Milo Tyranne
Character
[ Syvris shadowport, Syvris, near the edge of Wild Space. ]
[ OOC thread here. ]
It had been an interesting day for Milo Tyranne.
Over the course of the past few months, the young Miln explorer had been following a track of stable hyperspace jumps he had picked up from a merchant on one of the Miln frontier worlds. Most of the route had been empty space, according to his ship at least; the automated systems had never even bothered to bring him out of stasis at each of the stops, and nothing truly interesting had showed up in the sensor logs.
But the end of the route promised to be something interesting, and it had not disappointed.
Milo's ship had come out of hyperspace above Syvris, an oblong moon with signs of habitation below. The information Milo had received had indicated it was a shadowport; a center for illicit trade, once destroyed by the old Galactic Empire centuries before, but since rebuilt into a thriving center of the spice trade.
To Milo, the type of commerce undertaken at the base didn't much matter; what did was that it was an alien port, as far from the Miln home-world as he had ever been. Whatever he found, it could only lead to further adventure.
And adventure was essentially what he was paid to have.
As a Miln, Milo's sense of danger was finely tuned, and as he walked the main concourse of Syvris' entertainment district, the insistent tug of barely contained fear was a constant in the back of his mind. He walked among throngs of aliens, the majority of them nearly twice his own size, and it needled at his instincts; he was surrounded by potential predators, they told him, and Milo knew that they probably weren't half wrong.
But Milo was not the same as other Miln.
As did all aspects of exploration, the danger excited him more than it scared the young rodentoid. This was at least partially the result of careful psychological conditioning performed as part of his training; members of the Miln Astrogational Corps were taught to suppress and redirect their fear. It was good to be afraid, fear kept a being on their toes, but to be overwhelmed by one's fear was to court disaster; if you were merely scared, you could survive, but if you panicked, you would almost certainly die.
And so Milo did not panic. Instead, the young adventurer sent his fear elsewhere; it sharpened him, enhanced his reactions and honed his curiosity. It was strange, he thought; he had always been better at this kind of thing than any of his classmates. He had always found the strength of keep himself calm, as if he were able to draw on some kind of external power to fortify his nerves.
That's nonsense, though. He thought dismissively. I just got good training.
As Milo thought this, one of his cup-shaped ears twitched, and he turned, looking toward a smokey doorway along the concourse wall. Inside, lights pulsed, and music drifted out. The sign above the door read Terminal Step; an enormous bouncer droid stood next to the door, and Milo recognized the earmarks of a dance club.
The sound which had attracted his attention was one that he recognized. To his surprise, it was a tune which had been popular in the orbital habitats a few years before; Milo couldn't remember if it was from a local band, or a pop song which had drifted in from somewhere outside Miln space, but he did know that he liked it.
Having no better plan, he decided to check out the source.
Giving a nod to the bouncer, who ignored him with a completeness only droids seemed to manage, the young explorer made his way into the club. It was as he had expected; dim, crowded and loud, laser displays and holograms swirled over the throngs of dancers. To one side was a small seating area, with couches, caf tables and a bar up against the wall, staffed by a battered-looking mixocology droid.
Skirting the dance-floor, Milo made his way to the bar, lifting himself up onto one of the tall stools. Automatically, a holographic drinks menu popped up in front of him, which Milo studied briefly before picking something that purported to be stronger than average.
As he waited for the robo-bartender to deliver his concoction, the young Miln looked around, wondering who he might encounter in a place such as this...
[ OOC thread here. ]
It had been an interesting day for Milo Tyranne.
Over the course of the past few months, the young Miln explorer had been following a track of stable hyperspace jumps he had picked up from a merchant on one of the Miln frontier worlds. Most of the route had been empty space, according to his ship at least; the automated systems had never even bothered to bring him out of stasis at each of the stops, and nothing truly interesting had showed up in the sensor logs.
But the end of the route promised to be something interesting, and it had not disappointed.
Milo's ship had come out of hyperspace above Syvris, an oblong moon with signs of habitation below. The information Milo had received had indicated it was a shadowport; a center for illicit trade, once destroyed by the old Galactic Empire centuries before, but since rebuilt into a thriving center of the spice trade.
To Milo, the type of commerce undertaken at the base didn't much matter; what did was that it was an alien port, as far from the Miln home-world as he had ever been. Whatever he found, it could only lead to further adventure.
And adventure was essentially what he was paid to have.
As a Miln, Milo's sense of danger was finely tuned, and as he walked the main concourse of Syvris' entertainment district, the insistent tug of barely contained fear was a constant in the back of his mind. He walked among throngs of aliens, the majority of them nearly twice his own size, and it needled at his instincts; he was surrounded by potential predators, they told him, and Milo knew that they probably weren't half wrong.
But Milo was not the same as other Miln.
As did all aspects of exploration, the danger excited him more than it scared the young rodentoid. This was at least partially the result of careful psychological conditioning performed as part of his training; members of the Miln Astrogational Corps were taught to suppress and redirect their fear. It was good to be afraid, fear kept a being on their toes, but to be overwhelmed by one's fear was to court disaster; if you were merely scared, you could survive, but if you panicked, you would almost certainly die.
And so Milo did not panic. Instead, the young adventurer sent his fear elsewhere; it sharpened him, enhanced his reactions and honed his curiosity. It was strange, he thought; he had always been better at this kind of thing than any of his classmates. He had always found the strength of keep himself calm, as if he were able to draw on some kind of external power to fortify his nerves.
That's nonsense, though. He thought dismissively. I just got good training.
[youtube=eB3RJ1U_MJA]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB3RJ1U_MJA[/youtube]
As Milo thought this, one of his cup-shaped ears twitched, and he turned, looking toward a smokey doorway along the concourse wall. Inside, lights pulsed, and music drifted out. The sign above the door read Terminal Step; an enormous bouncer droid stood next to the door, and Milo recognized the earmarks of a dance club.
The sound which had attracted his attention was one that he recognized. To his surprise, it was a tune which had been popular in the orbital habitats a few years before; Milo couldn't remember if it was from a local band, or a pop song which had drifted in from somewhere outside Miln space, but he did know that he liked it.
Having no better plan, he decided to check out the source.
Giving a nod to the bouncer, who ignored him with a completeness only droids seemed to manage, the young explorer made his way into the club. It was as he had expected; dim, crowded and loud, laser displays and holograms swirled over the throngs of dancers. To one side was a small seating area, with couches, caf tables and a bar up against the wall, staffed by a battered-looking mixocology droid.
Skirting the dance-floor, Milo made his way to the bar, lifting himself up onto one of the tall stools. Automatically, a holographic drinks menu popped up in front of him, which Milo studied briefly before picking something that purported to be stronger than average.
As he waited for the robo-bartender to deliver his concoction, the young Miln looked around, wondering who he might encounter in a place such as this...
