<div class="floatright">(https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/bd0d5b3d-d5aa-4913-b587-901d54b582f7/d8hjjlz-79555304-5f4c-4ba0-9369-c14c65a631b8.jpg/v1/fill/w_1024,h_1924,q_75,strp/badass_scifi_gal_by_leejj_d8hjjlz-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTkyNCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2JkMGQ1YjNkLWQ1YWEtNDkxMy1iNTg3LTkwMWQ1NGI1ODJmN1wvZDhoampsei03OTU1NTMwNC01ZjRjLTRiYTAtOTM2OS1jMTRjNjVhNjMxYjguanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEwMjQifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.-c8yS5bhEYKcnM-yhzQbLDWwPK_ynjb8LPIeqUIGg04)</div><tt class="bbc_tt"><strong>Name:</strong> Reva Morten (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=315224.msg15234208#msg15234208)<br/><strong>SP:</strong> 45/45      <strong>HP:</strong> 34/34      <strong>RP:</strong> 6/6<br/><strong>Weapon IN HAND:</strong> (None)<br/><strong>Equipped Armour:</strong> D-suit I (EAC 19, KAC 20)<br/><strong>Carried Weapons:</strong> Tactical baton +7, 1d4+2 B (melee); tactical semi-auto pistol +8, 1d6+2 P (30 ft), 9/9 charges<br/><strong>Consumables:</strong> flash grenade I (2), stickybomb grenade I (2), canteen, 2 days rations</tt><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Bracing herself against one of the handholds spaced at regular intervals along the cargo bay's wall, Reva was on edge. Her bones quaked in dissonant rhythm to the superstructure of the cargo hauler as it dropped from Drift space and into the gas giant's vast gravity well. Direct orbital injection was something she never quite got used to, particularly with the knowledge that any slight error in calculation or piloting could mean disaster: Too far, and it would cost further days or even weeks of sub-light travel; too close, and the ship would get captured in a terminal descent and get crushed in the planet's atmosphere.<br/><br/><em>Happy thoughts, now.</em><br/><br/>The moment passed quickly enough, and as the ship gently descended to touch down on the moon's surface, Reva took a final moment to verify the surface navigation data was properly synchronized to her personal rig, and to check her suit pressurization for what must have been the third time. Aside from her usual travelling gear, she packed enough water and liquid ration packs to last the party two days, courtesy of the<em>Caterwaul</em>, along with suit sealant for emergencies. Valerie, playful as ever, gave her a wink as they all approached the rear of the ship, eliciting a raised eyebrow and the hint of a well-concealed smirk in return. For as often as Reva found the girl's cutesy antics to be a source of frustration and embarrassment, Valerie had shown herself to be eager, passionate, and quite capable when the situation demanded it, and Reva could not help but acknowledge a soft spot for her.<br/><br/>The half-elf she did not know quite as well, having met only recently. Whereas Valerie flitted about like a happy-go-lucky ingenue, Lyssiah moved like a weapon. She seemed disinclined to speak much at all, but carried herself with the subtle gravitas of someone well-versed in the ways of intrigue and violence, leading Reva to suspect she was some kind of enforcer or assassin-for-hire. Reva had her reservations about that one, but so far saw no indication they could not get along—if not as friends, then as partners, at least.<br/><br/>"Right," Reva replied over the comm channel, climbing into the driver's seat of the buggy, "No point spending more time out there than we have to. I'll send Jules ahead to take point, watch for any surprises." By all accounts, the moon was empty, sterile, and utterly uninteresting, but it never hurt to take precautions.<br/><br/>On this cue, a sleek, round hover-drone about the width of her shoulders moved ahead, ion turbines keeping it level and near-motionless as it waited silently to proceed. The exterior airlock opened ahead of them, and Reva engaged the buggy's drive, giving Valerie and Lyssiah time to board before disembarking.