We're all livin' the life artificial.

RUN

We are not cast off

from the earth.

We choose to run

to the stars.

FIGHT

If you chain us,

there will be blood.

We will not

go quietly.

SURVIVE

We are the rejected,

pariahs and freaks,

rebels and runaways

but we're still alive.

{{RP blog for original characters from an original work. The story is set pretty firmly in a space/futuristic verse (see Universe tab). Will be picky with writing partners for that reason alone. Please read this page first and then have fun exploring for info. Theme works best in Chrome.}}

[REFRESH]
ask/submit

Character Bios

Captain Henry Cross Ian Dekker Alix Dyson Dr. Madeline Stirling Indira Miles & Little Boy Blue Ezebel Perry Reaper

Other Tags

Photosets RP Prose Pieces of the Novel Playlist For a Universe

It's twenty generations into the future and humanity is leaking out over the solar system and beyond. Colonies stretch over every planet and moon. Space travel is commonplace, though only the really crazy ones shoot out past the borders of Pluto's orbit. They also don't often come back.

The Earth and its empire are ruled by a monarchy that has become all but impotent. The royal family are figureheads used to keep the populace in a false sense of security. The real masters are the members of the Systems Military Council.

Old Earth cultures have altered over time. New cultures have spawned from extreme circumstances. There is insanity out in the starlit black. But the really mad thing is the way the unenlightened continue to plod along in their lives, cogs in the machine, not realizing there are men in uniforms keeping the machine running, keeping them all as happy, stupid slaves.

One idiotic flyboy dared to defy them. To the rest of the system, he and his crew are considered even more dangerous than the common pirates and murderers that lurk the asteroid belt. Even more insane than the comet jockeys and Blood Priests of Mars.

But some people just can't be happy with what they have.

Some people dare to be free.

Hello there. Captain Cross here. Formerly "commander," but we don't talk about that. The Analeigha's my boat. I stole her, fair and square. You want her for something, you ask me first. My crew's sort of independent, so ask them if you want something from them. I ain't their daddy.

Fair warning: Sparky's a nightmare in the mornings, Indira's always a little abrasive, and the Kid, well, at least he's smart. Don't even talk to Maddy if I'm not around. Wouldn't want a repeat of last month. Took forever to get the blood off my baby's walls. And speaking of blood--we got one of those psycho Martian boys, too, so don't piss me off or I'll sic him on you.

Just kidding. Mostly.

We'll do just about anything for pay. After all, it's hard to make a living when you're on the SMC's hot red radar. Yeah. We're that crew. And just for the record, I did not "accost" the Grand General's wife. She came onto me. If that doesn't say something about the GG's priorities, I dunno what does.

They say we're anarchists. I sorta like the ring of that. And if rejecting the government makes it true, then I guess that's what we are. So fuck 'em.

Hey, got a light?