A little goes a long way. (Rimor)

[Falikos]

Kate Phare sits in the cafe of the shop in Borealis, sipping tea and looking over a data pad. The nanomage's face is a mask of troubled concentration as she taps the keys to make changes to her document. "Well, guess that'll have to do," she says to herself as she touches the keys and sends the message on it's way.

An open message to all peoples of Rubi-Ka:

-re·spect-

-To avoid violation of or interference with.
-The state of being regarded with honor.

Synonyms:
Consideration, courtesy, deference, dignity, show courtesy.

A reminder to myself and others in reguards to: Negotiations, social gatherings, in-fighting, disagreements, war, politics, economy, merchant services, and other interactions with the people that live on this planet; sharing belifes, faction, or nothing.

A little goes a long way,
-Falikos

[Killchain]

The early morning mist begins to be burnt away by the two suns... the time of morning where the crispness of the new day lingers in your nostrils and the slight chill wakes your bones from slumber. The time of day before the hustle and bustle of Borealis is known, where the streets are almost bare of people.

Boots walk softly down the main street of Borealis, their sharp thumping sound reverbing off the high walls. The mist curls from them as if being pursued.

Brendan Nygaard walks the streets, watching. He is the self-proclaimed leader of the Defense Force, an interim police force supported and led by Shattered Dreams. He is a tall, well-built man, in his mid twenties with short-cut black hair. His upper arms both carry the ink of the company he was in, and perched on his nose are a pair of sunglasses, even though the suns have barely graced the city. A rifle strapped to his back, he walks briskly, warming his gloved hands periodically.

Since his request to head up this Force, patrolling had given Brendan many opportunities to think. Time to think about himself, his position, how he affects people around him, his goals.

On this particular morning, he was thinking about how he came to be where he was.

Every step, every turn ended in one thing, one person who hoisted him up, assisted in his goals, drug him from his own pits of Hell and pushed him to finish what he started. His commander and President, Katelin "Falikos" Phare. A stunningly beautiful nanomage girl, tall and thin.

Katelin had a charisma about her, the kind of charisma that made bustling rooms hush when she entered. The kind of charisma that melted hearts with a word of kindness and shattered bravado with a stern lecture. She had the charisma of a general, of a mother, of a friend. The kind of charisma that made felled warriors rise again to fight for just a bit longer... the charisma that made the enemy run in fear.

Brendan grunted and chuckled to himself, almost in reverence to her. She had brought him so far since he arrived on Rubi-Ka. She celebrated his winnings with him and encouraged him when he had losses... and when he tried to run she would stop him. When his self-esteem would crush him with guilt she would lift it from him, allowing him to escape. She had laughed with him, cried with him, given him counsel and asked for it as well. She was his best friend on this planet, no, the universe. One of few who could truly see into his soul and help him untangle it. One of few who would put forth the effort to do so.

He ran his hand over his neck, sighing with the weight of the many thanks he wished he could say but wouldn't. Thanks for things, small things. Thanks for seeing Katelin, standing in the crowd on the main street like a pillar upholding the standards of Shattered Dreams, of Brendan. Thanks for the idle chat even though he could see she was trying very hard to hide the fact she was very busy. Thanks for being a friend.

He grinned in the dim morning light, remembering his first day as a Shattered Dreams recruit. Being brought before her, being almost knocked flat by the command that radiated from her. His first thoughts were how she would be like any other commander he had served under, a cold, unreachable figure who passed requests down the chain of command.

Brendan couldn't have been more wrong.

Two days after he was recruited, she offered him tea in the local bar, the Fair Trade. And there, their bond was forged. Katelin secured Brendan's loyalty by challenging the walls he had thrown up around his soul, pushing and prodding until she finally broke through and found out why Brendan was on Rubi-Ka. Found out his sealed away Shattered Dream.

He shook his head at that thought, scattering it. He didn't want to think about that.

He saw a quick movement, a streak of black from the left side of his vision. Up high, on the ledge above him. He turned abruptly left, walking to the staircase behind the ledge. His footsteps increased noticably, racketing off the walls as he approached the stairs.

He clomped up the stairs, his eyes darting back and forth, a hand on his rifle. At the top of the stairs, he saw the horizon. The first sun was about to break the mold of the sands, caressing the sky. He turned, his back to the horizon, and saw a figure. In the increasing sunlight stood a a tall figure in a black cloak and a hood, their back to Brendan. The cloak fluttered in the slight wind, and the hood was bowed, as if the head of the wearer were weary.

Brendan took three steps, and stopped. He said in his strong, low-tone voice, "Can I help you?"

The figure spoke, the voice feminine. "Is what I do enough, Brendan?"

Brendan recognized the voice. He started to talk, but stopped himself when his mouth opened. He was thinking of something to say as the figure spoke again.

"Sometimes I wonder if I do enough, Brendan. Do I do enough? Can I keep it together?"

Brendan stilled, and after a few moments he spoke. "If you truly want to, you can do anything. If you want to keep it together, you can."

The figure turned around, and lowered the hood. Katelin faced Brendan, and said in a low voice: "Thank you."

As the sun behind Brendan broke free of the bonds of the sands, the wash of sunlight lit up Katelin Phare in a halo of sunlight. To Brendan, he saw the power of her resolve, her leadership, in that symbolism. And he knew then that he would always be under her command, and he would lay down his life for his best friend, his commander.

Brendan brought his hand to his brow quickly, and clapped his boots together. He stood for minutes, saluting Katelin in the sunlight. She smiled at him softly, saying, "At ease, soldier."

Brendan dropped the salute, smiled to his friend. He left her there, standing in the sunlight.

---

Respect is not given to you. It is returned to you from those that you give it to. Respect is not a commodity, or a currency. Respect is something you wish to give. Respect cannot be taken by force. Respect can't be begged for, stolen, or traded.

Respect is the hand on the shoulder when you're down. Respect is the friend who jumps to save your life. Respect is the commander who will stop everything to issue words of encouragement. Respect is the friend who you can rely on, who you can trust and confide in. Respect is the friend who will knock you back on track when you're derailing.

What is respect to me?

Respect is Falikos.

--Brendan

[Falikos]

((Another post from another character's perspective So yeah, not from Falikos but from Riiyan. Can read about her here if you like. http://forums.anarchy-online.com/sho...hreadid=167579 If you have a story about how your charicter learned the art of respect or... well... didn't post away!))

Riiyan had been away from "home" so long that RubiKa and Borealis was starting to feel more like home to her than any memory. Things were good, things were bad... things just went, and she went with them in her usual style. Usual style? Yes... suppose biting, rude, and distrustful could be concidered a style.

The tall fixer was a wound up ball of venim just looking for a target, and she found it one afternoon while making a "purchase" from a gentleman in Old Athen. The weapon had been expensive, but the older fixer had assured her that it would be top rate for someone of her skill, despite it's well used look. Following a bit of bartering the gun was hers and Riiyan dashed out into the wilds to test it. The target was an easy one just a rollerrat god she hated those things. Takeing an easy aim with the light weapon the fixer pulled steadily back on the trigger anticipating the splattering of the creature.... but nothing... the weapon was jammed.

"Why that cheating, lying, son of a.." but the string of insults stopped as the charging mechanism in the gun started to overheat and fuse. Throwing the gun onto the raw dirt in what can only be described as a hissy fit, the fixer went on in a string of hate that would make a notum cargo ship capitan blush. Regaining her composure after her explosive moment Riiyan marched back into Old Athen to look for the "merchant in question", one Ramid of Vox Populi.

She wasted no time in getting to their usual hang out, and was greeted by several of his guildmates. Partners in crime Riiyan's face sported a grin that looked like someone had painted it on her it looked so unnatural and through clinched teeth requested Ramid's presence.

"Sorry toots, he's not around, ran off to do some job or somethin," spoke a tall soldier that was smiling at her with marked amusement.

Riiyan narrowed her eyes and spat out, "Fine! I want to speak to his supierior then! He sold me garbage and I intend to get my credits back."

"Yeah yeah, hold your horses," came the reply as the soldier began speaking into his comm with hushed tones, then turned to face her. "Juri will be with you momentarily, have a seat."

"I'd rather stand."

"Yeah, well, suit yourself" The soldier shruged and went back to talking with his friends and left her standing there stewing in her own frustration.

This Juri better have a way to get my money back. I'm not leaving here without proper compensation. Garbage! Bastard sold me garbage!

A calm voice interupted her stream of thought just as she was feeling really worked up with a cheerful "Howdy." A man stood in front of her; a sharply dressed solitus, with green hair, mirrored sunglasses, and an expression of confidence that he wore easily. Great... not going to get anywhere with this guy.

"What seems to be the problem exactly?"

Riiyan tossed him the weapon without warning, but he caught it easily and looked it over. Juri ran his hands over the weapon as if he were scanning it then thumbed backed the partially fused chamber. He was looking at it carefully when he started laughing quietly, and it quickly spread into roar.

Furious that he was laughing at her Riiyan got in his face and screamed. "What in the HELL is so funny!?"

"This."

Juri had pulled something out of the weapon, and handed it gingerly to Riiyan to inspect. It was a ball of paper that the previous owner had shoved in there to alter the fireing rate. Riiyan growled and reached back to throw the wad as far as she could when Juri caught her wrist.

"I wouldn't do that... unfold it first."

Riiyan made to throw it anyway, but the look on his face changed her mind from anger to curiosity and she quickly unfolded it. It was a lable from a bottle of imported rum, the expensive stuff.

"He drinks this stuff I take it," she said as she held up the yellowed paper.

"Not anymore. He's quit," smiled Juri with a wink.

A slow comprehension crept over Riiyan and she smiled back. "Yes, I'll have to send him a thank you note for this fine weapon... perhaps a gift."

Juri nodded and digitized, off to tend to more pressing business and Riiyan tapped quickly on her comm and spoke.

"Three cases of Sugar Free Rum, delivered to one Ramid please." She was smiling and tapping the gun on her hip while she talked. "Note? Yeah... sign it.. 'With love, Riiyan, hope it kills you.' "

[_______________Grues]

Meda Shenkel read the message the leader of her organization had just sent out publicly. A cynical smile visited her face and then disappeared, making room to the usual controlled expression. Falikos with her utopias, she thought. "If we all just were nice to each other." As if it was that easy.

She clicked the comm unit open and pulled out the specifications for her next job. Absentmindedly thinking about the nanos she would need to run on the job - shouldn't be too difficult to bring him down, shouldn't need anything I can't do myself - she stepped out from her apartment to the bright afternoon sun of Borealis.

"Could you help me, please?" A slim boy, very obviously a new arrival judging from how he looked awkward in this particular gravity, stood at the plaza, looking confused. He was wearing a t-shirt with a clan slogan printed on it. Meda stepped by, ignoring him.

After two steps, she sighed and turned back around. "Yes, what is it?" she said, impatiently.

She told the boy the easiest way to Tir, and how to access the map of the whompa routes in the gridfeed, and even told him the name of the few respectable clans she knew, that could possibly help him out. In the end, he thanked her excessively, but she cut him short.

"No need to thank me."

Frowning, she walked to the Stret West whompa. Respect? She shook her head. You have to respect someone who gets that out of me.

--
Meda "Grues" Shenkel
Apprentice Nano-Technician
Member of Shattered Dreams
Borealis (Rubi-Ka 2)

[langwiz7]

Lastsecond2 smirked slightly at the comment. Normally he would agree with this comment, but after having faced Ian Warr a few times he knew better. "Tolerance, more like. No...Not respect." He said to himself. He had heard both party lines. Over and over. He had rejected them both. They were nothing but empty promises. ' "Take back what's ours...Destroy the Clans" sounds so hollow when you put it next to "Kick Omni-Tek off this planet. Freedom for all." Of course, they have no real intention of freeing everyone. I'm sure when this is all over, and if they win, they'll struggle between each other to decide who rules.' And repeat ad nausium.

'Maybe settling here wasn't such a good idea after all...And yet...how could I leave? I wouldn't get to see my friends again, or help them,' he thought.

Then...out of nowhere...he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Realizing his thoughts had led his feet straight into a mantis den, he shook off the dreary thoughts and concentrated on removing the claw that had been stuck in his shoulder. Firing his manex, he forced the beast back, wrenching out the limb. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, and let the insect eat hot lead.

"Can't a guy muse in peace?" he muttered.

[solitaire]

The tall solitus walked of the shuttle through the terminal dodging the various missionaries and prophonents of the clans omnitek and Neutrality.

"Feh Rubi ka he muttered it sucks to be home".

shifting his bag to take pressure of his wounded hand he walked to the nearest ticket terminal.

"Single ticket to Athens one way". The terminal warbled and blinked deducting 50 credits from his acct.

The remaining balance brought a smile to his face.

"Not a bad sum for my own death". Laughing he headed for the Shuttle leaving for Athens.

30 minutes later he found himself walking through the main gate of Athens towards West Athens,

"well first things first"
Turning on his commlink he engaged an encrypted channel
"Juri im back problem solved so i guess im yours for the time being. We will take care of the paperwork once im done saying my goodbyes to a few people"

Shutting off the channel he turned to walk again when the commlink warples softing.

"damn not back 10 minutes"
checking the display a small text message scrolls across the screen

<<stories of my demise are greatly exagerated>>
Riiyan.

"oh bloody blazes"
with a quick snap of his hands the Solitus becomes covered in the blue digital matrix of his grid armor and from the bag pulls his gun checking the ammo.

"well i do guess i am home"