Brave Galaxy is set in a world loosely based on Hiro Mashima’s Fairy Tail and Eden’s Zero. It is a PG-13 or so rated space fantasy RP, and uses a combination of character statistics, which can be acquired via roleplaying and events, and creative freedom to help direct players’ characters. While there is a main storyline, which can be found in the events section, characters are free to interact with others and their environment however they see fit.
Explore the galaxy. Overcome the obstacles in your path. Shape the future of humanity.
Another backwash town, and another chance to add a few hard-earned credits to his pockets. Or that had been the plan when Aedris had rolled up in this little mining hamlet, the sort where trouble was not too far away. Usually, he was trying to mediate that trouble. With his axe. Aedris was not a fan of himself being the in the centre of it all. And definitely not in the sort of trouble that left his head in the line of fire.
Ducking behind yet another work shed. Only a hundred or so foot away from the entrance to the mine; the life blood of this town. The mage was doing everything he could to try and keep the eyes of the guards away from himself. They had been hunting him for the last hour, since the person who had hired him for a little ‘protection’ during meeting some bigshot had been offed by a rather serious hooded figure, the sort that had likely been paid a lot more than he had to do the dirty.
This far south on the moon it was no surprise that there were those around who would do such work. If he had more of a stomach for it, and a much larger love of coin, Aedris could likely fall into that profession himself. But the act was not the thing that troubled him. What worried him was the motive. Was it for the betterment of the town or someone’s own gains? And if it was the latter, was he next on this shadowy person’s list? But there was no time to contemplate the question. Aedris’ only thoughts were the aridic bile in his mouth. The sickly burning mixed with the iron tones of blood. The sort that was splattered across his face. Not his own, but the person who had hired him. A man who would no more be able to pay him any more for the protection services, then he could take another breath. The only other thought he had right now through, escaping from the men who were hunting him down like a dog. Were they this town’s justice, or just a clean-up crew? He wasn’t going to give them the chance to answer that question.
“Fff..” the mage stifled, trying not to cry out when a stray nail scrapped a few inches deep into the back of his neck. A group of three guard. They sounded no more than ten steps away, just around the other side of his hiding place. His appearance at a murder scene with an axe strapped across his back would have raised suspicions on a good day. But with a dozen credit chips in hand, and face and sides splattered in blood, that was a whole different matter.
Aedris remained perfectly still. Unable to move without causing noise. The nail still painfully sticking into his flesh. Blood trickling down his back. He needed a way to get out of the situation. He needed out now, but with the number of guards that had suddenly appeared. Each one holding a weapon that could take him down a good mile away. A more covert escape was required.
“Check around the storage sheds. He can’t have gotten far.” With that, the crunching footsteps of military boots on gravel became quieter, moving back towards the town, but most importantly away from Aedris. Now was his chance. The Mage pulled himself up, the searing pain in his neck fading. Releasing his breath, one he did not realise he was holding. It took twelve strides to the next shed. A quick moment to breathe. Once again, a glance around at the other pack of guards. Just on the far side of the entrance to the mine. A few more strides. Another shelter from view, a partially opened cabinet full of pickaxes and helmets. His last moments to inhale and question his resolve.
The last few strides covered the most distance, but were done in half the time. They were the most painful. Lunging forward. Dashing with panic. Galloping headfirst into the dim opening of the mines. Aedris finally vanished from the view of the guards. His heartbeat so loud in his ears, it deafened him to any other sounds around. The setting sun behind the mage, hopefully not being his last.
He had entered the Antechamber of the mine. A large cavernous room of rock and metal. Numerous irons worn tunnels of dark rock snaked out into the earth below. Large boxes, twice his height, and larger than ten men across were scattered around. Fresh dust of recently moved rock still clinging like static to their surfaces. This was the main staging area that signalled the beginning of the descent into the moon’s surface. For now, this would be his respite whilst he waited out his hunter’s patience. Guards would only remain so vigilant for so long. This was the south after all. Murder was as common as bathing. In that you knew at least one person who did it at least once a month.
The mines were the main source of income for the people this far from the northern city. The land was too arid for crops. The little water, too alkali for much life. But they had the rocks. Or what was in them at least. The mineral Irocyte. One that was most effective at blocking communication signals and sensors when worked correctly, or if enough of it was in the air. A particularly valuable resource, but one that generally was too expensive to procure with ease. The stone had a nasty habit of disrupting all but the most finely calibrated robots and machinery. The type of tech that was too valuable to be used in the dead side of a backwash moon. Instead, they used the cheap but burly labour of down and out frontier folk. The sorts who called this particular town home.
“Chance of explosion” Aedris said, curdling his words at his small the print was on the health and safety sign to one side of the antechamber. “Great.” The words came out in little more than a sigh. The mage skulked past a few of the larger containers, looking for a crevice to shuffle into. “If the guards don’t sling me up, I’ll be used to paint the mines.” The words were as cheery as he could muster in the situation. Almost silent, but stark.
Scooting in between two large boxes to crouch down. With one hand he applied pressure to the wound on his neck. The other attempted to wipe as much blood as he could from his face. His efforts were in vain, his employer’s blood had long since dried, and his own was already pooling around his neck. There was little he could do about either besides pressure for one, and thoughts of a few drinks in a town over once he got out for the other. Little, was at least something.
In the vast expanse of space, it was only inevitable that trouble would begin to brew; such was the nature of things when there was so much empty space and so many places to hide. Asteroid belts and pulsar stars with electromagnetic radiation hid deserters from navy fleets, roving pirates looking to fleece the convoys that traveled the hyperspace lanes between star systems. Nebulas that spanned the breadth of multiple star zones that interfered with the navigational capabilities and deflectors of defense fleets, seeking to police the stars. This and more did the ISC Navy deal with on a perennial basis, and to the corvette that had just entered a nondescript mining system, they were no strangers to trouble.
From every scorch mark, every peel in the nanite paint, the SCS El Facil had weathered it all. Pirate skirmishes at the Eridanus Starzone, smugglers attempting to breach the Gate of Tannhauser with illegal contraband, the erratic flares of a dying star in the Antares Corridor.
But sometimes, trouble showed up where one least expected it. Like in the Onyx Sector within the Federation of Fioran States. And sometimes, trouble took the place of something that the crew of the El Facil had little experience in. That being, pertinent information relating to a certain mining conglomerate's expenditures. Pertinent information, and a discrepancy in refined Irocyte. Irocyte, the strategic resource highly coveted for its applications in energy chaff solutions and signal jamming. Irocyte, worth more than gold in the intergalactic black market.
"Station O-559, this is the SCS El Facil. Requesting clearance to land."
"El Facil, you are cleared to dock at Berth M3. Maintain present course."
"Acknowledged, Station O-559."
A loud roar announced the presence of the gunmetal grey brick of a warship, and soon did it grind to a halt, its plenitude of vector thrusters angling in all directions. Slowly, surely did it descend onto a platform of aging plasteel and tarnished blast alloy, marked with the scorches of a thousand thruster blasts. And emerging from the gangplank did a pair of ratings emerge to complete docking procedures for the vessel, followed by a scruffy lieutenant in a crinkled navy uniform.
With eyebags as large as the moons of Chorus, and unkempt locks of hair that put birds' nests to shame, Danylo was certainly far from the image of a prim and proper ISC officer, treading gingerly onto the moon's arid, cracked soil. Lunar dust swirled in the air with each step that he took, away from the corvette and toward a vantage point overlooking the station. It was a rudimentary facility, all things considered; a prime example of function over form, meant for the transportation of the moon's valuable minerals off-world. Pre-fabricated buildings lined the station, built from lunar concrete, plasteel, and polymer spray; the basic building substance of the quintessential off-world colony. A scene like this would not be out of place in the Outer Rim, or the Ice Comet Stations of the Isborn-Bellumese Commonwealth that supplied valuable water for the intergalactic populace.
But he was no traveler, here to bear witness to the miners and their onerous toil. The visit onto this planet was purely a business matter, and he was here to enforce it. For when there were discrepancies with a strategic resource that had potential military applications, that meant that there were ledgers to be audited, inventory stocks to be inspected. A mining conglomerate and its branch office to be investigated.
And where first to start than the mines themselves?
With a big iron on his hip, a flask of brandy on his waist, and a reverse trike on hand, the man set off. The coordinates to the nearest Irocyte deposit had been inputted, all he had to do now was follow.
There was a friend at the Fleet Academy who was fond of a specific Fioran proverb. Search long and hard for trouble, and soon enough trouble'll come and search long and hard for you.
Indeed, no sooner had he arrived at the mining hamlet had the lieutenant noticed something amiss. Patrols of guards manned the perimeter, searched throughout the town, armed with enough kinetic and energy weapons to make even the most hardened of Dandelion street gangs turn tail and run. Why was the town abuzz in such a manner? Or as he put it more succinctly...
Time passes slowly. Even slower when you have no company. Slowest, when you are waiting for it to pass. And so, each second was spent with bated breath, Aedris having only his own waning nerves and the scratching hum of fluorescents above to count the minutes.
His hideaway between a few stacked crates offered him safety from the regular patrols who cycled the mines. But did not give any comfort, warmth, or confidence. His current situation was dire, cracking blood still covering his face. And whilst the wound on his neck had stopped bleeding, his legs had long past numbed. Too long had they held him stationary in this precarious spot. He yearned to run, yearned to flee from the compound. Even the seizing pain of pins and needles that he would experience once he finally moved were to be looked forward to. For now, he waited. Still, silent and steady. He waited.
“The east mine is clear, only two hours until shift change.” A voice crackled from a box on the wall. In these mines, they appeared to reply on the oldest of technologies, the sort that the Irocyte dust would only mildly affect.
“Rodger that. Currently scouting the west mine.” Another, more timbre voice called out from the same spot. Aedris had been able to hear the odd conversation from the communications device as he had hidden. Gathering a basic understanding of the mines, but little about the purpose for the patrols. They couldn’t have believed he had run into where the largest hive of work was going on, not if his aim was to stay hidden. So why were they still down there? The lack of an off and on button, or volume control had been a blessing to him, as he remained updated on the movements of the guards. Waiting until he felt the ebb and flow pattern of their movements to gauge when he could exit his hiding place.
As another group crossed behind unseen. Their guns clacking against plastic like body armour. It leaned forward, he needed to make his move. Now. With at least fifty hums of the lights above before anyone else would appear. The aim was to look around and be out in less than five if things were ideal. Shuffling forward from the shadows, just enough to stand normally once more. The mage waiting a few moments after the sounds had grown distant then silent exit. A little unsteady, his legs were numbly pulled up, and out of his bolt hole. returning Aedris to the antechamber of the mines. Forty-Seven hums left, to be hidden or to be gone.
Darting as fast as he could to the entrance in his current state, he peaked out from behind the earthen wall to the craggy descent that marked the exit back to town. There were no guards unlike his previous foray, however in the distance, there did seem to be a ship landed and a massing of people. Making it out of the mines was no issue, but he wouldn’t have too much luck getting any distance out of the compound after that. A quick bout of swearing summed up the situation well.
The Antechamber was no different than earlier. Numerous tunnels meandering into the rocky surface of the moon. All were marked with a different colour, further down they branched out into the cardinal directions at different depths, if the voices on the intercom were to be believed. Smaller crates, lockers and medical kits were positions in room like inlets next to each tunnel. The lockers were easy enough to break into; quickly they were ransacked by a desperate Aedris. “Clothes, rope, bandages, boots, deodorant?” Listing quietly to himself what he managed to gather in his haul. There had to be some use for these things. Some genius idea that could let him get away. Clawing at even the most desperate thoughts gave him little more than a headache.
He could abduct a guard and dress as them! But, they travelled in tight packs. Six. Maybe seven men in each. With his martial prowess, Aedris still couldn’t take them all. Even if by chance he was able to, an alarm would soon be raised given how often they checked in.
There was always dressing as a miner! However, it wouldn’t give him much room to get around either. The way his now deceased employer put it, the men of the town were little more than working animals. He would fare better being shot at than mining himself to death. Still, it would give him time. Time to plan, time to scout, and most importantly, time where he wasn’t pieced through the chest with an energy round.
With gritted teeth, the mage took the only course he could see working. Returning to his cubby hole, he donned the clothing scraps he had managed to gather. Workers overalls. A too small pair of mended boots. A blue plaid shirt with a few stains. Ones he hoped were mining back wash or beer. And most importantly, dirt. Enough grease and Irocyte dust from the crates to make it seem like he had been working hard for the full day. With the mustiness of the clothes and then worn out look of his boots, it would easily be believed. Another handful for his hair and face, the now ashen man looked the part, the dried blood seemed to vanish under the layer of grit now covering Aedris’ body.
He had been lucky that his armour was form fitting enough and made in such a way to be hidden under clothing, but his axe, that would have to go for now. Shoving the weapon into the shadiest part of the recess where he had been hiding, Aedris was ready to move. He needed to gather more supplies and find a way out. Once he did, he would return for his weapon. Appearing back in the Antechamber, he found himself face to face with a patrol. One who was looking directly at him. One who seemed to be a good ten Fluorescent light hums early, given his calculations. One that contained a few too many armed men for Aedris to feel comfortable in front of.