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Mersopolis

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Posts posted by Mersopolis

  3. Posted

    Spoiler
    EXPLOSION AT ARATZUA RESOURCE CONFERENCE

    In a tragic event yesterday, the primary podium for the Official Aratzua Senate Building exploded after being kicked by surly senator Madent Canden of the Federation of Sovereign Spacefarers, killing Canden, but no one else, thankfully. It is believed to have been set up by the Galactic Insurgency.

    "It's a real shame... about the building," said one of his fellow FSS senators, wishing to remain anonymous.

    Poor Senator Canden managed to arrive only after the conference was over. He was met by the other FSS senators, who stayed behind in case he came, and was informed of his release as a Senator. While exiting through the door with the other senators, one looked back in response to a yell, and saw Canden, in his displeasure, angrily kick the primary podium. It resulted in an explosion that destroyed the room, but didn't quite reach the exit door.

    It is believed that the explosive in the podium was impact-sensitive, and meant to detonate when a senator would angrily smite the podium with their fist. Luckily, the conference was very calm, and ended very quickly with unanimous votes all throughout, so no one had reason to strike the podium.

    "I'd bet that Canden's absence was the reason for [that]. Normally, things are quite heated," said the above-quoted senator.

     

    The local police discovered a piece of the bomb's casing in the wreckage. On it was the word "EAGLE." Coincidentally, the ship Canden hired for private transportation was named "The Eon-Eagle," captained by Jack Vessial. "Eagle," being a word with an unknown meaning, and little to no recognition anywhere in the galaxy, yielded very few results in the galactic database. Among them, of course, was The Eon-Eagle. The crew is now wanted under suspicion of involvement.

     

    tl;dr - Explosion. My character dies. WANTED: Eon-Eagle crew.

  11. Posted

    Alas, poor XY! I knew him, SPUF Powered; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?

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