• Nobles of Null is a forum based roleplay site where sci-fi and magic collide. Here, Earth remains fractured and divided despite humanity reaching out to the stars. Worse still, the trans-human slaves of one major power have escaped, only to establish their own Empire, seething with resentment at abuses of the past. Even the discovery of aliens, though medieval in development, has failed to rally these squabbling children of Earth together with its far darker implications. Worse still, is the discovery of the impossible - magic. Practiced by the alien locals, nearly depleted and therefore rare, its reality warping abilities remains abstract and distant to the general populace. All the while, unseen in the darkness of space, forces from without threaten to press in. For those with eyes opened by insight, it is clear that an era is about to end, and that a new age will dawn.

Chapter 2: The Grand Cabaret


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Hawking System
In Orbit of Planet Bruno
Fuminsho Station
May 10th 2321

"Are you ready to show your weapons to the boss?" The swordswoman asked, still wearing her rather 'loud' suit, black silk with some subtle patterning over a right red shirt with pop'd collar. The blade she swore by was still on her hip, her hand never quite leaving the handle...

... even though HER future depended on this presentation too

... not that she was being much of a help getting set up.

The past two months she'd busied herself with keeping Hilda busy making weapons, constantly insisting that the guns Hilda was making 'weren't good enough' or just 'weren't as good as a sword'. Despite her complaints, she was doing her best to get Hilda the tools she needed to work, the chemicals she needed to produce ammo. Over two months she had plenty of time to stockpile the numbers of guns and ammunition that were being demanded of her.

The tight schedule left little time for her to relax.

It also didn't give her any time to change out of the tight fitting bunny outfit for her second job: Cigarette girl inside of the Grand Cabaret. The job served as a way to plausibly explain her pay and keep the illegal gunmaking under wraps. It also served as a way for the men of the clan to get another enjoyable face to look at.

Both the Swordswoman and Hilda were both in one of the underground rooms below the Cabaret, one with no windows and no cameras...


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"Yes, they're perfectly ready," the blonde haired woman replied. As she pulled up the front of her bunny suit, her feline ears nervously twitched along with her tail. For her, the hardest part of this entire ordeal wasn't making the guns, or the ammunition or the powder or any of that to meet their demands. It was the scandalously salacious and sordid stares and words of these...clansmen? Yakuza? Triad? Hilda wasn't entirely sure, but they reduced her to a sputtering, blushing mess nonetheless many times over. Enough that she'd duck under counter. The only upside was that they at least called her "Midnight" instead of her mother's name.

That would have likely been the breaking point, she mused. This though? This was nothing.

"These babies might be made with volumetric printers, but they'll do the job and then some!" Hilda patted one of her firearms with pride.