He started off with the mantid ship with three mantids and an engi. For fun, he gave them redneck names. So began the epic of the Gila Monster, as detailed by crewman Earl.
That was the point at which he finally died, but he's started up a new game with another mantis ship, naming them Earl, Clem, Lenerd, and Ugly Jack. We'll see how their adventure continues from there.Dear diary,
Well, about now I reckon we're in a whole heap of trouble. Turns out some folks out here ain't real glad t'be part of the Federation, an' have made their intentions clear in suchwise they've blown the smithereens outta every Federation ship for lightyears bar one. That one barred bein' the Gila Monster. That means me, Clem, Lenerd, an' Skeeter need to haul chitin outta this sector an' try to warn the Federation fleet. We got ourselves a nice headstart, but you better believe those sons of blackholes are gonna dog our heels every stepjump of the way.
Lenerd's a fair decent navigator, so I figure we can make things outta here pretty easy. Skeeter's an engi, and not quite the right folk (lackin' claws an' compound eyes), but he's pretty good with a wrench, an' ought t'keep the ship runnin', likewise the still.
--Earl
Dear diary,
We have found ourselves athwart a bunch of blackhearted piratical folks as decided to help themselves to our ship. Bein' rather attached to the Gila Monster (and our haemolymph), Clem an' I took matters into our own claws an' teleported over onto their ship. While Skeeter an' Lenerd took care o' the shipwise side o' things, we clawmurdered the whole pirate crew, an' took ourselves a missile launcher. Skeeter took one look at it an' declared he could jimmy it to fire two missiles instead o' just one.
--Earl
Dear diary,
Skeeter was very good at makin' moonshine. He was not, it turns out, quite so good at catchin' missiles.
We were skirtin' through a system in the ass end o' nowhere when we come across a rebel ship. They opened fire afore we could do much, so me an' Clem skittered off to the teleporter an' started to wreak some fair havoc with their formerly internal organs. Sadly, we were a hair slow gettin' their weapons offline, an' they launched a missile that, as it turned out, went right for the still. Truly, these savages ain't got no sense of honor. Skeeter happened to be there, an', well, the destruction so wrought is ultimately a testament to the strength of his character an' moonshine. Rest in peace, Skeeter.
We held a very nice funeral service. Turns out Lenerd knows a great recipe for barbecue engi. Tastes like housefly.
--Earl
Dear diary,
We have come to a crossroads, an' I fear the signpost was blurry. I can only hope against hope as that I have made the right decision.
With the tragical loss of Skeeter, we are short-clawed, an' I fear we cannot run this ship well without it. We have come across a station as had some people bonded into servitude. He was willin' as we could buy out someone's contract, but we're a mite short of foldin' money. In the end, I had to sell off all weaponry as wasn't me or Clem. We bought us the contract on a hoomin-type person by the name of Lana. She's got not much engineerin' experience, but s'long as she can hold a wrench, she'll learn.
--Earl
Dear diary,
It turns out that Lana, in spite of havin' suchwise a name, is in possession of male genitalia! Clem an' me had a talk about it as we were fightin' some pirates.
"Earl, I reckon that Lana feller's a mite confused," he said as he scythed off a zoltan's torso.
"That is as may be," I replied, as I blocked a knife thrust, "but that's for him to work out in his own time."
"I figure he just needs t'find hisself a nice lady friend to bite his head off," Clem said.
"Maybe he don't want to have his head et' off," I countered, as I relieved a pirate of his arm. "Maybe he wants t'eat some other feller's head. It's his life, t'live as he sees fit."
Well, the long of short of it is that I weren't quite able to bring Clem around, but I reckon I gave him somethin' t'think about. Oh, an' we killed all the pirates, an' found a prisoner in their hold. 'Nother hoomin type by the name o' Jack. They left him nekked, so no idear yet whether he prefers trousers or skirts.
--Earl
Dear diary,
Today, we picked up an engi, an' would you believe it? His name's also Jack! He were a prisoner on a ship of mantis pirates! They had him locked up with the pigs an' terror-wasps. He gets all twitchy around bacon now. We've taken t'callin' him Ugly Jack, an' the human Uglier Jack, as to avoid confusion.
Ugly Jack seems a fair hand with a wrench. We'll see in time if he's any skill with moonshine.
--Earl
Dear diary,
We picked up another crewmember. Goddammit, I knew I shoulda kept the missile launcher. Goddamned crossroads.
Anyhow, his name is Jon, an' we found him alone in a derelicted ship orbitin' around the cursed hellmoon of Stygian 4. Real scenic. He was standin' atop the body of the captain of the HMS Illstar, likely on account of how distraught he was over losin' his friends. He has a nice metal hook for a hand, almost like a claw. Most hoomins give me the willies, but I have a real good feelin' about this one.
Anyway, I gotta go an' tear the throats out of some ornery rebel-type folks. I'll write more tomorrow.
--Earl
Dear diary,
Things are settlin' in well here on the Gila Monster. We got our strategery all figured out. While the rest of the crew fixes the guns an' suchwise, me an' Clem go to the other ship an' clawmurder everybody. Sometimes Jon helps, in a tactical-like way. Very good with that hook he is. Clem's started to wonder how the rest of his old crew died, but I reckon nobody who can spit tobacco like that can be all bad. I've taken t'callin' him Jon-Boy.
Now, don't tell Clem on account of him bein' so all-fired up judgmental, but I reckon Lana's sweet on Jack. Ugly Jack, that is. Time will tell if those feelin's are reciprocatal.
Uglier Jack works our weapons. Oh, we got us a weapon! It's an ion cannon. It turns off their shields. If we had other weapons, that'd come in real handy.
--Earl
Dear diary,
We got us a new crew member. We're near at full capacitation. This feller's a psychic slug by the name of Mathieu. He talks kinda snooty, but he uses those brains o' his to help keep track o' what's goin' on all over the ship. With this complement of crew, I feel certain we will soon find us a nice weapon an' we'll be the nearest thing to invincible this side o' Arthropod Jesus.
--Earl
Dear diary,
Well, remove my interaction with the electromagnetic force an' call me dark matter if I weren't wrong last entry. Pride, as my dear ma said, do goeth before you get a whoopin'. We went up against a crew of fella mantises as took exception to our ability to cycle air through our spicules. They proceeded to wreak all sorta trouble through the ship, despite our best efforts to kill the lot of 'em. They took Jon-Boy prisoner, an' I had to send all crew to the escape pods. Me, Clem, Lenerd, an' Ugly Jack all got in the same pod, an' I haven't a clue what happened to the rest of the crew.
On the plus side, the pirates ain't followed us, so I got some hope Jon-Boy's doin' well.
--Earl
