As he stepped up on deck he stumbled, but managed to steady himself in time. Blink, still in... whatever form that could possibly be classed as, was being harassed by a group of strange, ill assorted humans. Frankly, any one of them on their own could be described as ill assorted. Most of them were waving pieces of paper, Nemma included, who seemed adamant to speak to Blink before certain others did. Siderial smiled wearily, knowing that it may involve spanners at dawn.

Blink was in no position to speak with him alone, then. Worrying, considering what he'd... learnt of the Vorschaefans, but it could wait for a moment. He'd have to duck out when they passed the next star, though, regardless of whether he'd spoken to Blink or not. The feeling of constant exhaustion was almost painful, in a way.

He slumped down against the hull, his huge eyes staring out at the distant stars passing by. He winced in hunger and let his head flop down, away from the tempting glitter. He needed to rest and eat, try and gain as much energy as he could without eating Blink out of house and home.

"I knew there was a reason I was keeping you around," Blink muttered to Siderial, feeling queasy from the method of travel. He had expected the amphibian demon form he was wearing to be more resilient, and scowled. "Right, we're getting out of here right now. We will just have to look for crew at some other port."

"ALL HANDS!" he yelled, hopping up into the main deck from the hold, where Siderial's shadow travel had deposited them. A few of the crewmates raised weapons until they heard the slight lisp at the end of "handth"; then they shuttled off to their positions obediently. To Blink's immense surprise, when the ship took off, he found he should have been wearing his seatbelt. He was thrown forward by the ship's booming jolt, his sticky frog belly squashed up against the wheel and all the breath gone out of him.

"Is that a tank of dragon pee getting burned in your cylinders, or are you just happy to see me?" he murmured when he could speak again, patting the wheel affectionately. It was only a few moments later, when they were safely zooming away from the sorcerous vampire/metamorph-led zombie infestation, that he looked up to discover the crew he had never hired clutching their flyers and looking at him expectantly.

The demon frog cocked its head in disbelief at what he found before him, which was hard since it had no neck. Its liberally fanged mouth dropped open in a cartoonish gape, showing a bizarre purple tongue and a matching uvula. It tried to say, "What the hell are you doing safely getting away from the zombies without either proper payment or having been hired first?!" but all that came out was a mucuousy 'ribbet.'

Afanasy laughed.

[OOC: Anyone that did not actually play a scene getting their character on board can write it in their journal or have a flashback at some other point--for now we will just assume you are stowaways, crew that got lost looking for the captain, etc. and just got trapped on the ship :) If anyone now playing wants to put a new character in this is probably the best way to do it. Unless you are sitting with PJ on a deserted planet waiting for us to scoop you up.]

Afanasy's long life was partially sustained by a spell that simply would not let him die. He always had time to fix any major wounds, even if he had to wait a few days, weeks, or months until he found a safe place to do so and his hands stopped shaking. It was rather a pain in the arse, actually, but he had done it a few times over the years. Once a werewolf had taken off his leg and he had immediately killed the blasted thing and put the leg back on, grumbling ill-naturedly about the extra work the cur had caused him. Another time he had a mild stroke and it took him a very long time to heal it, since he could not remember three of the words to the spell, but eventually he figured it out and cleansed himself of the impairment.

When he slipped into the most secret part of the ship, however, where he had been hopefully hoarding his share of their treasures so that he might have enough to buy himself a quiet retirement, he saw something that caused a severe heart attack. There was a dragon sleeping on his gold, HIS GOLD, and it was three times his height in length. Even his maggot crawled round to the back of his neck, trembling.

"Hopping Beelzebub," he swore hoarsely.

He had spent a month trying to figure out how to make his own space in the hold that even Blink would not notice. Finally, he had a plan. He sealed off one of the store-rooms so that it was not openable from the outside. Then he cast a spell over it, directing the attention of onlookers so that it would seem like the wall. The only entrance was a new and secret one, mechanical in case the spells should fail. He had no idea how a dragon could have found it.

It must have been that damnable captain. He must have found it, and put a dragon there.

Afanasy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Possibly the creature would be willing to deal, perhaps to share if they could work something out. He had already given it up as his own--he was fierce sometimes still, but it was nothing to count on.

What he had been counting on was all that gold. Damn.