Welcome to Gaia! ::

Basically the stuff that will be involved in the upcoming guild. If you have questions...ask them. I promise I won't snap this time >.>'

The Eye of Hamied

(aka The Stone of Miracles....>.<)

In the stories they say it looks like a common white river stone, small enough to rest in the palm of a child's hand, except it always takes a new form when a wish has been granted and the host chosen. The stone gives one wish, one miracle, and stays with the wisher until he or she dies. There is little magic involved, being the stone does not make things appear, but can tell a person where to find them, how to achieve impossible goals, or simply whisper the secrets of death, illness, or even immortality.

The stone itself is a bloody item, as countless people have been murdered to free it from previous masters, and enable the wish again. Some view it as heaven sent, others view it as a tool of darker means.

The eye is considered by most to be an old legend, until recently. Rumors have spread involving a massacre, the kore, and a darker society. All point to the existence of the eye, and not just an existence, but the location as well.

Somewhere hidden on the Gilgamesh, in the hands of a prisoner or a civilian, or even a crew member, rests a pale river rock.

The Kore

An organization of special indviduals, the Kore is a very exclusive group. They select people when young, and train them in their ranks. It's not uncommon for those who speak against them to mysteriously disappear. They have their hands in many different financial organizations, particularly those out in the colonies. They are some of the chief opponents against the Triadic Code.

Their strongest company within their grasp is Medikor, the leading health organization in the galaxy.

Recently the head of the Kore was killed, little detail was given as to how, but some speculate it had connection with the recent massacre, but foul play is most definitley assumed. His apprentice took his place as the lead of the organization, which has never been stronger.

The A.C. Organization

Shrouded in mystery and rumor, the A.C. Organization is a half-mythical group pulling strings across the galaxy like some shadowy puppet master. Conspiracy theorists claim the ACO to be behind the rise and fall on governments and revolutions, and whenever a prominant scientist or nosy politician goes missing there are whispers. It has been compared to the Illuminati, the Freemasons, the Knights Templar, and the Yakuza--except almost everyone agrees that those groups were swallowed by the ACO long ago. Some say the ACO was once a corporation that rose after the Mimic Wars, some that it was a group of assassins who decided to take things into their own hands, and some say it was a group of high-rollers from the legendary Vegas. No one knows for sure, and claiming to have encountered the ACO personally is like an ancient farmer claiming to be abducted by aliens; maybe you were, maybe you weren't, but few admit publicly to believe in the ACO.

Those who actually have encountered it know to keep their mouths shut. Anything less is both suicide and a death sentence to anyone who overheard.

Story note: The ACO can be used for random plot twists like bombs in the engine room, hacked computers, etc. Even if not responsible, they can be blamed.

Implants/Augmentations/Natural gifts

Powers are not so uncommon these days. In fact, in certain work people are given implants or augmentations that assist them in their daily tasks, such as increased strength for construction workers, and the ability to withstand fire for firemen. However, these augmentations and implants are licensed, and highly monitored. They are not designed for use as weapons.

Natural powers are also not uncommon, but they are usually given dampener implants to keep the power in manageable control. All powers that could be used as dangerous weapons are dampened unless licensed.

Illegal implants are a possibility, but those are very dangerous, are less likely to work than normal implants, and may have many side effects. The only way for a prisoner to have a working implant/augmentation is if it were an illegal one not caught by the inspectors.

(Also reserved)

Kind of an Intro that I wrote way back when. It's not really that important, but it might help people focus in on stuff a bit.

"Relax kid, relax." She muttered to herself, under her breath, as she leaned against the wall of the cockpit. She watched the entry door and waited for one more guard to come through. Syx breathed in the air, trying to calm her nerves. The scent of singed hair, and burning flesh filled her lungs. She nearly gagged, and started breathing out of her mouth, trying to ignore the acrid taste of blaster smoke that roled over her tongue.

Glancing down from the door, Syx noticed the night captain's entrails rested against her boot. She regretted the action immediatley and pulled her eyes away from the body. The rest of the night crew was dead too, and torn to pieces like they were attacked by some kind of monster. She'd heard the sounds of the fight down the hall, but got there too late. She found the bodies, and the last few prison guards left in the room. As the prison guards started shooting at her, she knew well enough who was responsible. She never liked prison guards, and now she figured she never would.

Syx held her gun lose, With both hands made slick by blood and sweat, the gun threatened to slide out of her grip like a bar of soap. If she gripped to tight she might as well toss her gun to the other side of the room. She started moving towards the door. If they weren't coming back to the bridge to take control of the ship, they had to be doing something else. Either they were finishing off the rest of the crew, or moving to the prisoners. The civilian section of the ship should be safe enough. They were separated from the prison, and in all honesty only the poorest chose to purchase passage on a prison-carrier, rather than a standard commercial ship. Even in their luggage, they shouldn't have anything valuable enough to encourage a raid like this. The prisoners however, well there were always criminals someone powerful would like to see freed.....or dead for that matter. Taking a deep breath, Syx decided to move towards the prison. She wasn't stupid enough to think she could take these people on by herself, but as a Space Marshal, it was her job to try. She checked her com-pad a few more times, she had sent several messages to Sam, but none of them had come back. She assumed he was dead like the others.

The hallway to the prison was littered with bodies. A few of them prison guards, and another group of them wearing the tagged bracelets identifying them as prisoners. Someone must have let the prisoners loose, either one of the guards or a crew member. She made a quick note that their might be some uncomprimised guards after all.

The doors to the prison were wide open. As Syx stepped in she was not surprised to see the cells were all empty, besides a small piling of bodies. She stifled a small groan. If she lived through this, she'd have to clean the mess up afterwards, and if she wasn't mistaken the prisoners had probably already escaped to the civilian section by now. They would mix among the rest to get lost in the crowd, or they could take hostages....either situation was bad.

The silence of the prison was unnerving. She moved down the long hallway, intent on one cell in particular. It was designed for solitary, separated from the other prisoners, practically a black box with one small door. If anyone on the ship was the problem, it was the prisoner in that cell. No one responsible for a pety crim was ever put into a personalized containment suit.

As she got closer Syx noticed a thin line of blaster smoke moving from the door. She held her gun steady, ready to shoot. She slid against the wall, and with a quick turn put herself into view of the doorway. She paused, and stared.

The prisoner was a tall woman, standing as relaxed as a large cat in the corner. She wore nothing but the containment suit, a series of machinery that covered only what was necessary, leaving white skin framed by wires, tubes, and metal. Thick chains and manacles locked around her hands and feet, while her head was completely masked by a machine-like helmet, with smooth features, but for a red-glass line that allowed the prisoner to see. And at the woman's feet were the bodies of eight guards, presumabley the ones who had attacked the bridge. The first few had definite chain marks around their necks, their heads slightly askew.

Syx kept her gun trained on the prisoner. She knew how a containment suit functioned, and no one could do that in a containment suit. The suit was designed to monitor the breathing, and the heart rate of the prisoner, if it ever went beyond a relaxed state the suit considered it an attempted escape, and reacted by locking down, cutting off prisoner air supply, or transferring severe pain into the nerve system of the prisoner. Most people considered it rather inhumane, which was why they were used so rarely these days, only for special cases. She'd heard prisoners weren't even allowed to get angry or upset while wearing the suit. If that was truly the case, the woman had killed the guards without raising her heart rate, without increasing her breath, and with extreme emotional calm.

The metal hood gave a slight tilt in Syx's direction. "You may put down the gun, Marshal" The prisoner's voice was soft, with a slight hiss, and artificial undertone, as it was processed through the mask.

"So they were after you? That's what this raid is all about?" Syx asked. She didn't lower her gun.

"No. They weren't after me. They were after what I had. But that's gone now." The prisoner moved her head to the side in a slow smooth motion. It reminded Syx of a snake, as it debated whether to strike.

"What is it? Where is it? and what the hell are you?" Syx demanded in a brisk tone. Her back teeth were grinding, she always ground her teeth when she was tense.

"It left, walked away, they didn't believe me." There was a hint of amusement in the mechanical voice. "I am Lia."

Syx was about to say something when she felt a buz against her hip. She picked up her com-pad, and sighed in relief as she saw Sam's face appear on the front. "You're alive. Good to see. Where are you? what's the status?" She smiled at her fellow marshal, but kept her gaze evenly split between him and the prisoner.

"I could say the same, McCaine." Sam's voice was clipped with stress. "Not good. I'm on the bridge. The night crew is dead, as you know, but the guards hit the main crew quarters first. Most of them are gone, all the pilots, and the captain. A few made it out alive but, were in a bad mess. The night crew managed to put the ship into lockdown, to prevent the guards from gaining control, but the keycards to unlock the system seem to have been hidden."

"Then we'll call up the destination and ask for a support team to hea--"

"No good, the communication system is completley fried, inner-ship coms are the only ones active."

So they were sitting around in a metal coffin, hoping someone would be good enough to pick up their distress signal. "Well the guards seem to be mostly taken care of." Syx said, after giving Lia another tentative look.

Sam looked surprised for a moment. "Then it's just a matter of cleaning this up. You did good, kid, you did really good." Sam closed off his end of the com-pad.

"More will come." Lia said in her soft voice. "They're coming now, I'm sure. They want the eye, they want it very very badly." She was quiet for a moment. "Your friend is one of them, so you know. You can here it in his voice, sitting there like a worm in an apple. He took out the communication, and I'm sure there will be no distress signal."

Syx stared at her, she was sure the prisoner was lying. "I'm locking you in your cell, we'll deal with this later."

Lia gave a small shrug. "I have no where to go. The eye will come back to me eventually, one way or another."