Avalon®
2017-01-09, 11:26 AM
Issue 1: "Whatever Happened to Howard Hughes?"
https://i.imgur.com/XiDD9.jpg
Mars. The planet of hope, new beginnings and a better life. The grudges of the past century brought to this new planet a bounty of fresh crimson blood. But today is part of a new century. The grudges and rivalries of the past have mostly been swept away as new ones came in their wake. Settlers of all nations and creeds, be they former allies or sworn enemies, have found their way onto the red planet to escape. Escape the troubles and politics of Earth, a messy divorce, old enemies, or just to get away from it all. It is a rough life. Deadly especially for the unprepared or for those who set out on their own without the proper powers or equipment. Due to the harsh environment, it is either very expensive or very foolish to set out on ones own especially with the threat of raiders, rogue military elements and the ever present random threat of random attacks by Martians and thus people band together in order to have safety in numbers and have some of the Changed with them as well to have a better chance at survival. Still... it is worth it. The promise of untold fortunes from mining the mountains of that most important and necessary of metals: Cavorite. In this grand "Cavorite Boom", miners carve out that grey gold, while the shopkeeps, homsteaders and bankers support them and the artists, musicians and painted gals provide the "entertainment".
Truly, Mars is a dangerous place but what treasures are not without their risks?
~~O~~
JANUARY 9, 2017
New Olympus, the shining jewel of the Mars colonies. The Red War, thankfully, sparing most of the city unlike its sisters Bianjing and Hope. Due to being situated on the primary crater atop Olympus Mons, it is the primary spaceport, politcal and commercial center on the planet with the spaceport itself occupying a full third of the city itself. The great powers of Earth, nation and corporation alike, as well as a great many of the lesser nations have embassies and satellite offices in the area near the heart of the city. Foundries labor in the vast caverns within Olympus Mons, tended by normals and Changed alike while powered by endlessly spinning Cavorite dynamos in order to refine, process and ship the vast amounts of that precious metal to feed the ever growing needs of Earth. Up on the surface, it is a riot of colors with neon advertisements extolling the wares of the Federation of Allied Merchants - Iordanos, Lebedev and Ybarra and other corporations in a hundred languages and sitting atop dazzling skyscrapers (in the art nouveau style) home to ambassadors, executives, politicians and their entourages and hangers-on.
http://www.house-design-coffee.com/images/Stanislaw-Brzozowski-vitebsk-railway-station-st-petersburg.jpg
Soon after receiving the box and phone containing the invitation to the Global Frequency, you received message to come to a certain bar in the docks section of the city at a certain date and a certain time. Today is that day. The bar's name is the Drunken Bull. A good old-fashioned saloon serving the choices of Spanish tapas, Brazilian churrasco and other more exotic fare.
Stepping inside, you are met with a cacophony sights, sounds and smells. A red-headed bartender mans the bar while various tables are occupied by a group of American Rough Riders playing poker after a long day patrolling the outskirts and surrounding homesteads and junctions, a large group of dark-skinned Berbers in deep discussion, and other assorted men and women deep in their cups. Off to the side, you see a large area surrounded by a steel cage. Inside, you see two oiled-up Turkish wrestlers trying to pin one another while a large crowd surrounds them and Filipino kristos run around taking bets. In a corner booth, you see an old man in riding leathers drinking from a German beer stein, faded posters on the wall behind him illegible from years of cigarette smoke. In the center, you see an Iordanos, Lebedev and Ybarra executive (apparently slumming it with his two-man entourage) watching a raised platform as a Chinese band plays the latest hits from Seoul, Cape Town and Berlin. The sweet and savory scent of Wagyu steaks wafts in from the kitchen along with hints of garam masala and other spices.
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/9c/fb/01/9cfb0111b92b46a706934481f1cd6fb1.jpg
As you walk in, the bartenders raises his head slightly to you and gives a curt nod before going back to cleaning glasses and serving more alchoholic inebriation to his customers. Above him are several large screens featuring a friendly match of Rugby between the Sheffield Iron Men versus the New Zealand All-Blacks, the live coverage of the Superbowl featuring the final match between the Cleveland Browns and the Seattle Seahawks, a replay of Macau Grand Prix and many more sports events.
As you step in, the old man spots you and raises his beer stein in greeting. It is quite surprising to see the Emperor's own attendant and former instructor of the Jannisaries, Gehrman Köller. Strange to see him away from his charge.
He waves at you to come closer and pats the seat right next to him in the booth.
The executive slumming it out here with the the unwashed masses is Solomon Zobel, a relatively high-up vice-president in the Hotel & Travel division of the vast corporation known as Iordanos, Lebedev and Ybarra. With him are Jackson Tanner, a young up-and-comer who looked more at home as an American Football linebacker or a damn good Viking or pro wrestler who had somehow managed to worm his way into Zobel's inner circle and the lovely Celestina Bing Bing, the genius that arranged that successful acquisition of the Hilton chain a year back.
It is no secret that Zobel has the ear of some people very high up the corporate ladder but favors do come with a price.
You see a very familiar face amongst the people near the wrestling pit. If it isn't old Zeb Crocker back from the dead, or close enough to count. Rumors had it that he was last seen about 2 weeks East of Olympus Mons, going on again about hitting the big time in another of his crazy hot tips on untapped veins of Cavorite. But that was a few months ago when he tried borrowing money from anyone within a day's ride from heree willing to lend him the necessary funds to conduct a one-man expedition to god knows where when he got caught in one of the dust storms that frequent the area. Afterwards, rumored had spread that he was taken by raiders, attacked by the Martians or killed by some of the local mob that me inadvertently pissed off. He was the kind of guy that seemed to be the embodiment of sleaze and who one was merely cordial with at best. Apparently, he must have struck it rich or absconded with the loans and hid in the Drunken Bull since he seems to have no problem betting thick wads of cash on the outcome of the wrestling match.
You see a very familiar face amongst the people near the wrestling pit. If it isn't old Zeb Crocker back from the dead, or close enough to count. Rumors had it that he was last seen about 2 weeks East of Olympus Mons, going on again about hitting the big time in another of his crazy hot tips on untapped veins of Cavorite. But that was a few months ago when he tried borrowing money from anyone within a day's ride from heree willing to lend him the necessary funds to conduct a one-man expedition to god knows where when he got caught in one of the dust storms that frequent the area. Afterwards, rumored had spread that he was taken by raiders, attacked by the Martians or killed by some of the local mob that me inadvertently pissed off. He was the kind of guy that seemed to be the embodiment of sleaze and who one was merely cordial with at best. Apparently, he must have struck it rich or absconded with the loans and hid in the Drunken Bull since he seems to have no problem betting thick wads of cash on the outcome of the wrestling match.
Also in attendance is a feller' from Second Amendment he swindled a fortune out of last year. He sits at one of the tables near the Berbers staring daggers at you from the atop the rim of his glass.
Entering the bar feels like going home. Save for the variety of morphs, it looked just like any other bar in the Inner Solar System back in your time. People are still gambling, the booze is flowing and though the bar chow smells a lot better than the usual fare.
https://i.imgur.com/XiDD9.jpg
Mars. The planet of hope, new beginnings and a better life. The grudges of the past century brought to this new planet a bounty of fresh crimson blood. But today is part of a new century. The grudges and rivalries of the past have mostly been swept away as new ones came in their wake. Settlers of all nations and creeds, be they former allies or sworn enemies, have found their way onto the red planet to escape. Escape the troubles and politics of Earth, a messy divorce, old enemies, or just to get away from it all. It is a rough life. Deadly especially for the unprepared or for those who set out on their own without the proper powers or equipment. Due to the harsh environment, it is either very expensive or very foolish to set out on ones own especially with the threat of raiders, rogue military elements and the ever present random threat of random attacks by Martians and thus people band together in order to have safety in numbers and have some of the Changed with them as well to have a better chance at survival. Still... it is worth it. The promise of untold fortunes from mining the mountains of that most important and necessary of metals: Cavorite. In this grand "Cavorite Boom", miners carve out that grey gold, while the shopkeeps, homsteaders and bankers support them and the artists, musicians and painted gals provide the "entertainment".
Truly, Mars is a dangerous place but what treasures are not without their risks?
~~O~~
JANUARY 9, 2017
New Olympus, the shining jewel of the Mars colonies. The Red War, thankfully, sparing most of the city unlike its sisters Bianjing and Hope. Due to being situated on the primary crater atop Olympus Mons, it is the primary spaceport, politcal and commercial center on the planet with the spaceport itself occupying a full third of the city itself. The great powers of Earth, nation and corporation alike, as well as a great many of the lesser nations have embassies and satellite offices in the area near the heart of the city. Foundries labor in the vast caverns within Olympus Mons, tended by normals and Changed alike while powered by endlessly spinning Cavorite dynamos in order to refine, process and ship the vast amounts of that precious metal to feed the ever growing needs of Earth. Up on the surface, it is a riot of colors with neon advertisements extolling the wares of the Federation of Allied Merchants - Iordanos, Lebedev and Ybarra and other corporations in a hundred languages and sitting atop dazzling skyscrapers (in the art nouveau style) home to ambassadors, executives, politicians and their entourages and hangers-on.
http://www.house-design-coffee.com/images/Stanislaw-Brzozowski-vitebsk-railway-station-st-petersburg.jpg
Soon after receiving the box and phone containing the invitation to the Global Frequency, you received message to come to a certain bar in the docks section of the city at a certain date and a certain time. Today is that day. The bar's name is the Drunken Bull. A good old-fashioned saloon serving the choices of Spanish tapas, Brazilian churrasco and other more exotic fare.
Stepping inside, you are met with a cacophony sights, sounds and smells. A red-headed bartender mans the bar while various tables are occupied by a group of American Rough Riders playing poker after a long day patrolling the outskirts and surrounding homesteads and junctions, a large group of dark-skinned Berbers in deep discussion, and other assorted men and women deep in their cups. Off to the side, you see a large area surrounded by a steel cage. Inside, you see two oiled-up Turkish wrestlers trying to pin one another while a large crowd surrounds them and Filipino kristos run around taking bets. In a corner booth, you see an old man in riding leathers drinking from a German beer stein, faded posters on the wall behind him illegible from years of cigarette smoke. In the center, you see an Iordanos, Lebedev and Ybarra executive (apparently slumming it with his two-man entourage) watching a raised platform as a Chinese band plays the latest hits from Seoul, Cape Town and Berlin. The sweet and savory scent of Wagyu steaks wafts in from the kitchen along with hints of garam masala and other spices.
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/9c/fb/01/9cfb0111b92b46a706934481f1cd6fb1.jpg
As you walk in, the bartenders raises his head slightly to you and gives a curt nod before going back to cleaning glasses and serving more alchoholic inebriation to his customers. Above him are several large screens featuring a friendly match of Rugby between the Sheffield Iron Men versus the New Zealand All-Blacks, the live coverage of the Superbowl featuring the final match between the Cleveland Browns and the Seattle Seahawks, a replay of Macau Grand Prix and many more sports events.
As you step in, the old man spots you and raises his beer stein in greeting. It is quite surprising to see the Emperor's own attendant and former instructor of the Jannisaries, Gehrman Köller. Strange to see him away from his charge.
He waves at you to come closer and pats the seat right next to him in the booth.
The executive slumming it out here with the the unwashed masses is Solomon Zobel, a relatively high-up vice-president in the Hotel & Travel division of the vast corporation known as Iordanos, Lebedev and Ybarra. With him are Jackson Tanner, a young up-and-comer who looked more at home as an American Football linebacker or a damn good Viking or pro wrestler who had somehow managed to worm his way into Zobel's inner circle and the lovely Celestina Bing Bing, the genius that arranged that successful acquisition of the Hilton chain a year back.
It is no secret that Zobel has the ear of some people very high up the corporate ladder but favors do come with a price.
You see a very familiar face amongst the people near the wrestling pit. If it isn't old Zeb Crocker back from the dead, or close enough to count. Rumors had it that he was last seen about 2 weeks East of Olympus Mons, going on again about hitting the big time in another of his crazy hot tips on untapped veins of Cavorite. But that was a few months ago when he tried borrowing money from anyone within a day's ride from heree willing to lend him the necessary funds to conduct a one-man expedition to god knows where when he got caught in one of the dust storms that frequent the area. Afterwards, rumored had spread that he was taken by raiders, attacked by the Martians or killed by some of the local mob that me inadvertently pissed off. He was the kind of guy that seemed to be the embodiment of sleaze and who one was merely cordial with at best. Apparently, he must have struck it rich or absconded with the loans and hid in the Drunken Bull since he seems to have no problem betting thick wads of cash on the outcome of the wrestling match.
You see a very familiar face amongst the people near the wrestling pit. If it isn't old Zeb Crocker back from the dead, or close enough to count. Rumors had it that he was last seen about 2 weeks East of Olympus Mons, going on again about hitting the big time in another of his crazy hot tips on untapped veins of Cavorite. But that was a few months ago when he tried borrowing money from anyone within a day's ride from heree willing to lend him the necessary funds to conduct a one-man expedition to god knows where when he got caught in one of the dust storms that frequent the area. Afterwards, rumored had spread that he was taken by raiders, attacked by the Martians or killed by some of the local mob that me inadvertently pissed off. He was the kind of guy that seemed to be the embodiment of sleaze and who one was merely cordial with at best. Apparently, he must have struck it rich or absconded with the loans and hid in the Drunken Bull since he seems to have no problem betting thick wads of cash on the outcome of the wrestling match.
Also in attendance is a feller' from Second Amendment he swindled a fortune out of last year. He sits at one of the tables near the Berbers staring daggers at you from the atop the rim of his glass.
Entering the bar feels like going home. Save for the variety of morphs, it looked just like any other bar in the Inner Solar System back in your time. People are still gambling, the booze is flowing and though the bar chow smells a lot better than the usual fare.