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Blasphemaster posted:It was totally done on the orders of Queen Croc Bitch. I agree with the rest of Blasphemer's vote.
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Sep 26, 2016 18:07
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Blasphemaster posted:It was totally done on the orders of Queen Croc Bitch. This, but leave a short message of the sort 'Apologies for the intrusion, friend. The enemy of my friend is my enemy. Let me know how I can be of service.' Outrail fucked around with this message at 21:24 on Sep 26, 2016 |
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Sep 26, 2016 19:26
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Fury Praxis did it C E
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Sep 26, 2016 20:30
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Outrail posted:The enemy of my friend is my friend. .' Was that misstated on purpose as some sort of code?
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Sep 26, 2016 20:52
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We gotta pin it on someone who won't care and lends credence to it being an act of vandalism. Paint it as an act of ecoterrorism done by one of the low-mid level protest groups. I'm sure a station like this is crawling with fringe types that are barely organized. Enough to pull off a stunt like this, but without the resources to verify they did or or to look into who actually did it. Also the station most likely doesn't like them for being meddlers in general and no one will miss it. 2. B Hit the competition directly. Everything else is too messy and leaves us open to reprisal or discovery. 3. E J Wipe her memory but have it be a time delayed response. We leave overriding commands so she goes home, leaves a small note of resignation and apology and then "self-terminates". It would follow with her fear of her supervisor and the...insidious nature of their conversation. Most likely she is on the list of clean up details so really this is a favor.
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Sep 26, 2016 20:59
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But Ark, if we can have an in with someone on the inside, would that not be beneficial? I know we kind of put whatsername in a poo poo spot but we can twist it around and use it to pick a lock/her brain!
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Sep 26, 2016 21:04
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we just brainhacked someone im p sure they arent gonna be like "ah the internet brain rapist wants me to take some hush money and give them a phone call i will be a useful ally for them now"
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Sep 26, 2016 21:06
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1. idk im not following the dramatis personæ 2. B 3. E
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Sep 26, 2016 21:06
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Blasphemaster posted:Was that misstated on purpose as some sort of code? Uh, whoops. Nothing to see here.
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Sep 26, 2016 21:22
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No witnesses. Dead servers send no packets.
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Sep 26, 2016 21:26
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dongsbot 9000 posted:1. idk im not following the dramatis personæ +1 Any trace of our presence in any of their systems is way to risky- scramble their (meat) computer
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Sep 26, 2016 22:17
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1. Matriarch Yzbey-La (aka Queen Croc Bitch). I wish we could blame Poole, too bad he's actually on the mission. 2. B. Long-term the upgrade should help us more than a one-time cash grab or mission boost. 3. F. Don't take any more chances than you need to (without resorting to outright murder of innocents). 4. L. There's time for a little more preparation, but we shouldn't risk everything by going to Praxis when our odds are already this good.
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Sep 27, 2016 01:29
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1. The slaver hacker/drone rigger: He was ransomed back to his buddies, so let them deal with the pissed off authorities. 2. B: Kinda' want those access codes, but since we're letting the lady remember it'd risk biting us in the rear end. 3. I & Tag it with an apology and offer of a favor or career change.: From the look of things, her job is awful. She's practically a corpse and her boss is a dick. Intentional or not, she did us a favor. Pay in kind. 4. M: We're ready to go, but now we need to get Praxis in on this to deal with Poole's sudden and inevitable betrayal when the time comes.
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Sep 27, 2016 03:24
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Blasphemaster posted:It was totally done on the orders of Queen Croc Bitch. Yep
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Sep 27, 2016 13:54
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Civil service is often the last resort of the desperate. You like to think that no matter how bad you had it, at least you had the fortitude not to throw yourself on the mercy of the worms, but you've come to realize of late that you had it better than most. As surrogate parents went, Poole Midas was on the low end of the respectability scale, but at least he taught you a trade and only exploited you a little. You also possess certain natural advantages that are becoming increasingly evident. Slightly different circumstances than yours, and you could just have easily been strapped into a coffin-chair, renting out brain-cycles to station administration for a K-Cal credit per cycle (before deductions). You're not sure why you leave the comm code for the analyst. You're not typically one for remorse, beyond the sort of semi-apologetic self-service you've tended to inflict on Ramadi, but something about removing agency from another sophont, particularly one who is already enslaved, even if that slavery is technically voluntary indenture, just rubs you the wrong way entirely. You're not sure if she'll remember a tenth of what transpired during her duty shift; there are safeguards in place to prevent memory storage among analysts, particularly those that deal in sensitive data. You certainly don't expect her to tone. Of far greater interest to you at the moment are the cyberframe schematics you liberated from secure storage. The design, which assumes a juranoid pilot, will need some tweaking if you want to use it, and transforming the frame from virtual model to physical prototype will require a level of industrial fabrication you don't yet have access to. All the more reason to ensure this operation goes off, you think.  "I don't see the worms coming down too hard on the Syndies," you explain, shifting restlessly on your feet in the musty confines of the expedited transit pod, "there's no benefit in it. But what is it Ramadi says, Any friction is good friction?" "Maybe," Vare replies, idly twisting a bracelet, "but we don't all of us have the benefit of Ms. Kinu's naturally-lubricating skin. Just watch out for blowback." You nod absently, your mind already shifting to the matter at hand. "If Fury Praxis is running a crew of unlicensed shatterpillars with misappropriated Cartel funds," you muse, "it stands to reason that she'd be interested in an even juicier prize from the Praxis data vaults." "You realize," Vare replies with an anxious edge, "that there's a very real chance that she knows about the wreck already, and letting her know that we know could be...professionally and personally unwise." "She's got resources and manpower that could make a big difference," you state evenly. "And her unique situation means she's not worried about ruffling Praxis's feathers a little." And she despises Midas, you keep to yourself, which could come in handy if he decides to get clever out there. "I think you're overestimating Fury Praxis's ability to play nice," Vare says. "You may have come out of both previous interactions intact, but your results are not typical. And I'd say most people don't look at someone who extorted them and sent them on a suicidal mission and say, 'sure, that's who I want to work with in future.'" "But think, Va-ki," you croon, butting Vare playfully with your head. "If she hadn't sent me into certain death, we never would have bumped into each other again..." "Regal," she laughs, putting out a hand to push you away, but letting it linger, instead. "Pardon me if I don't give Fury credit for what you..." Her eyes lock with yours, and you suddenly become very aware of the heat of her skin.  "Don't mind me, ladies," growls Kamula, leaning back with bemusement against the wall of the ExTran pod. You straighten, perhaps a little too quickly. Vare is just a bit slower to respond, an unreadable grin quirking her mouth. 1. "Anyway," you begin haltingly, "it's a risk..." A. "But it's one we'll just have to take. Believe me, we can sell this." B. "But we're not pushovers. We won't let Fury's reputation cow us, and we won't be afraid to use dirty tri--ah, leverage." C. "And I think you're right: Let's lead with the Helix Ripper angle; she can definitely help us grab that sub, no need to bring the Erb wreck into it." "And if negotiations crack a seal," you add, "well, we did bring K with us."  As you step off the ExTran into the clammy environs of the maintenance bay, you are struck by the aroma of the place. A heady blend of machine lubricants, saltwater, and the particular bitter loaminess of Bar-Yen. Upon reflection, you decide it compares favorably to the worm-sweat and rotting refuse to be found else-sector. You're not certain if your companions share your olfactory insights, but you're very sure that Kamula has already performed a tactical analysis on the area. Scuzzy Jr. is lurking a safe distance away to avoid sending the wrong message, and without your drone's overlay, you have a feeling you're going to be relying on the cyborg's instincts quite a bit. "Moldies incoming, Kore," he rasps, setting his shoulders in an intimidating, but not explicitly threatening manner. You see the Bar-Yen in question, shuffling over to challenge you. That they haven't yet opened fire is promising, but the cycle is still young.  As the cluster of beings moves to intercept you in a loose delta formation, you tick over what you know about Bar-Yen, which unfortunately isn't much. You know they're intensely hierarchical, and that most can understand but not speak parlance, instead communicating through puffs of spores and flashes of light. The one in front, then, flaring its dorsal crest, is both unquestionably in charge of the other two, and hopefully able to communicate with you in some way. The leader brandishes the reciprocating tri-beam welded to its arm, its ocular pore pulsing in what you suspect is intended to be an ominous manner, but instead reminds you of the low-battery indicator on your dental sanitizer. Stepping forward, you modulate your visor's brightness in a pattern your research indicated to be soothing to Bar-Yen. "Fury," you say, waiving smalltalk that in this circumstance would be both pointless and injurious to person, and hoping that your little light show didn't accidentally impugn the Bar-Yen's spawning pit. "We want to talk to Fury." Then you hold your breath. The appeal to authority seems to have the desired effect however, as the leader waves you along with a beckoning pincer, the other two Bar-Yen falling in step as you are lead deeper into the bay.  You are marched to a hatch guarded by a uniquely disreputable-looking individual, one whom you are almost hesitant to label 'pirate,' so obvious is her freebooter's swagger. Pinpoints of crimson light eye you inscrutably from inside a gleaming chromed socket nested deep in heavily scarred flesh. While you find it off-putting, you admit to yourself that you'd like to be half so well put-together after taking what looks like it may have been a point-blank flechette burst to the face. What skin is intact is irregularly melanized, the sign of a long spacing career with inconsistent access to quality ray-shielding. One hand on a hip-slung pulser, the pirate turns to regard you, toggle-studded plaits of platinum hair clicking against each other with the motion. "On 'em now," she growls with a sneer. "We're here to see Fury," you state firmly, reaching back to collect the gift Vare produces (calmly and deliberately) from her shoulder bag, and presenting it for the pirate's inspection. 2. It is... D. A data spindle containing a few choice mineral resource charts Voulge was able to parse from the tangle of Gigantes map data. A useful gift, that acknowledges Fury's illicit business without rubbing her nose in it. E. The same as D, but if there are also a few secure shipping routes in there that weren't edited out, well, accidents happen. F. A bottle of Xivantr 306 Private Reserve, the next to last vintage before the colony's Interdiction by the League Navy. A rarefied and social gift, and an invitation to do polite business. G. An antique comms earpiece, first worn by Ultima Praxis, the cartel's founding Executive, during the Opening of Gigas. A link to the past of Praxis, a way for Fury to connect with her family's storied founder, and a valuable relic. H. A stasis-jar containing a cutting from the Praxis Arcology's celebrated and irreplaceable Exaltation Fir. A link to the future of Praxis, and either a symbol of the life Fury has lost, or of what she could reclaim.
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Sep 30, 2016 14:17
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Sep 30, 2016 18:26
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Erb Primer 1 has been added: VASSAL SPECIES
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Sep 30, 2016 20:09
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H Primer: Erb Weapons and Technology
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Oct 1, 2016 08:43
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C H
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Oct 1, 2016 14:40
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The pirate eyes the stasis jar critically, eye-lights dancing in an indecipherable pattern, but doesn't take it from you. The subtle tilt of her head and the tension of her jaw give you the impression that she's listening to someone over comms. "Poz," she mutters. "You got a few decis with th' Cap'm. Keep it real gelid-like, unless you're lookin' t'start somethin' that I'm gonna finish." Reaching back to palm the keypad, the pirate gestures you through the opened hatch into a cramped access-way with a narrow staircase leading to a foreman's balcony overlooking the bay below.  The tall, slender figure at the rail turns at your approach, a look of cold appraisal cast over refined features. Fury Praxis is smaller out of her armor, but her naked gaze is every bit as penetrating as that the jeweled crimson visor of her combat helmet. "Kore," she begins, voice crisp and clipped. "And Djata." Folding her arms behind he back, you see something that might be approval crease the corners of her eyes. "You're a long way from the thieving wretch I saw not so very long ago. Success seems to agree with you; you've been busy, as rumor would have it." "Praxis-ma," you greet, ducking and tilting your head in formal Jurani Independent-Captain-to-Unaffiliated-Nobility, grateful to Vare for the etiquette study. You see one of Fury's eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly. You hear a less politic snort from the pirate. "No need for that," Praxis replies. "Praxis-ma is my esteemed pater. Do know that I appreciate the consideration, however." Her eyes sweep down to the stasis vessel cradled in your arm. "Is that...?"  You step forward, presenting the fir cutting without additional fanfare, and breathing a silent sigh of relief that Fury downplayed traditional protocol; the leg crosses prescribed were simply not designed with digitigrade appendages in mind. Praxis accepts the vessel and stares for a long moment, slender fingers sliding over the tree's outline beneath the transparent shield. “Legend has it,” Fury begins, “that when the colony's seed-vaults were irradiated during the crossing, the only seed to survive was a single fir, taken from an unspeakably old specimen on Jura Prime. It's a complete fabrication, of course.” Your concern must show on your face, because Fury's expression softens for just a moment before she continues. “The Exaltation Fir in the Praxis arcology may or may not be descended from the original on the homeworld, but it's certainly been cloned and recloned a time or two. And I'm fairly certain the tale of Ultima Praxis planting the lonely seed in a handful of homeworld soil and watering it with her tears actually came from a holo-vid...” Nonetheless, she places the stasis jar down carefully, almost affectionately, and looks back to you with the slightest hint of warmth. "No small degree of thought went into this," she ventures, eyeing you thoughtfully, "and cost. A weighty commitment for a diplomatic token..." "I thought we should start fresh," you comment. "As you said, I'm not the same under-sector scav you dealt with before." "No," agrees Praxis. "You're a shot-caller now, aren't you? From what I hear, you even brought Poole Midas to heel. Not, perhaps, what I would have done, but your game is your own, and I'll reserve judgement as regards personnel decisions." She looks over your shoulder, and nods slightly. "Kamula," she greets cordially, and you hear the cyborg's servos whine faintly with tension. You brought both Vare and Kamula for, among other merits, their history with Praxis, and thankfully they've both managed to keep their tongues and sundry appendages in check so far. "What brings the freshly-fledged operator here today?" Right to it, then. "Are you familiar with the Helix Rippers," you inquire. Fury's expression changes not a whit, and you suppress a pang of envy at her sangfroid. The pirate, on the other hand, audibly spits onto the deck. "Gaff," Fury says with a hint of bemusement. "Something to contribute?" "Might be as I'm familiar with th' outfit," Gaff admits. "From a distance, mind." "Could one assume you're not...favorably inclined toward them," you venture. "Assumptions do precious little for anyone's bottom line," Fury chides mildly, "but they do have an admittedly unsavory reputation." "As it happens," you continue, "they have possession of a vessel. One I require for a future operation. I thought perhaps our interests might align here." "And why ever would that be," inquires Fury, and you can't help but feel strung along. "They're bad for business," you assert. "And what business is that?" You force your teeth not to grit as Fury's emotionless stare transfixes you, and try to ignore the feeling of teeth closing around you. "The kind that spits in the eye of a staid old bureaucrat who never fully appreciated the skill or resolve of his eldest daughter?" "Careful, Kore," Fury warns with neither heat nor malice. "Neither flattering me nor insulting the pater are a way to curry favor. But say I were to help you seize this ship. How do I profit, beyond what I would gain by simply taking the ship for myself?" "You know what happened on Meropus," you challenge, "so I know you're interested in...unique antiquities. Tell me you don't like the idea of being affiliated with a crew able to take on that kind of heat, with a ship able to go after the big scores. Deniably, of course..." "Relic hunting," Fury muses. "Interesting..." She seems intrigued, but no more. 1. Do you want to drop a few teasers about the operation to try to get her on the hook? 2. What sort of offer are you willing to make to secure her assistance? 3. How willing are you to make significant concessions to make it happen? 
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Oct 3, 2016 15:52
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Erb Primer 2 has been added: Erb Weapons and Technology.
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Oct 3, 2016 15:56
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Let Praxis talk now. We baited the hook and cast it into her court. Let her nibble at it before we set it
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Oct 3, 2016 20:41
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Fury Praxis is extremely dangerous and her cartel is notoriously violent, but it seems significantly more professional than many of the other outfits on this station, and as far as I remember it doesn't seem to have much of a connection to slavery, the elimination of which is one of our long-term goals. So we could probably do worse than setting up a relationship with her. Inform her that we already have something in the works once we get this submarine, though we can't divulge exactly what, and we'd be willing to go to her first to fence anything extra we pick up. Basically for her assistance offer her right of first refusal on anything we find that isn't mission critical or that we don't want for ourselves. It's not an exclusive arrangement, but she gets first dibs. JT Jag fucked around with this message at 21:08 on Oct 3, 2016 |
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Oct 3, 2016 21:05
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JT Jag posted:Fury Praxis is extremely dangerous and her cartel is notoriously violent, but it seems significantly more professional than many of the other outfits on this station, and as far as I remember it doesn't seem to have much of a connection to slavery, the elimination of which is one of our long-term goals. So we could probably do worse than setting up a relationship with her.
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Oct 4, 2016 03:44
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that sounds good to me
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Oct 4, 2016 22:09
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Plan JT Jag The fact that we're being so cagey and diplomatic should tip her off that is one of kind haul we're planning.
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Oct 5, 2016 05:33
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 We need her on the hook,” you send silently to Vare's comm. Get any good bait while you were working for her? Vare's eyes shift over to you, and you sense a hesitation. A moment later, she seems to come to a decision, and gives a secret nod with her eyes. “If you want to beat Councilor Praxis to the punch,” she declares, “we're the crew to make that happen.” Praxis turns her eyes to Vare, an odd sort of look in her eyes. “Do explain, Djata,” she replies. “Meropus,” Vare lists, “Agrias, Mimon. Grid SD16. All those resource surveys. It's not about helicite. Praxis doesn't need to hire wildcatters on the sly just to pad their margins.” “You're not telling me anything new,” Fury replies, before casting her eyes over to you. “But perhaps I'm not the only audience?” “The planet is an ancient battleground,” Vare continues, speaking as much to you as to Praxis. “An Elder battleground. And there are remains.” You knew Vare hadn't told you everything about her work for Praxis, so you're not entirely surprised. You feel like her timing leaves something to be desired, however. Fury Praxis, on the other hand, simply gives a small go on with one hand. “Anything readily accessible,” Vare continues, “has been thoroughly...accessed already. The real prizes are in more, shall we say, hard to reach places? Separated from the chilly blue-blooded hands of Councilor Praxis by depth and local prohibition.” “Hence the sub,” Fury states. “Hence the sub,” you step in to confirm, pushing back your negative emotions behind a wall of even-tempered diplomatic aplomb. “And the need for a deniable asset to plumb Gigantes interdiction zones.” “Consider my interest piqued,” Fury admits. “But risk bringing this to me? From what I've seen of your crew, they have bones sufficient to neutralize the Helix Rippers. Why put your head in the lar-gast's mouth over this?” “We could find all the priceless relics on this dirty iceball,” you explain, “but the thing about priceless is, the very word itself precludes getting paid. And we do like to get paid.” “So if I understand,” Praxis muses, “I assist you in acquiring the assets needed for your operation, and provide a point of sale for relics thus acquired, and you...Acquire.” “That seems about the size of it,” you confirm. “You game, Praxis?”  "First selection of relics is worth a squad of Bar-Yen," she muses, "wouldn't you say, Gaff?"   "Think Praxis will come through on her end," you ask, as much to yourself as your crewmates. "If you're having doubts about the wisdom of going to Fury Praxis," Vare replies, "you're a bit late bringing them to the table." "She'll krumping deliver," Kamula growls. "A wealth of flaws that one has, but lack of follow-through isn't one." "You really need to explain what's between you and Fury one of these cycles, K," you say. "There has to be more to this story than She shot me with a missile." Vare stares. "She shot you with a missile? That seems...I don't know, significant?" "Sad old krumping tale," Kamula rasps impatiently, "but if--" Kamula is interrupted by an alert tone from Vare's scriv. At the same time, a message flashes across your visor and, from the look of things, Kamula's optics.  Before any of your crewmates can open their mouths, you're already hailing Voulge's frequency. You feel a pang of dread as the transmission resolves after only one tone. "We've got a problem," Voulge utters tersely, without preamble. "Deuce Rakanda has become aware of our operation, and he has elected to take a...proactive stance on the matter." You feel another stab in your gut, and quickly begin bringing up the comm frequencies of your absent teammates. "Where are you, Voulge," you demand. "You safe?" "Sealed in our office in the Plume Skate," Voulge replies, "and no. We counted twelve hostiles out on the main floor before we lost visuals. We've heard others roaming the upper corridors blazing down doors. Once they get to ours, it's only a matter of time before they burn through our bulkhead." "You strapped," growls Kamula. "Not as will make a difference. The Helix Rippers came strapped for war." You run a hand over your head and down your neck, smoothing anxious feathers. You take a deep breath, and click your foot talons against the deck. You reach out mentally, and feel a sudden wash of relief as Scuzzy comes back into range and your senses return. You awaken your other drones with a silent command. A cool competence descends around you like a mantle.  "Stay put," you order, "and stay integral. See if you can regain access to the security systems, but don't get yourself zeroed...We'll need you to guide us in when we get there." "Copy, Kore. Voulge out." Voulge doesn't wish you good luck, or tell you to hurry, or anything similarly out of character, which soothes your nerves by the barest of degrees. "K," you begin, "get the guns." "Which," the cyborg growls, looking up from checking his onboard weapons. 1. "All of them," you utter. "After that..." A. "Meet me at E-3 Transit...That's where we'll stage our push. The Skate promises to be a target-rich environment." B. "I need you to lock down our new sub while most of the Rippers are cloaca-deep and slick to slot." "And me," Vare asks, scrolling briskly through her scriv. "You getting the sitrep to our people," you ask, continuing as Vare nods. "Stay on that. Get us networked and toss me the flag. I need you outside monitoring comms traffic; official, civilian, ours, theirs if you can." Vare nods briskly, and you see her jaw working as she begins subvocalizing. 2. "Ramadi," you hail as the Raq tones into the squadlink... C. "Any Raq and any hardware you can spare, meet us at E-3 Transit to retake the Skate." D. "Get low until drokk ices down. Stay clear of the Skate, whatever else." E. "Forget the Skate. Hit the sub, instead." F. Something else... 3. "Tone," you move on... G. "If you're safe, stay that way. Heads down for the interim." H. "We've got as clear a shot on the sub as we're going to get; I need you in that cockpit." I. Something else... 4. "Poole," you continue... J. "Find a hole and stay in it until we lock this down." K. "Round up all the lighters and roughboys you can and meet us at E-3 Transit." L. "Round up all the lighters and roughboys you can and get us that sub." M. Something else... 5. Anyone else? N. Call in Fury Praxis to help seize the sub. O. Call in Fury Praxis to help retake the Skate. P. Call in Yngado to help seize the sub. Q. Call in Yngado to help retake the Skate. R. Someone else... "Nice dry-run for the new toys," Kamula rasps, "if nothing else."
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Oct 7, 2016 21:34
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A C H L Even odds that Fury tipped them off as a test. Or Midas is pulling a fast one on us.
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Oct 7, 2016 22:28
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BFHKN Let Ramadi know that Helix Ripper assets are prime for exploitative strikes as they're busy getting ready to be murdered to heck and back by us and our pals. Go ahead and raid their home turf for a change, it'd be great for everyone! Ramadi's people can snatch poo poo they need AND provide a reason for these assholes to get worried and back off. The deal with Praxis Fury was that she'd help grab the sub for us, so that seems like a good move to have her guys lock down it's egress until Kamula shows up to join them in sterilizing the place.
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Oct 8, 2016 03:01
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Blasphemaster posted:BFHKN
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Oct 8, 2016 04:28
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I'm down with Ravehitler's plan
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Oct 8, 2016 05:29
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Your Motes lurk in near invisibility around the exterior of the Pulse Skate, broadcasting a spherical grid to your overlay. You peer through the skein of glowing lines signifying various utility conduits, attempting to formulate your approach. Hearing the long sigh of compressed air heralding a new transit pod sliding into the terminal, you dismiss your visor and turn to take a look at the arrivals. It looks as though Midas has come through on his end, and you're immediately suspicious. The squad of fighters who accompany him to the staging area appears competent, well-geared, and professional, and not even a little bit high. You eye the mercs arrayed before you with a critical eye, looking for signs of weakness or incipient failure. You analyze mannerisms and bearing, scan weapons and armor, and stop just short of subjecting them to a tox-screen. Midas watches you, bemused, smoothing his barbels. "I can have them open their mouths so you can check their teeth, Kid," he offers. "Or you can believe me when I say that I've vetted this lot extensively." "It's awfully short notice to assemble a competent strike team," you comment. "I was expecting..." "You were expecting whatever I could sweep out of the gutter on my way here and stim into a semblance of readiness," he replies. "Which does me a disservice, Kid. You know I always have contingencies...You honestly want to tell me you don't have a few hitters in the pocket for indigent circumstances?" "So who do we have here," you change the subject. "This is VN-Cort," he gestures to the neuter Jurani in the lead, who nods curtly. "Late of the Hegemon's Hammer." "Why former," you inquire flatly. "You can ask those questions," Midas counters, "or we can launch this assault before everyone in the Skate is killed by pirates. Whichever." "Fine," you concede. "Give me the highlights."  "Next to Cort, that's Lleron," a slender Syssaki grins toothily. "Vaxo," a bulky synthorg rotates the barrels on his arm cannon. "Big Trant," a Yaguzi shifts the strap on his battle rifle aside to scratch an itch. "Little Trant," a seemingly identical Yaguzi idly rotates the ordnance on his belt. "and Navisar," the Rannusan tosses back her reflector-cape. "The one trying to make time with your drone there is Chief Beetrox." "Careful, Chief" you advise, "you're awfully close to the flamethrower."  "Seen a Crossbones in action," the Nodrokani whistles through his floppy snout. "From other side, though. Look forward to working with you, hm?" Do you trust Midas enough to go into a combat situation with these mercs? A. You're a bit starved for choice right now. It's just a risk you'll have to accept. B. Not even a little. Between you and your drones, you'll just have to carry this side of things.  Your acquisition of Ripper-related surveillance data has given you a number of leads to feed to Ramadi. While the pirates have no permanent base of operations on Thoon beyond their sub, there are a number of illicit business interests, operators, and facilities they frequent while on-station. You sent these along, along with carte blanche to make it hurt. "Your intel seems chel," comes Ramadi's voice over the squadlink. Through her video feed, you can see a team of ragged but determined Raq partisans closing in on a garishly-lit establishment deep in a squalid down-stack slum. Among the usual complement of spicers, indigents, and razored-up roughboys in the vicinity, you note that the average distribution of limbs seems way below average, which scans with what you've heard of this place: an alleged clinic that serves as an organ-harvesting racket. "We'll clamp down this chop-shop," declares Ramadi, "stick the Rippers whereabout it tingles, and score some prime-jet medico-swag in the doing." Any last directives? C."Don't worry about a low profile. Feel free to make enough noise up in that pile to make the Rippers feel it." D."Get it done and get out; you don't need your involvement getting around."  "K," you hail, flicking your view over to Kamula's. "You embedded with Fury's lot?" "Poz," the cyborg confirms, sweeping his gaze over the squad of Bar-Yen for your benefit. "Looks like token resistance inside. Ready to rough-slot a few qwags on your say-so." Any notes? E. "Let the moldies soak up most of the fire; they're good for it. You're running cleanup and making sure Tone stays integral." F. "Get in there and do your thing before they even know what end of the shiv is stuck in them. Let the Bar-Yen take care of stragglers and keep the perimeter secure." "And try not to scratch the paint," you comment, before bringing up your drone control interface. Crossbones is with you; this operation is very much its style. You've deployed your Motes in a rough spheroid cloud around the Skate. Scuzzy is... G Also with you; it's basically your third hand. H With Kamula, to make sure of things. I With Ramadi, in case of any surprises. Hardjack is... J Also with you. You may need it to render aid and defend hostages. K With Kamula, to keep Tone safe. L With Ramadi, just in case of trouble.
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Oct 10, 2016 22:37
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A C E H J A Midas doesn't have a prize to backstab us for yet. C The Raq need to be seen kicking rear end and taking names so people stop seeing them as easy prey. E It's why we got em. H Need some technical skill with the sub crew for booby traps and such. J Need some extra punch in droneapolooza.
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Oct 11, 2016 06:12
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Not Alex posted:A C E H J Sounds good to me.
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Oct 12, 2016 00:44
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Not Alex posted:A C E H J I'll go with this.
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Oct 16, 2016 15:32
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 You've been attempting to contact Voulge again, but it appears as though the Rippers are jamming transmissions in and out of the Skate. You idly run a palm over Hardjack's smooth bulwark, soothing your body as your fevered thoughts course swiftly through the pathways of your mind. The Plume Skate, while hardly a fortress, is sufficiently hardened against intrusion to make planning your offensive a challenge. Similarly, the Skate's virtual presence is locked down entirely. "The roof is possible," you nod to Cort's suggestion, "but I don't see any defenses up there, which unnerves me. The lack of snipers at least tells me that either they know enough about my capabilities not to bother, or the roof access is scrab-trapped nine ways to planetfall. Or both." "Most likely both," Midas chimes in. "You're not exactly discreet about displaying your capabilities, which is fine for building rep, but not so fine for staying alive long-term." "Helpful," you bite back. "There is, of course, the front door, which holds its own set of--" "We're barely getting you, Voulge, stand by.” You make a few adjustments; some quick compression and a noise gate on Voulge's signal renders it at least intelligible. " "What's your status, Voulge?" "Same as before, just "Help's on the way, but you need to tell me if there's another way into this dive." "There's a utility access, but it's not really meant for breathers. The oxy-antagonists it's flooded "Breathing gear's in my rooms," you comment, "beyond usefulness. Crossbones could make it through, but then it would be one drone behind enemy lines.” You click your talons thoughfully. “If we were to cut the power..." "Probably wouldn't make a difference," Cort interjects, "at least for the Rippers. Never known a Glyst-made to have a problem with the dark, and I've worked with a few." "I'm sure this lockdown is keeping all of Vrade's porn safe," you say, "but it's not doing me a whole lot of good. Voulge, can you get me into the security construct somehow?" "Not at this point," Voulge replies. "We cater to far too many clients like yourself to leave our data vulnerable. You'd have to physically link up with the response node in the security office on the second level." "Only a dozen or so murderous pirates entrenched between us and that," you comment. "challenge me a bit, will you?" Your tail whips with agitation, but inside your skull, a plan begins to form...   Those with the ability to do so polarize their optics, and the rest shelter their eyes as Chief Beetrox's breaching charge crumples the door in a great concussive whoomp that sucks the air out of the room and turns the world white. Hardjack, valves fully sealed, is first into the breach, pulser blasts splashing against its bulwarks even as the two Trants leap shrieking into the smoke and light. Your commandos pour after, grabbing cover where they may amidst the roar and glare of enemy fire. Tables, benches, and anything at hand become barricades, and frenzied pirates mantle the dead to rush their attackers.  At first, you attempt to keep track of all angles of the assault. You feel Crossbones reaching the end of the conduit, applying its cermet saw to the hatch lock. Through Scuzzy, you see Fury's Bar-Yen tangling with a cadre of longshoremechs and a heavily-armed pirate with a repulsorpack. You see Ramadi's Raq partisans storming the--  A spray of molten glass and vaporized ethanol seizes your attention with a certain undeniable insistence. A. Especially since you sent your micro-drone swarm along with Crossbones, to help deal with emergent circumstances. You've got your shield, but it will only go so far. B. You have your micro drones and your shield, but you'd like to avoid being shot, if at all possible. You chide yourself to tamp down your perfectionist tendencies and trust Kamula, Tone, and Ramadi to do their jobs, and Vare to coordinate them. It would be easy to become lost in analysis and a drone's eye, but similarly could you allow the tide of battle to envelop you wholly. You could instead attempting to ride the swell between, but that would take painstaking balance and concentration. At the end of the cycle, your success in this will be measured in how intact remains your hide. C. Emphasize meatspace operations. D. Strike a balance. E. Emphasize remote operations. F. [Nanosynthesis] Assume complete control. "Heads up," Vare breaks in. "Voulge says they're starting in on their door. You need to get up there." "You heard her," barks Cort, leaning out of cover to exchange fire with a Skaizen hybrid wielding four pulsers. "Trant, make us a hole!" Both Yaguzi screech with glee, each pulling a questionable custom-rigged concussion grenade from their belt. Prioritize the Following (Select as many as desired, in order of importance): G. Saving Voulge. H. Preserving the Plume Skate/Vrade's Stuff. I. Saving the Plume Skate's patrons J. Keeping yourself safe. K. Dealing damage. L. Drone operation. M. Preserving crewmates. N. Keeping Midas's mercs alive. Bee Bonk fucked around with this message at 18:33 on Oct 17, 2016 |
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Oct 17, 2016 16:14
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BCH Save our/the overboss's place and stuff. Get some more combat experience instead of relying completely on our drones.
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Oct 17, 2016 17:49
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The last choice is a multiple response option, reflecting the priority of your objectives. You can pick just one if you want, but I made a small edit to hopefully make that more clear.
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Oct 17, 2016 18:34
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B D J-M-G-L-N-K-I-H
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Oct 18, 2016 00:24
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NastyToes posted:B Sounds good. Nice balance of priorities.
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Oct 18, 2016 06:35
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