(OCC) Hello everyone! Before you start RPing, take a peek at these small requirements!
1. This is an Exile only RP(mostly). Some Dominion characters may be able to fit in this RP. Please ask before joining as a Dominion character.
2. Only about 6 people or so at one time please. In this RP, you are an Exile who has found an small baby bundle at your front door. You discover that it contains a helpless baby Chua. You decide what your character will do, care for it and give it some love, or leave it to die in the cold. The first person to join the RP will become the main caretaker(or not) unless stated otherwise. (Please DO NOT troll and kill the baby right at the start)
Just a side note: This RP is meant to be like a fairly short story, the story will end when the baby is killed or grows up to be an adult. I will restart the story when it ends, and each time it restarts, it will change a little each time. Ex. the baby will have a different personality, fur color, and gender. (The story starts of the same way each time however)
It was a dark and frigid night. Dead leaves littered the mossy ground and mushrooms poked their heads out of the soil. The night was still and silent, until a high pitched wail pieced the air. It came from a tiny bundle, all alone, small and helpless. The bundle was really a old rust colored blanket. It had a small rip in the side, from which a tiny hand-like paw reached out. The paw belonged to a Chua. A baby Chua. It squealed for attention, as it little tummy rumbled hungrily. It was waiting for it's mother to come and retrieve it.
But she never came. It sat all alone on the cold doorstep, frozen tears running down its cheeks.
What did it ever do to deserve this? It was innocent, harmless. But yet, no one wanted it. The poor baby's eyes slowly focused onto the light from within the house.
The Thorn of Arboria opens his door, and looks down at the child with surprise. An expression that's soon replaced by a mischievous smirk as he brings his newest recruit inside.
This seems really interesting. Would each person be receiving a baby, or just one at a time and the others would be involved with it?
"You poor, poor fool. It must be hell inside your head, unable to see anything for what it really is."
"Ssshhh. Do not open your eyes, child, for the reality is far harsher than the deepest pits of hell."- Varynn Mystgrove, The Thorns of Arboria.
(OCC) Everyone will be involved in caring for the baby. They could join in as a spouse, friend, neighbor, etc. One interesting idea is if someone would join in as a nosy neighbor who is trying get you in trouble for housing a Chua! I said mostly Exile because a Dominion character could be easily fit in. Ex. Trying to locate the new owner baby, thinking you captured it. Because there are so many possibilities, I have to limit the number of characters to make it easier and more fun. Once the story ends, new people will be given a chance to RP.
. . .
The little baby squealed in surprise as he picked up by warm arms. He cocked his head to the side, wondering what type creature had just picked him up. It certainly wasn't his mama. Was it his dada?
Kit Spatchka let his tattered luggage slump to the floor, the sad impact kicking up eddies of dust as the floorboards to his shiny new pad groaned begrudgingly. "Nice, Protostar," he muttered to himself, almost certain something unsavory had skittered past in the shadows of his periphery. He shuffled over to a window and gave it an upward heave, brittle wood spitting paint chips as the heavy panel scraped against its unwilling frame. An anemic huff of air greeted him, damp and grassy.
It was then that he heard the distant cries. Wild, keening, alien cries. Stars, what was that? A shiver ran up his spine as he craned his neck through the newly opened window. His neighbors' skyplots, mostly identical except for a few sundry embellishments, hung unassuming in the mid-morning sky. Whatever the noise had been, it had definitely come from one of those. His imagination raced, stirring up that all-too-familiar what-now wooziness in the pit of his stomach. A sudden sneeze rocked him, and he jerked backwards, whanging his head nicely in the process.
"Gah, seriously?" he whined, capping his ringing noggin with his forearms in agony before scurrying over to his discarded luggage to do some rummaging. Disinfecting wipes. No. Several pairs of matched, paper-white socks docked into tidy bundles. Nope. Dog-eared copy of Space Girls Gone Loopy. Er. Gluten-free, food-free, hypoallergenic protein bars (chocolate flavored). Maybe later. First aid kit. Aha! -
He slithered back to the window, prize clutched protectively in both hands, and resolved - with some degree of mounting terror - to get to the bottom of this.
(OOC) So, yeah - nosy neighbor checking in! (/OOC)
((OCC)) Thank you for joining in on the roleplay! However, the person above has quit the roleplay. So, you can ether quit, or you could become the main caretaker. (They PMed me telling they did have time to roleplay right now.) It would be awesome if you could be the main caretaker! Hope you don't mind.
I think I can come up with a way to pick it up from there, but I'll have to devise an IC reason for getting Spatchka over to the current, now defunct caretaker's skyplot. It'll take me a little while, but it could be fun! Kit pioneering a rescue - especially for something as allergen-infested and inherently dangerous as a baby chua - is waaay out of his already narrow comfort zone and so this whole thing could become hilariously disastrous. Or disastrously hilarious! Either way, I look forward to figuring it out.
Eyepiece-to-goggles, Kit Spatchka watched, his angular form slung motionless from the lip of his open window like some sort of malnourished gargoyle understudy. Below him on the lawn, a protein bar wrapper left to its own devices fluttered by haplessly, snagging itself on blades of grass. He believed he had finally narrowed in on the source of the unidentified noises, and boy was this property a leery one! Dredged in mist and skulking just outside of focus, he could only discern the faintest of details. Windows. A door. Some sinister kind of tree?!
The starforsaken wailing had carried on through much of the morning, more recently accompanied by a bassy, clanging repartee that sounded a little like ongoing construction. But there was also a plaintive note in the cries that had really begun to raise his hackles. Not that this whole situation didn't alarm him. This was merely a peculiar new facet to his already well cemented unease, and it felt worthy of a footnote. After all, if there was an otherworldly frontierbeast stalking his new neighborhood, and if it was, say, somehow injured or in distress, wouldn't that only make it more dangerous? Was that even what was bothering him? Another echoing plea issued from the mysterious skyplot and the knot in his gut tightened.
He hardly had any more time to mull it over. As he looked on, the rebounding clap of a single fired shot rang out from the direction he'd been watching almost all day long. There, in the midst of a burgeoning ring of tawny smoke - something barely visible from this distance - a tiny shape emerged. It was scant at first, a nondescript black speck growing into focus. A bundle of sorts, swaddled like a baby. Funny, it seemed to be headed right for him. He lowered his binoculars and peered, squinting into the blueish afternoon haze lingering over planet Nexus. Yeah, there it was. Definitely a baby. He chewed his lip, sniffed sharply, and brought the pair of lenses back up to his face. He reached for another protein bar, twiddled a dial. He scratched his nose and thought about how creepy lemurs actually were.
Moments later, he lay sprawled amid his bags and boxes in the center of his dim little abode, arms wrapped tenaciously around a gurgling baby chua.
The little baby Chua squirmed playfully in Kit's arms, looking up at him with his shiny black eyes. Who or what is this? It isn't mama or dada. He squinted, trying to get a better understanding. Whatever it is, I like it! Even though he was malnourished and wet, his cinnamon and caramel fur coat still shimmered. The baby smiled, revealing his huge buck teeth, which also turned out to be the only teeth he had! He tried to bounce, making himself even heavier than he already was. The baby was bigger than any normal baby Chua, being almost as large as a medium sized dog.
As he continued to squirm and gurgle, a small, wet, piece of paper fell from within the baby bundle. The note was curling up around the edges and was hastily written, covered in nearly unintelligible scrawl. It read:
You reading this? Then this baby is yours! Chua have too many babies already. This one least likely to survive, not worth Chua's time raising. It would be useful as test subject. You're welcome.
It wasn't signed. The baby paid no attention to the note as it fell. Instead, he began to cry, his stomach growling. He hadn't been fed in at least a day, and was starving.
For what felt like an eternity, Kit stared gape-jawed at the thing screaming in his arms. His gaze passed from baby to soggy, scrabbled note and then to baby again. Several thought processes were clicking into place:
I need to get rid of this. Make it so it never happened.
There is a war criminal in my house. People have been hung for less.
Babies need to eat.
Has it had all its shots? Is it contagious? Who is doing this to me?
What is that smell?!
- and somewhere beneath it all, a feeble, fatalistic panic was trying desperately to assert itself. A stinging in his sinuses snapped him from his reverie.
"Eech!-" He sputtered, scrambling backwards on one arm and nearly dropping the infant. It teetered out of his grasp for just an instant before rocking safely back into his crooked elbow. As it did so, it let loose a giddy peel of high-pitched, burbling laughter. He sneezed and gripped the infant tighter.
Its imploring cries resumed.
"What? What do you want?" Kit hissed, shoving aside a goggle with one balled-up fist to rub ferociously at his eye. He felt his eyelids beginning to swell, red and prickling. "I am sooo allergic to you! Here -" Gently placing the illicit critter on the floor, he sidled over to one of his cardboard boxes and produced a glass bottle filled with a mealy, brownish liquid. "Flavored Artificial Beverage," the yellow label proclaimed in bold, frontier lettering. "Quasi-Cocoa!" The lid released an effervescent sigh as he popped the seal.
"You can have this while I go make a call." He set down the drink, pushed himself up onto his feet, and shakily made his way over to the crude, wall-mounted comms terminal that the housing folk had just installed yesterday. I simply have to be honest, he reassured himself. Straightforward. These are my circumstances and as long as I explain them to the best of my ability, I'm sure they'll sort everything out for me. I've done nothing criminal here. I'm the victim! He shifted his regard back over to the child, who was weebling ineffectually in its blanket, beady eyes fixed on the chocolaty beverage just beyond reach.
"I wonder what they'll do with him." he thought, only half dialing the number. "Deportation, I guess. I don't think they'd lock him up anywhere. I mean, it's only a baby, right? It's not like babies are ever tried as war criminals.
We're not the Dominion.
We don't dissect our war criminals.
Right! He'll probably just get lost in the system, somebody's paperwork."
He stopped dialing entirely. Exhaling grimly, he thrust the receiver into its cradle and hung his head. Then, he picked it up and dialed a new number. "Hi, is this Smokey's House of Mostly Meats in Thayd? Do you deliver? Yeah? Okay, great, I'll have the special. Um, all six legs. Yeah, original's fine. Uh-huh. No, ew - no slaw. Oh, and this is gonna sound a little weird, but do you have milk?"
About an hour later, a dry, sated baby chua and a nauseated, semi-conscious Kit Spatchka sat in relative silence on a shabby recliner surrounded by take-out food packaging. A soft drink bottle with the finger portion of a latex glove stretched over it rolled from Spatchka's hand and clattered lightly to the floor, its insides still a little frothy from the milk. He sat up abruptly, feeling brief dread as the day's improbable events replayed themselves. There was no way he was equipped to deal with any of this. On his lap, his uninvited guest continued to snooze undisturbed.
"Crap," he murmured, receding despondently into his recliner. Defeat was nothing new to him. "He's lucky he's so darned cute."
Keeran Chernikova could not sleep. Spending hours upon hours, hunched over her fancy desk, the aurin woman was surviving on sheer will power and lots, and lots of coffee. A loose ebony black hair strand gets brushed off her pale tired face and she steals a glance down at her pregnant belly.
She really should get some rest.
She really shouldn't drink all that coffee.
Instead, she reclines into her chair and makes a quick call for a shuttle. Yes, I want shuttle right now. Why? None of your business. Just take me anywhere. Yes, you heard me right.
Fly until I tell you to land. And I heard that grunt. If you don't come in right this second...
By the time the shuttle arrived, she was ready - new layer of make up, fresh clothes and another five layers of hair spray. No unneeded fold, no loose streaks. The finishing touches were applied in the shuttle itself. Oh how badly that Ekose piloted. Badly, but admittedly very efficiently.
With the corner of her eye she spots a skyplot, just hovering there. It looked rather empty. Unprotected at the first glance, but couple of lights did pop here and there. With one precise but careless motion the Commander directs the shuttle to approach the skyplot.