driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Tyrion Lannister
Broadcast: Everyone
Action: In the Engineering Room of First Breath, building Stuff.
When: Today!

[There is music blaring in the background - yes, Tyrion has learned how to turn on the music and he is currently listening to modern 'pop'. It is clear he enjoys it as well - he is singing along to Stitches. He is also building a - a - well it is a sword. But when he lifts it up and toggles something on the hilt, it suddenly sparks to life, electricity running up and down the blade.

He eyes it with satisfaction, giving it a practice swing, before he realizes the device is turned on. He smirks, stretching the scar on his face.] This is the twelfth time I have rebuilt this particular device, and I believe this may be my best effort yet.

[Another swing, before he powers it off.] Every day, I rebuild tools to help me survive in case of an attack - swords and the like. And every night, they are dismantled and all the parts are put back where they were originally found. I would be more annoyed ... but it is helping me quickly gather a grasp on how things work. At this rate, I shall be able to put together a weapon in moments if we come under attack, again.

[And here, his face takes on a slight calculating tilt.] ... and how was that last attack? I have heard rumors, but no ... hard facts.

[He smiles.] Your prize for sharing what information you have is a weapon that shall last you from the moment you wake until you close your eyes at night.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... Entire planets that forge weapons. Fascinating.

How delightful, that they find our suffering so very entertaining.

[Oh delightful, someone who was actually willing to answer his question.] Why did they occur? Who did they attack?

Hm. They are useful, at least.

Of course they do, they are profiting from us being here, never forget that.

They attacked us all, and as far as we are aware, there is no reason. They've never struck to kill, however. The last time they did it, they put us into a cloud which took away power to our ships, made the Marsvia unable to reach us.

Useful, oh yes, but I do not know of a single city that puts all it's efforts into building weapons. An entire planet? By the Seven, that is a lot of bloodshed waiting to happen.

Hmmm - I do not think I could. Let us just say ... I am running them a tab. One day, they shall pay me back in full.

[Stubby fingers fold together.] So ... is it possible they are simply here to create more drama for us to survive?

There was a planet where I got mine from, Mor. There were other things, too, it did not rely solely on weapons, but it still mattered a great deal to them.

That is somewhat overly hopeful. [Fenris, stop being so brutally honest all the damn time. ]

Perhaps. Or perhaps they are another group, someone battling against Atroma.

We are coming to some of those planets soon, yes? Way-stations. Do these typically carry weapons and other supplies to say, make weapons?

[Give a man a shovel, all that.]

Hopeful? Oh no. In my family, when we promise bloody revenge -- we always come through. A Lannister always pays his debts. Mine shall be delivered at the end of something very sharp and nasty.

[And there is that note, that no matter has them here ... one day, one day, they would.]

For better ratings? For money, for power?

The way stations tend to only offer simple supplies, you are unlikely to find much of use there. As for a planet...it has been months since we have been to one. I can't imagine it will be much longer.

...Then I wish you luck.

[His tone doesn't hold out much hope on that. He's been in these places too long, it's made him jaded for any chance of revenge. ]

Perhaps? Or perhaps they simply want our freedom.

Hm. I should consider blowing something up then. [He looked around thoughtfully.] I will need the credits to buy the proper materials.

[He tips his head, quiet and yes, intrusive. Yet he cannot ask the question.] I take it that you have found it to be a dry well, revenge?

...well if that is the case we should assist them.

Then you had best work on being entertaining, or hope that you can get a job on the next planet.

[He gives a soft, annoyed scoff. ] Yes, but one a man dying of thirst will continue to drink from regardless, even if he knows it will only lead to his demise.

We should, if only they would reply to our hails.

Oh, I have always been entertaining. [He pauses, amused.] What sort of work could I offer? Clearly not physical labor.

Hmmm. Is it better to die going after what one desires, or by simply choosing another path? I have never decided.

Why would they not reply?

It differs on the planets. I find bounty hunting is the more regular work available.

I wish I could tell you, I have not figured this out myself.

I do not know, they must have their reasons.

[A sigh.] Do you find it as frustrating as I do, that every time a question is answered, there are twenty more that pop up after it? This place is like a mess of weeds, and I need a better pruning knife.

It is frustrating, but you will find great difficulty in getting any answers you require. Such is the nature of places like this.

You have survived much, my friend. What advice would you give, to make this ... tolerable?

Take what peace you can from it. Find solace in friends and the quiet moments. If you do not, you are likely to go mad.

... well that might be a too little too late, but that is no fault of this place. [He dipped his head.] I owe you a glass of wine - my ... rather stern acquaintance.

[He gives a small grunt at the description, it's an accurate one after all. ]

I would not turn you down.

Give me a time and a place, and I shall bring the bottle.

I am free any time, you can find me aboard the Tourist.

Then I shall see you in the next few weeks.

I will look forward to it.

[And he actually will, so bonus! ]

[Tyrion bows once, before turning off the feed.

And surprise of surprises, so shall he.]

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