Trade Platform Georgia (Station)

Compilatron

Dumb "Me and the lads come from many walks of life... but I guess you could say the merchant business runs in my blood in particular..."

Jack shakes his head...

"Ah... just old tales of grandeur. T' think this galaxy could hold itself together for more than 5 hours is too much..."

(Want to enter the Scavanger rabbit hole? Might not want to start here)

Dumb

Compilatron (nah, just want to return the ship and stuff)

"Certainly interesting...say, ever heard of the Ancients?"

A weird trajectory for the conversation to go towards, perhaps Dasha ask it to estimate Jack's age, or the wellness of the transition of information in his own network. Despite launching such sharp questions, Dasha's face is still shielded by the usual commercial smile, making it hard to know her intentions

Compilatron

Dumb Jack scratched his head...

"Ancients? I've 'eard of many tales, never heard of "Ancients"... unless yah mean the cultists..."

Dumb

Compilatron "Hmm...well i don't quite know if any of them got cultists, but...sigh....whatever"

Dasha looks...disappointed? it is hard to tell with that smile still hanging there, but the slight lowering of the voice and the wrinkled eyebrows does indicate atleast something, be it a fake illusion or an actual representation

"Well then... to make things short, here are a couple words: Calamity, Cosmolord, Scavengers, United Galaxies, Stellar Assembly, Delta"

Words come out of Dasha's mouth in quick session, while her eyes fixed on Jack's face, capturing any possible movement

Compilatron

Dumb Jack's expression changes on mention of the Scavangers... but he hid his expression well...

"What are yah look'n for miss? Yah ain't gonna find it out here."

Dumb

Compilatron "Eh...just want some good men to be buried well, and tended by their family. But alas, that wish seems to be a bit far-fetched huh..."

Dasha's voice fades away as Jack ease up a bit. It seems he really did hide the expression well...

Perception (Successful if >17)
1d20=20
(welp...)

Or did he?

"Sigh...this can be so much easier if you just say the truth ya know."

Dasha summoned a recording tape as well as rather antique tape player, and after inserting the tape, Dasha throw the player at Jack

"Try hearing it, its probably for you anyway"

(its that tape from the "Head of Development" office XD)

HMS-Hood

HMS-Hood

@Compilatron
"hey boyos, ya hear?" "gah," he thought, "there probably just away from the comms set I could wait but, there's a war out here, and god damn would that be boring so why not?" he docked with station Georgia and popped the canopy when in the hangar bay. not sure if the air system turned on he kept his helmet on along with his supplementary Oxygen tank which was mounted to his upper left thigh via magnets in his slight suit and with the oxygen feeding into his helmet he popped the canopy and made his way to the command bridge, with the spare gear from his fallen comrade strapped to the bottom of his satchel after noticing the fire-locks wide open upon his way to the bridge he feared for the worst, "did enemy soldiers land on the station? if so things are going to get hairy," he thought to himself. pulling out his Makarov pistol and racking the slide, he advanced "let's hope not."
everyone in the bridge could hear the heavy thump of a soldier's boots and then the racking of a pistol slide. to their knowledge d'oro was no back yet so, who could it be?

Compilatron

HMS-Hood Hearing the incoming heavy boots, and Trevor trying his best to hide from Dasha, he readies his balistic pistol with a shakey hand. Back against the wall... his nerves hit him... but he pushes forward in hopes of getting the upper hand.

Trevor rounds the corner and fires!

Roll 1d20 for Trevor's aim: 3
Roll 1d20+5 D'oro's reflexes: 21

Trevor's shot misses by a mile, recoiling off if a pipe behind D'oro. D'oro, however... manages to hold his trigger finger, realising it was just Trevor...

Trevor's face was a pale white...

"Holy shit, knock first!"

Compilatron

Compilatron Jack furrows his eyebrows...

"Where the fuck did you fin..."

Roll 1d20 for Jack's agility: 11
Roll 1d20+1 for Dasha's agility: 3

Jack snatches the record off of Dasha, examining it with utmost scrutiny...

"You're... surely not. I thought those were just tall tales from grandpa...."

Dumb

Compilatron "Its always interesting to see fate intertwines in the weirdest of scenarios, ain't it?"

Dasha fish out a pda listing all the valuables on board of the Scavanger vessel, as well as the vessel itself, and toss it at Jack as well

"Now, do you want to tell the truth or not?"

Compilatron

Dumb "It's... this ship? It's a legend... a fairytale... the old Scavanger mothership... not even my grandpa believed it ever existed... that was before the new Scavangers... then they died out years ago... years ago... "

Jack's face was a mix of emotions...

HMS-Hood

Compilatron
a rather calm D'oro says back to Trevor "well how the hell was I supposed to know that they didn't land forces on the station," d'oro looks at Trevor's stance after he shot his pistol. "christ mate. we're working on your aim." d'oro makes a gesture to Trevor to follow him "come on let's go." it was odd, d'oro acted as if he wasn't even shot at, hell, it looked as if he was more upset in Trevor missing than anything d'oro looked at Trevor again, "oi, did I stutter, come on were working on your aim." and d'oro sighed "mate I'm not mad ya tried to shoot me if anything I'm more mad ya missed now come I got some targets that they let me bring in my plane, well they didn't know about them but... eh." d'oro is soon walking off to his plane

Dumb

Compilatron "Well then...story time perhaps?"

Dasha summon a chair on the place, and simply sit there, waiting

Compilatron

Dumb "I ain't knowing much... but..."

"Well... tale goes that there was some... war a long time ago when the first Scavangers existed... then they evacuated a few bright sparks who started something called the "lightning union"... from there they kinda... rebuilt the Scavanger empire from the ground up... or so it goes..."

"Thing is the story gets a little fuzzy from there... some say economic disaster struck... others say the chain of command broke down..."

Jack shrugs...

"I dunno what to tell yah... and I ain't the one to ask..."

Dumb

Compilatron "Alrighty then, at least you finally admit your own origin"

Dasha stand up and snap her finger, as the chair simply sinks into the ground and disappear with a trace

"Since we are the ones who discover it, of course we get to keep it, but you will receive the requested freighter as well as what your ancestors left behind... As for the backpack, do keep in mind that it is just a prototype, so don't overly rely on it. Anything you want to add before we go?"

Compilatron

Dumb Jack shook his head... feeling rather powerless in the face of Dasha now... who now knew more about his heritage than even he did...

"No... no there isn't..."

Dumb

Compilatron "Well then..."

Dasha walk towards Angelica, and hold one of her hands

"Remember: Your past is what makes you as "you"-"

In an instant, the two is gone from Georgia, leaving behind the tape player as well as the holographic PDA

(continue back in the forge XD)

Compilatron

HMS-Hood Trevor was utterly bewildered... he nearly shot a crewmate, said crewmate seemingly doesn't even care... and if it was an attacker he would probably have died...

Idly he follows D'oro... not sure exactly what he should be thinking...

whyhellothere

Compilatron Three teams with medical professionals and engineers split up, trying to maintain communication once separated.

Compilatron

whyhellothere you... only have one way too go... pick it

whyhellothere

Compilatron Control room then

HMS-Hood

Compilatron "mate, once you've run the ash smoke and brimstone of an artillery bombardment just to be met with machine guns that can blow your head clean off a what? 10mm? 9mm? bullet doesn't scare you anymore, I know there's something to be said here but, I don't know what the hell it is." he said as he turned the corner and took the steel targets out of the small hold in his plane and set them up upon the floor in the hall "so the end goal here is for you to be able to do this"

roll 3d20+8 for aiming at targets
DC of 10< 19, 11, 9
d'oro puts three shots downrange in what appears to be 1 second, the first hit's the center of the target same with the second one the last one however misses its mark entirely you can see d'oro mummer under his breath "what the bloody hell, I could have sworn I had zeroed this in last night" he then takes a second the mess around with the sights and fires again each one hit's its mark perfectly he again shoots them all in a second he then says "that's more like it now you shoot"