Frank Application

Title: Frank Thompson's Truck & Trader Flags [Post-Launch Request]

Requested items: Trader flags sufficient for low-end to some medium-end items, of various types. No doomsday weapons.

Reasoning: For the character, Frank Thompson, to sell items from the back of a hover-truck. Said things would be reasonably priced and would allow me to travel around various maps to sell things, as well as give people a small, mobile hub of roleplay that isn't a strip-club.

Backstory: Though born on Fornacis to mixed parentage (Emperian father, Sigulian mother), Frank didn't spend much time on the planet itself. At around fifteen years of age he left the planet with his father to trade elsewhere, being a part of a ship's crew (though not being part of how said ship functioned, more of a glorified passenger). Five years later he made off on his own, renting a small stall on a station known simply as Vega Station, which was orbiting a frontier world of a similar sort to Fornacis (thought not at all as dangerous).


Fifteen years spent on the station gave him plenty of experience in the business of buying and flipping goods in order to make money, but his independent streak made him enemies with a local crime syndicate when he refused to pay protection fees. Several fire-fights and a couple of close calls later, his friends decided for him that the best course of action was to get Frank off the station (mostly against his will. A space station is a bad place for a turf-war).

And so he found himself in a self-contained spacesuit and a briefcase full of cash, himself stowed away inside a partially emptied crate of pineapples so as to fool the weight-sensors and anybody that may be checking extra carefully for stowaways. He stayed like that for a week, his suit taking care of bodily waste and other bodily functions, though by no means was it comfortable.

The trip itself wasn't anything worth mentioning, but his arrival on Fornacis was. An astronaut popping out of a crate during the middle of a street battle between two rival gangs is not the most common sight, especially an astronaut smelling strongly of pineapples. Suffice to say, Frank got out of there as quickly as possible.

Out of the spacesuit and into less noticeable clothes, Frank was better able to blend into the population, and with a briefcase full of cash it didn't take long for him to make "friends" quick.