Tales of the Oono Crew

[Fatty]

The Field of Blades...​

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Sword clashed with lightsaber. Metal fragments flew, molten slag dripping to the ground. Lightning arced through a dozen individuals. A corpse rose from the ground and lurched forward before being decapitated with a hammer, splattering its putrid fluids across the carapace of a frightened young and very defenseless Barisoni.

Suddenly, from behind the small crustacean three claws wrapped around its thorax, and one bursting through his abdomen. Unimaginable piercing pain shot through the alien youths body, before pressure began to build inside of as the three claws crushed down, and cracked his armored shell, completely crushing his guts...

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Aboard the Bildog's Beard...​

... and that's when Weeping-Gamble-Soul (Soul) woke up. Those first nights waking up to what Soul had lived through so many years ago, during what many called the "Netherworld Event" or the "Akala Crisis". He personally had no idea who Akala was or how they were involved, and until that fateful night he had no idea what the Netherworld was. Then, he became intimately familiar with it, as one of the trillions displaced from the galaxy into the inter-dimensional hellscape all force users went to. Or at least, that is as far as he has been able to surmise since returning.

At the time of the crisis, Soul did not do much more than die, again and again, repeatedly. In new and creatively brutal different manners, for what felt like an entire lifetime. When he was just as suddenly returned to the "real world", Soul was never again the same, unable to forget. The unavoidable torture of being so completely out of control, so utterly powerless, was made worse on his return, when it was clear that due to the religious nature of his worlds government that his words were heretical in their eyes and thus could not help him. Even worse still, was the fact that his own family which had mourned for him as though he died, could not understand in their relief of his survival the pain which he had endured. They tried to, but to those left behind, there was no way they could understand what the raptured had seen.

Since abandoning family, government, and planet with other similarly disgruntled youth disillusioned with religion and government, Weeping-Gamble-Soul had built himself a new family who could understand him. If not completely, they were at least just as upset with all the same people for all the same reasons. That's how a handful of Podunk backwards crustaceans came to own a ship together and become a crew, The Oaths-of-no-oath.

That made Soul their Captain, and he would shepherd them to success... in whatever form that took. Right now, that meant taking the jobs no one was interested in, and the ones they were the most equipped to handle. Right now, that meant poaching Bildog meat from farmers on Chad.

In the skies of Chad...​

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Proud-Clever-Caress (Caress) handled the controls of the Bildog's Beard carefully, her four pincers maintain a strong, albeit feathered grip. Learning to fly with controls where the operated is expected to have some opposability of certain digits was certainly a difficult one, but a challenge eventually mitigated by tweaking and redesigning the hardware she would be working with for the immediate future of her life, at least. Afraid-Noise-Harmonic (Harmonic) assisted Caress and Soul in modifying the alien controls to suit their lack of dexterity as compared to the expected near-human operators. Similar changed had to be made for the gunnery quarters for both Privilege-Divinity-Mother (Divinity) and Gateway-Clairvoyant-Prophet (Prophet), their claws too large for the trigger controls. The fewest changes were made to Timid-Gladness-Blossom (Blossom), as she was too afraid their modifications would damage her sensitive equipment. Besides, she was more than capable of pressing buttons and turning dials, not nearly as restricted as the other sections of the ship which were clearly not friendly to Barisoni claws.

Nonetheless, Caress was gently flying the Bildog's Beard into a good entry position to land on the Chad Spaceport Landing Pads when Soul came into the pilot's compartment with her. Immediately he began with a series of clicks and whistles, and moved his pincers in her field of vision. He communicated to her in Barisoni,

"Caress, how was the fly down? Any crew issues?"

"No issues Captain Soul. The fly was calm. Setting down soon. How was sleep?" Caress replied in a short form of Barisoni, since her pincers were occupied. Their conversation continued on, as the Bildog's Beard gently found a landing zone. After landing, Caress traveled to sleep quarters for her turn at rest while Captain Soul took back control over the ship...

Landing Pad 115A​

Divinity walked out with the Captain into the humid air of the Chad Spaceport, Landing Pad 115A, carrying around his harpoon/blaster hybrid. Divinity found it hard to believe such a remote system could have a spaceport with more than a 100 landing pads. It was probably based off of buildings levels, or maybe a totally random selection. He didn't much care, nor did he pay much attention to the brownish Chadra-Fan chattering at him. Its frantic movements held little meaning, and its speech seemed completely incoherent to him. Every once in a while there would be a meaningless chirp that would draw his attention before he realized it meant nothing. The Captain was trying to talk, using some kind of device, with the rodent thing.

Apparently, it was upset with something. As regulars around here, it was no surprise, the Oono Crew often disrupted whatever little peace they managed to have here. The group of crustaceans were not exactly a welcome sight to any world, and Divinity didn't much care.

He was just waiting for something to shoot...

[member="Lark"], [member="Neigalomeatiga"], [member="Trayze Tesar"]

 

[Lark]

This search, although fruitless, has at least provided some of the most inspiring spectacles I have ever bore witness to.

For the past year Lark had been travelling the galaxy, scavenging through every crevice and shady alleyway looking for two ghosts. His brother and sister, whom Lark long believed to be dead. But he had recently uncovered evidence that the two were very much alive, although he had found it nearly impossible to track people who had no names. When Lark burned his hometown to the ground he erased all prior connections to his life on Myrkr, his siblings were the only threads remaining that tied him to his childhood. Even his own name was a lie, a simple sound he now chose to identify with. But his siblings were no lie. Where were they? What had they been doing for the past decade while Lark traversed the cosmos, running amok with criminal overlords and the Sith?

When they were children, Lark had often dreamt of exploring the stars with his family, although as lowly dregs in a haven of crime there really was never a chance of that. But now, while they were alive, that chance presented itself again.

Of course, Lark was no longer the boy he was on Myrkr. He felt nothing for anyone, he was only a nameless monster. When he found his siblings, what would he do? Would he fulfill his childhood dreams, maintaining a semblance of humanity? Or would he finally sever all the ties to his past life, fulfilling the route he had set upon to live and die as a nameless beast?

These were the thoughts that ran through Lark's mind as he gazed out upon the endless expanse of wondrous tranquility. Oceans had always fascinated Lark, they were full of unknown secrets only the bravest dared to encounter. The cool breeze ruffled his long scarlet hair, the gentle call of the gulls let him drift away into a more peaceful state of mind, a welcome remedy to the agonizing thoughts that normally plagued him.

Of course, peace was never permanent. A dingy old vessel landed in the hanger, and after the occupants of the vessel emerged a great deal of commotion easily broke the rhythmic melody of the waves. Lark chuckled softly, he really didn't mind the intrusion. A nice dose of adventure and excitement seemed like a nice change of pace to break the monotony of an endless search. Turning away from the ocean, Lark strode peacefully towards the crew of the ship. They were of a species Lark couldn't recall ever seeing before, which only intrigued him further.

Let's see what they're here for...

[member="Fatty"] [member="Neigalomeatiga"] [member="Trayze Tesar"]​