Post by TF Sparks on Aug 8, 2018 2:41:17 GMT
In a system full of neutral groups- marauder bands, mercenaries, pirate queens, faction sympathizers, among others- the worst of them all was the Autobots' target. A band of ruthless opportunists, so the stories say: this group for years has swooped in after terrible battles to pick the losing party apart, showing no mercy to the injured and slaughtering any survivors, to add the fallen's weapons, ships, and armor to their motley armada. While it certainly isn't the largest neutral fleet in the system, everyone knows of the brutality the group shows to any unfortunate to pick a fight, and lose. So often did they cycle through new equipment, ship remodels, refurbishments, and even entire overhauls, they earned themselves a name: "The Roulettes."
Now, the fleet is resting in a cluster of the solar system's asteroid belt. Several smaller ships- cargo ships and more nimble freighters and corvettes, mostly- watch over the fleet as the Roulette's number of even smaller fighters rest dormant within the first of two larger ships that make the core of the formation; a large cargo ship equipped with simple weaponry and tools which looks to be made into their command and troop carrying vessel, while the other beside it is a refitted battleship to accompany and defend the main ship.
None of them even resemble a similar model to one another; such is the nature of this fleet, attesting to the reason for their group's name. An assortment of mismatched colors paints the fleet in a disorderly fashion: some corvettes flaunt a fashion of vibrant blues and reds and greens, perhaps freshly painted, while others among the smaller cargo ships wear a more worn, muted version of the same colors. The main vessel, the cargo and troop transport, is similarly dull in color with a deep, forest green to make up the color of its main body, and streaks of yellow that fade nearly to the point of becoming unrecognizable serve as decoration for the ship's hull. Meanwhile, the cargo vessel's battleship counterpart sports a raging deep red, the belly of its hull only slightly calming it down with a light grey.
The fleet is silent, and still. Only the dull blue, orange, red, and pinks of their thrusters signify life on board the ships of the fleet. They rest as they assess the worth of their new acquirements, having come fresh from a particularly impressive haul. Members of the Roulettes each indulge themselves in their own ways, gleefully adding new metal to their armor, recovered weapons to their armory, and fuel to their stores as a few members of the group scavenge what few pieces of galactic currency the unfortunate ships they picked clean had with them. All's well in the life of the rapscallions.
Now, the fleet is resting in a cluster of the solar system's asteroid belt. Several smaller ships- cargo ships and more nimble freighters and corvettes, mostly- watch over the fleet as the Roulette's number of even smaller fighters rest dormant within the first of two larger ships that make the core of the formation; a large cargo ship equipped with simple weaponry and tools which looks to be made into their command and troop carrying vessel, while the other beside it is a refitted battleship to accompany and defend the main ship.
None of them even resemble a similar model to one another; such is the nature of this fleet, attesting to the reason for their group's name. An assortment of mismatched colors paints the fleet in a disorderly fashion: some corvettes flaunt a fashion of vibrant blues and reds and greens, perhaps freshly painted, while others among the smaller cargo ships wear a more worn, muted version of the same colors. The main vessel, the cargo and troop transport, is similarly dull in color with a deep, forest green to make up the color of its main body, and streaks of yellow that fade nearly to the point of becoming unrecognizable serve as decoration for the ship's hull. Meanwhile, the cargo vessel's battleship counterpart sports a raging deep red, the belly of its hull only slightly calming it down with a light grey.
The fleet is silent, and still. Only the dull blue, orange, red, and pinks of their thrusters signify life on board the ships of the fleet. They rest as they assess the worth of their new acquirements, having come fresh from a particularly impressive haul. Members of the Roulettes each indulge themselves in their own ways, gleefully adding new metal to their armor, recovered weapons to their armory, and fuel to their stores as a few members of the group scavenge what few pieces of galactic currency the unfortunate ships they picked clean had with them. All's well in the life of the rapscallions.
