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Zoom. Enhance. Zoom. Music. Perhaps those more familiar with seafaring would find such a late mooring time in such awful weather somewhat horrifying, though most of you have little experience with at-sea operations save for the time you’ve spent with You Won't Believe This Housewife's Top Ten Recipes for Avoiding World War. She’s quick to reassure you that it’s fine. She has to raise her volume to be heard over the deafening strikes of rain against the steel hull. It's not particularly reassuring. “Pernabell Port Ops, Pernabell Port Ops, Pernabell Port Ops,” she chants with the kind of soothing clarity that only an AI could manage, “this is unflagged merchant vessel Eight-Victor standing by on channel one-four, over.” An anxious pause. “Eight-Victor, this is Pernabell Port Ops,” an aged Imperial voice responds. “Based on your late breakwater time and the inclement weather, recommend holding until the morning. Be advised there may be some trouble in town as well, over.” “Pernabell Port Ops, Eight-Victor, I am already in the harbor. I will perform an unassisted mooring and will require no assistance or pier services. Out.” She had a habit of moving very quickly when nobody was watching. A modern concrete pier bursts into view through solid curtains of rain. The only indicator of the ship’s rapid speed are jets of water shooting up along the beams. The power that You Won't Believe This Housewife's Top Ten Recipes for Avoiding World War must be hiding in her engineroom is unfathomable. Violent churning and bubbling makes it impossible to determine exactly how many bow thrusters and propulsors are down there. It was a mooring so precise and speedy that even the saltiest sailor would have felt obsolete. What use was there for an ancient trade when a chunk of sand could muscle a building-sized steel ship into position with millimeter accuracy in the deadliest sea state imaginable? Massive mechanical arms secure the ship in place. A metallic squeal signals the brow swinging into place. You watch from the safety of the shelter deck, though the heavy rain and fading light obscure much of the perfectly orchestrated action. An odd bunch - very obviously GKI personnel - scrambles up the brow and runs through the shelter deck. The green woman stops briefly to shout to Neon=Neon that she's a big fan before disappearing into the depths of the ship with the others, several ominous pelican cases in tow. A fourth marches through the open hatch, sopping wet and raving mad. " - think he'll come over here next? You're over a month late! If you had been here to extract these jackasses on time then none of this would have happened!" His violent hand gestures towards the overhead are the only indication that he's speaking with 8V until she summons up a starkly colored cubic avatar. It would grant him the courtesy of not appearing as a maniac to her passengers. "We're leaving right the gently caress now! Like, right now! He's going to wind up on this ship sooner or later, and it's going to end in a fight that we're not in shape to win. I don't care if - " "8R, need I remind you that I neither work for the company nor take orders from them despite being listed as the asset time nearest," she explains stoically despite his failure to stop yelling, "and I am under no obligation to depart on your orders. I will inform you shortly before - " The argument continues. The nosy can make out something about crypto gear and BTC and revenge before a second cubic avatar pops into existence next to the Seira. "Apologies. Might I suggest you register a team account on AP1, if you have not done so already? I think there may be some work in the very near future. I have taken the liberty of making a travel brief for Pernabell Bay available. If you have any questions, please ask or call me any time. Be advised: there is significant magical and electromagnetic interference in the area, and most services will not be reliable. You are free to disembark. Best of luck." Those fiddling on their chosen data devices get a notification from their AP1 app. [1 group(s) nearby: 🔥 💯 SKATES' ANGELS 💯 🔥] A second follows shortly. [New file available on Box of Holding: PernabellBayTravelGuide.ppt] ----------- Repost your sheets here for easy reference. Recruit thread. Setting docs.
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# ? Jul 8, 2017 12:17 |
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# ? Apr 19, 2024 03:20 |
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Ramified Soliloquyquote:Fighter level 2 quote:STARTING MOVES Shardix fucked around with this message at 06:43 on Dec 22, 2017 |
# ? Jul 8, 2017 15:56 |
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Ramified Soliloquy HP 25/25 | Armor 4 | Load 8/14 | XP 0/9 Ramified Soliloquy was a giant of a man and loading Neon=Neon's luggage onto the deck was quick enough work, despite how much of it there was. As he set down the crate of merchandise, he took a breather and stretched. It was good to finally be at their destination. Sea travel didn't bother him but the eight hundred nether gods and all the deviant diversions they amused themselves with could not make a boat trip interesting. Alas for modern technology, which had rendered naval piracy essentially extinct. Pulling out his phone, he hesitated as he recalled how to work it. Right. Touch screen. This, this, and bam. All the world's information at his fingertips. [New file available on Box of Holding: PernabellBayTravelGuide.ppt] He considered for a moment, sighed, and began the laborious process of finding out what a .ppt was and how you opened it.
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# ? Jul 8, 2017 15:57 |
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Jet Magnum Motherfuck, a briefing? This is the poo poo I came here to avoid! thinks Jet, rolling her eyes in time with the roll of the ship. "gently caress that," she declares, and stalks out into the world without taking a single glance at any more stupid briefings. It's time to go and make mistakes in a big way. She have done that aboard ship, but that would have been a little too suicidal even for her. quote:Name: Ginebra "Jet Magnum" Margarita De Arroyo Contreras Salerosa K Prime fucked around with this message at 00:45 on Dec 4, 2017 |
# ? Jul 8, 2017 18:40 |
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Zann Marat, Regional Director of Residual Humanoid Resources It really shouldn't be possible for someone with ceramic fingers to snap them at a hulking four-armed skeletal porter, but Zann manages it. Something remotely approximating a sigh escapes the lich as they descend to shore. "Ah, PotentiaPoint. No matter how far I get from the boardroom, I can't escape you." With a swift cracking of interlaced fingers (there must be speakers in there), Zann regards the promised land of corporate advancement and economic revolution. It's a bit rainy, to be quite honest. Someone had better cause a disaster post-haste. quote:Name: Zann Marat wiegieman fucked around with this message at 22:27 on Jan 28, 2018 |
# ? Jul 8, 2017 20:15 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d6 | Poise: 0/4 | Load: 5/6 | Currently: Stylish Neon=Neon slowly crests the stairs to the deck, wobbling slightly under the As they disappeared into the ship, she turned her attention to her fellow travelers and, more specifically, her rather imposing porter/bodyguard/violence-dispenser. He'd done an excellent job of wrangling all of her absolutely vital merchandise. How else would she amass enough funding to revenge herself upon the hateful L❤VELY? Clearly the best path to success was through renegade idol shows and giving the opportunity for her adoring public to trade their life savings for more high-quality audio recordings, body pillows, and t-shirts than any machine intelligence could possibly comprehend. Neon=Neon wormed her way up between Sol and his phone and watched his smartphone fumblings with something approximating great interest. After a few painful moments, she whispered, "Poke and hold! It'll just open on its own." The Princess posted:
Tricky fucked around with this message at 19:12 on Jan 19, 2018 |
# ? Jul 9, 2017 03:17 |
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Seira Blackwell "I assume we can change the account name later?" Seira asks the avatar, though doesn't bother to wait for an answer. Her personal assistant, a floating brass orb with glowing lines crossed on its surface in right angles, opens up an interface for the magician to type on. "Better a temporary name than none at all. Let's see... let's go with this." She puts down Insert Team Name Here, then sends the form back to API1. The e-mail confirmation might take a while. Wifi is awful here. "Begin personal log." The glowing lines on her PA switch from yellow to green for recording mode. "Current time and day is... I actually don't know. There was barely any light inside that dank ship, and all my devices have been desynced since the magnetic interference. Let's call this Landfall. Landfall, plus zero hours. Finally made it to Kolai. I didn't throw up on anyone, I'd say that's a personal achievement. We'll be beginning operations in Pernabell Bay soon. Hopefully the money here makes this worth it. I had to turn down another job offer this morning, GKI again. They needed able bodies to power a Soul Battery Plant in northern Fizenel. It sounded fine except that it paid exactly like my last job. Eh, no." Seira takes a step outside of the craft, takes a good look at the Bay, then shakes her head. What is this dump?
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# ? Jul 9, 2017 08:38 |
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Jet Magnum is soaked to the bone moments after leaving the shelter deck, though that hardly impedes her march down the pier. There's not much to look at, even with only about 50 meters worth of visibility: a couple shore power bunkers and risers dot the otherwise featureless concrete area, while the dark shadow of a cargo crane looms just out of sight. The facility is pristine, though there's a stark lack of shipping containers and the whole area seems to be poorly lit. The occasional striped arrow directs her towards the security gate, which is open and leads to an empty street. On the corner is a small shack with some cheap yellow signage reading TAXI posted above a walk-up window. With Neon's help, Sol's phone succeeds in opening the file. They swipe through a few colorful, if poorly produced, title slides indicating that the file was originally used for a CDC liberty port brief. The first informative slide is fairly dry and obviously screencapped: pre:Kolai / Ailai Historical Weather Data: Avg. Yearly Precipitation: 2990 mm Avg. Precipitation Days: 255.6 (>2 mm) [BotNote: Bring your rain gear!] Avg. Monthly Sunshine Hours: 2042.4 Avg. Max Temp.: 30.4 C Avg. Min Temp.: 20.2 C Temperature Distribution Type: Tropical, Flat. Consistent year-round. Geology Type: Island. Uplift / Volcanic Mix. AP1 defies Seira's expectations by returning a confirmation text in seconds: [Insert Team Name Here (#0077) registered successfully!] Seems you weren't the only one with that idea. Good thing that team names aren't required to be unique. " - not going to work! Look, these guys are adventurers, right? Hey! Hey, you!" The cat man points to Seira, stomping out into the rain after her. "Hey, I'll give you everything I've got in my G wallet and a couple of rep if you can kill this rear end in a top hat." An image projects from his open palm, the raindrops causing it to shimmy unsteadily. He flips through a holographic UI in his other hand. "That's like, 12 thousand G and six @GKI rep. Just hear me out," he holds up both hands apologetically, "I know that's anemic by your guys standards and all, but GKI doesn't give me cash reserves to work with. I gotta scrounge it all up myself. It's just him and a couple of Betsy lackies, right? Easy money."
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# ? Jul 9, 2017 10:30 |
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Seira Blackwell Well. That was fast. "End log." Seira takes off her poofy witch hat, while her PA generates a miniature field over her head to deflect. "Betsy grunts, you say? Sir, I could kill them and that man by myself, and it'd be my pleasure. But you have to admit that much pittance for a hit isn't very respectful. And given you're hiring people who just got off the boat, so to speak, it sounds like you don't have a lot of options in the first place." A bit of Seira's old work involves fixing projectors in meeting rooms while people ignore her and make shady deals in hushed whispers. She can smell desperation. "You're GKI, right? We're looking for a long-term adventuring presence in this region. If you can help us in that regard - accommodations, networking, transportation, whatever - yes, consider him dead." I'm rolling with Sellsword to make an additional demand from my potential employer. Mitama fucked around with this message at 16:38 on Jul 9, 2017 |
# ? Jul 9, 2017 13:14 |
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He groans and shakes his head. His face twists into a pained expression as he watches 8V lower a truck onto the pier with one of her cranes. "I mean..." He sighs, swiping back to AP1 to ready the escrow. "Sure. Yeah, you got a deal. After it's done."
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# ? Jul 9, 2017 13:26 |
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Jet Magnum The rain slides off mineral-oiled cyborg parts as Jet evaluates her new digs. "Man, what a loving dump. Looks too much like home." The sound of impending violence for profit pulls her from her brief reverie. "That's cheap, but I'll do it if I get to keep his hat," says Jet, peering at the picture. "Why you want him dead though?" K Prime fucked around with this message at 16:27 on Jul 9, 2017 |
# ? Jul 9, 2017 16:25 |
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Ramified Soliloquy HP 25/25 | Armor 4 | Load 8/14 | XP 0/9 "...Thank you." It wasn't that he was annoyed at Neon. He just hated people realizing how ignorant he was when it came to this sort of thing. Especially a classy lady like her. She was probably used to having a secretary at her side who'd have had all the arrangements made before they even finished docking. Limo, hotel reservations, dinner, and entertainment scheduled for every night of the week. Probably a private masseuse on top of it. Oh well. She wasn't complaining about it, so he assumed the young lady was more or less fine with things as they were. It was actually kind of a relief to know she wasn't a prima donna. He was wise enough to know it was rarely a good idea to meet your heroes. As he mused on this, the half-heard conversation between the ship and the crew that had just boarded percolated slowly through his head. Probably wasn't any of his business, but he was also a business minded man. And getting work was five percent patience and ninety-five percent putting yourself out there and making it known you made problems go away. He raised his head, cleared his throat, and addressed the AI. So far as he knew, You Won't Believe This Housewife's Top Ten Recipes for Avoiding World War could tell when she was being specifically addressed just by analyzing his vocal inflections and probably numerous other methods he couldn't begin to fathom. She was like a very intimidating aunt who could see right through you. Her being an AI still left him uneasy but he had also been raised to be polite and respectful, especially to ladies. Men were the expendable gender in the tribes, after all. "Madam. I am very grateful for the smooth trip. Please advise us if you have any need of our services in the future."
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# ? Jul 9, 2017 21:37 |
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HP: 16/16 | Armor: 2 | Damage: d8 | Charge: ◇◇◇ | Load: 9/10 | XP: 0/9 "I know we're a bit hard up, but hard up enough for contract killing from random strangers?" Behold the Fires of Industry Pascale walks up out of the rain behind Seira and Jet, holding what looks like a glowing umbrella handle with no umbrella in one hand. The lack of a canopy doesn't seem to be a problem, since the raindrops are getting stopped a few inches above Behold's head anyways. "No offense," she adds brightly to the man attempting to secure murder-for-hire. Behold was making some minor repairs to You Won't Believe This Housewife's Top Ten Recipes for Avoiding World War's systems and had disconnected the comm panel in the hold while she was doing it, so missed the port call. "Cixi always said she loved the rain, but this is a bit much," she adds, looking around. Rolled 11 on A Lover In Every Port so there’s an old flame of mine who is willing to assist us somehow. Cixi Redhand runs an independent marine salvage and survey company. Also we totally need a cool party name. Character Sheet posted:
Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at 15:42 on Jan 22, 2018 |
# ? Jul 9, 2017 22:00 |
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Seira Blackwell "I'm not saying we can't do better. But there's no reason not to do this one if it's worth the time." Seira shrugs. "Besides, isn't this part of the the adventurer thing? Being all extremely sexy, risking through dangerous places, hunting bounties, and murdering a corporate office or two while they're at it. Maybe driving some of the survivors into unemployment and crushing debts." Seira doesn't sound bitter from previous events at all. Mitama fucked around with this message at 00:22 on Jul 10, 2017 |
# ? Jul 10, 2017 00:20 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d6 | Poise: 0/4 | Load: 5/6 | XP: 1/9 | Currently: Stylish Neon=Neon beamed at Sol, "You're welcome, Ram☆if☆ied!" It was always a solid plan to treat your employees well. If they liked you, they didn't try to murder you with planar rifts. Or, in Sol's case, that wicked bat of his. She'd much rather have him put that to good use stopping the so-called lethal flora and fauna from getting too close. After a few moments more perusing the powerpoint, she slipped away and wandered over to the group discussing murder for hire. Neon=Neon looked closely at the cat man, then Behold and Seira, "I don't know, maybe we are!" She paused, then shook her coin pouch for effect. The sad clink of coins matched her exaggerated expression. "I mean, it doesn't look like he has good taste in music. And that hat!" Neon=Neon took a second, longer look at the man offering them the job. He was shady, sure, but was he shady shady? And what was the going coin-to-G rate these days, anyways? quote:SidekickBOT - Today at 4:04 PM Tricky fucked around with this message at 04:37 on Jul 10, 2017 |
# ? Jul 10, 2017 00:23 |
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Jet Magnum "Murdering a corporate office is my idea of a good time," shouts Jet, slapping Seira on the back in what is probably supposed to be a friendly way. "It does help to know why you're doing it. Even if it's just 'corps are bastards who all deserve it, ha!"
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 00:55 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 0 | Damage: d4 | Load: 4/6 | XP: 0/9 Undead Servants: Chauncey, Gigantic Multi-Armed Porter| Stats: +3 STR, +2 CON/DEX, +1 INT/WIS/CHA | HP: 12/12 | Armor: 2 | DMG: +4 Zann practically beams at the news of their impromptu deal. You know, as much as someone without eyes can beam. "Oh, my first adventuring trip and already a contract killing! Come along, Chauncey. Places to be, materials to collect." wiegieman fucked around with this message at 03:49 on Jul 10, 2017 |
# ? Jul 10, 2017 01:06 |
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"First the dude shows up on island, drat near kills two of our surveyors - one of them's still waiting on her replacement body - and tries to steal a bunch of data. I mean, he failed the first time, but now he's back with a lot more firepower than I think any reasonable person would authorize. Probably rogue ops," he explains to Jet, "but what do I know? Well, one thing I do know is that random strangers are just asking to get killed when they take a bunch of kids hostage at a children's day festival concert and try to take over an entire island." Neon gets the impression that this whole story's a little bit out there, but hey, if everything's getting handled through AP1 then at least the money's guaranteed. "Of course. Think nothing of it," 8V responds to Sol. "I'll be sure to keep you in mind." Chauncey acknowledges with a gutteral ough and waddles after Zann.
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 01:15 |
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Ramified Soliloquy HP 25/25 | Armor 4 | Load 8/14 | XP 0/9 Sol noticed the group engaged in conversation with somebody and mosied his way over. "...Do you think that AI is actually married, or is the name just an affectation?" He paused, noting the atmosphere and a passing mention of a contract killing. "Work already?
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 03:26 |
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HP: 16/16 | Armor: 2 | Damage: d8 | Charge: ◇◇◇ | Load: 9/10 | XP: 0/9 "She is! To an orbital monitoring station, I can't remember the name... Something like the The Dozing Eye is Never Watchful. Maybe I have that backwards... anyways, the housewife part is a bit of a stretch but she says its because she takes her house with her wherever she goes." Behold explains, poking at some controls on her not-umbrella. The field expands to cover the group now that everyone has come over, though the device is starting to emit a disconcerting hum. "Oh, those are pretty good reasons," Behold says after the man lists off the target's offenses. "Yeah, I'm okay with this." Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at 01:41 on Jul 11, 2017 |
# ? Jul 10, 2017 03:41 |
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Seira is pretty sure she heard a crunch when Jet slapped her back. Her PA already runs a medical diagnostic. "All in agreement? Then let's get paid." She looks at the truck that 8V just finished lowering down, then at the cat boy. "Is that yours?"
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 03:57 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d6 | Poise: 0/4 | Load: 5/6 | XP: 1/9 | Currently: Stylish Neon=Neon looks contemplative for a brief moment, faintly feeling that something is amiss with the man's story, then pulls out her own phone and grins widely, "Heck yeah! 6 @Rep will finish up my weekly and rank~ me~ up~. Anyone know what the reward is for GKI Rank 2? It's gotta be good!"
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 04:43 |
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He fishes a set of keys out of his pockets and tosses them to Seira. "Yours now. Not intended for six, but the suspension will handle it fine. I'd have preferred to give you the one that it was supposed to replace, but somebody got it lodged ten stories up a highrise on the way over. Please try to bring it back in one piece. Shipping's expensive here." An alert pops up on everyone's devices: [ Vulture Capitalists: Escrow available for liberate pernabell ]. The cat collapses his UI and makes his way towards the shelter deck. "The ranks are made up. They're just for achievement hoarders. I mean, rep is made up too, but I guess we've all fooled ourselves into thinking it's like money, right?" Upon closer inspection, the truck exceeds your expectations for a free ride. The lack of doors is inconvenient and the interior isn't terribly comfortable, but the rally-grade craftsmanship will surely prove useful. Title music. The monstrously powerful engine roars above the storm, though whoever's driving can't very well test its limits in these conditions. The combination of slick roads and hundred meter visibility make it unfeasible to go above average residential speeds. Even with slow going, those riding in the back find the heavy droplets to sting rather badly. The street winds up a hill until it reaches a grid of shining glass skyscrapers, the tops towering just out of sight. The roads are utterly abandoned and there's little sign of life save for the occasional tattered festival banner whipping in the wind. The truck's headlights are the only source of light; the street lights and stoplights are unlit, indicating a widespread power outage. An uneasy quiet permeates everything. There's nothing to see save for wet cement, rain, and reflective road markers. Wait, is that a sword sticking out of the concrete? And there's another one. It falls over. It drags along the ground through the middle of an intersection, pulled to your right by an unknown force.
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 07:38 |
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HP 25/25 | Armor 4 | Load 8/14 | XP 0/9 Sol hauled himself into the back of the truck and settled himself down. Not enough room to cram everybody inside with his bulk eating up a majority of space. In any case, a little water wasn't going to bother him. It would slide right off his gear, and he found the sound of rain drumming on his helmet rather relaxing. As the truck kicked into gear, he turned and slid open the back window. "I missed most of that. What's the job?" He trailed off as he saw the blade being dragged along by an unseen force. His helmet turned minutely to bring it fully into view. Black spirits? Might be, and him without a worm speaker to bind them to this world where he could strike them down. He gripped the handle of his weapon in a gloved hand and waited, and watched. He was trained for this at least. Taking in a scene, accumulating and collating the peripheral senses and information and applying them in context to the primary focus. So much could be gleaned by body language, and even the lack thereof. The terrain, the weather, a thousand different details that could give away a clue as to what lay in store. Sometimes it was easier than this, of course. Like when a woman hefted a frying pan and narrowed her eyes. You didn't need the small details to figure that one out. Discern Realities: @Shardix: 2d6+1 = (4+2)+1 = 7 What is about to happen? Shardix fucked around with this message at 18:25 on Jul 10, 2017 |
# ? Jul 10, 2017 17:27 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 0 | Damage: d4 | Load: 4/6 | XP: 0/9 Undead Servants: Chauncey, Gigantic Multi-Armed Porter| Stats: +3 STR, +2 CON/DEX, +1 INT/WIS/CHA | HP: 12/12 | Armor: 2 | DMG: +4 Marvelous! Transportation included. Although.. "Do any of you know how to drive? I haven't traveled much since internal combustion was invented. In the bed, Chauncey, there's a good fellow." And what have we here? Some form of localized telekinetic disturbance, a perished swordmaster perhaps? Or a preemptive attack? quote:SidekickBOT - Today at 9:47 AM
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 17:49 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d6 | Poise: 0/4 | Load: 5/6 | XP: 1/9 | Currently: Stylish For a moment, Neon=Neon looks horrified, "There's... no rewards? It's just made up?" Her eyes catch the beefy frame of the truck and the horror fades, replaced by a dangerous glimmer in her eyes. "I'm gonna drive! Dibs! Called it!" ... Moments later, she hums happily in the driver's seat while the rain beats a staccato pattern on the windshield. It's not as fun as going extremely fast, but it is still quite excellent. And she was inside! That rain looks nasty. Of course, it wasn't long before the swords in the road brought everything to a halt. Neon=Neon looks over at Zann, "Do you think it has to do with that hat guy? He doesn't really look like the sword type, if you know what I mean~."
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# ? Jul 10, 2017 17:54 |
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HP: 24/24 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d10 | Load: 5/9 | XP: 0/9 "Eh, who cares. It ain't moving very fast, so-" Jet hops out of the back, where she's been lounging. Rain drips from every inch of her, but she doesn't appear to notice, care, or even bother to remember that weather is a thing. "I call dibs on the free sword!" K Prime fucked around with this message at 23:42 on Jul 10, 2017 |
# ? Jul 10, 2017 23:39 |
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HP: 16/16 | Armor: 2 | Damage: d8 | Charge: ◇◇◇ | Load: 9/10 | XP: 0/9 Behold was too slow to get the keys, but she does manage to secure the shotgun seat. She looks the vehicle over and pokes at a few components as she climbs in. "Not bad. I can do some serious upgrades on this." She leans into the back seat to pass the umbrella field to Sol. "Let's roll!" -------------------------- It take's a second for Behold to reply to Neon's comment, since she's watching the sword dragging across the ground with a bemused expression. "He probably has some backup, or minions, or mercenaries, or whatever." "I think we should-" whatever she was going to suggest gets cut off when Jet hops out. "Hey! Jet, hold up!" She pulls herself out of the truck to follow the other cyborg.
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# ? Jul 11, 2017 01:41 |
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Seira plans to stay inside the truck and avoid the rain unless that sword contains untold secrets and magic. Or leads them into a trap. Whichever. She can focus on more important things first. "Oh, Miss Neon=Neon." Seira opens the window to reach for her PA, just floating outside, so she can pull something from it's infinite, technomagical body. It's a pair of CD albums! "I never found the chance to ask in that ship, but I was wondering if you could sign these for me?"
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# ? Jul 11, 2017 02:30 |
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Sol notes the similar theme between objects and the autonomous manner in which they operate. This was Crag Wyrm witchcraft, or some closely related Pavellan style of magic at a minimum. Zann independently arrives at a similar conclusion, but additionally detects a large electric field emanating from the direction that the swords were travelling. This looked to be more of a recovery from something or a defensive measure than part of an attack. Jet has no problem picking up the sword, though she continues to feel a faint tug leading her down the street. Neon drives at a walking pace until she finds her path blocked by a row of brushed metal vehicle barriers extending across the street, marking the start of a spacious paved park area. The truck lights reflect off rows of chaotically scattered folding chairs and the remnants of a struggle. A few dozen swords pick up speed as they skitter past you and into the darkness. The team can briefly make out a shower of sparks in the distance. Zann: You know that there's a large electrical source coming up and that it's likely the motive force behind the weird sword gathering going on. One way to stop it might be to get a large enough conductor in contact with it. Also, it's most likely not aligned with the invading forces. Atlatl fucked around with this message at 14:44 on Jul 11, 2017 |
# ? Jul 11, 2017 03:14 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d6 | Poise: 0/4 | Load: 5/6 | XP: 1/9 | Currently: Stylish Neon=Neon looks upon Seira with new heights of appreciation, "Of course~!☆ Anything for a fan-slash-fellow-adventurer~!☆" She snaps her fingers and several odd, neon constructs erupt into existence. Neon=Neon considers the constructs for a moment, then grabs a relatively pen-shaped one. A quick scrawl ensues and soon Seira's albums are graced with Neon=Neon's eye-searing neon signature. The constructs, apparently realizing that was all she had wanted, fade back out. Looking out at the barrier, Neon=Neon sighs, "I guess this as far as we're driving? Ohhhhhhh well." She turns the truck off and, after a brief moment to draw her cloak up tight and crank the environment rejection field to max, hops out of the vehicle. The neon lights of her cloak play oddly over the scattered debris and the falling rain, all but making the scene some sort of sweet, sweet idol rave. She looks over to Sol and adds, "C'mon! Let's find the weird sword thing and beat up the hat guy. Gotta get paid~!"
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# ? Jul 11, 2017 14:30 |
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HP: 24/24 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d10 | Load: 5/9 | XP: 0/9 "Sweet, free sword! Now... is there a fight I can use it in?" asks Jet, rhetorically. "Lead the way, long sword, hahaha!" She balances it on her fingertips, allowing it to rotate into what she would call a "death metal compass," and happily follows the blade wave down the street. Today couldn't be going better already.
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# ? Jul 11, 2017 16:21 |
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...is she punctuating with stars? Seira opens her mouth to ask, but immediately reconsiders. She takes back the albums with a smile and gets back to the job at hand. "This all seems like a lot of nonsense." The mage says, stepping out of the truck. Her PA gobbles up the lovingly-signed albums back to its infinite internal storage and reactivates the personal barrier against the rain. "But I assume those sparks are where we want to go."
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# ? Jul 11, 2017 16:37 |
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HP 25/25 | Armor 4 | Load 8/14 | XP 0/9 Sol hauled himself out of the truck bed and hefted his bat and shield. He watched Jet warily, not trusting the sword one bit. At Neon's words, he nodded to her and Seira and followed after Jet. "Be on your guard. I smell Crag Wyrm sorcery about this. And if it is indeed a witch, she'll not be pleased to see me. Our tribes bear little love for one another. Zann. Behold. If it is indeed magery and either of you have means to counter it, I'll run interference for you."
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# ? Jul 11, 2017 23:47 |
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HP: 18/18 | Armor: 0 | Damage: d4 | Load: 4/6 | XP: 0/9 Undead Servants: Chauncey, Gigantic Multi-Armed Porter| Stats: +3 STR, +2 CON/DEX, +1 INT/WIS/CHA | HP: 12/12 | Armor: 2 | DMG: +4 Zann's fingers sound another of those clicks in the hulking skeleton's direction as the lich's ceramic feet slap down on the street surface, prompting it to follow. "You know what I don't miss about being alive? Besides sleep, hunger, aging, all of that? Knees. Dreadful things for going up and down, wear out in a less than a century. I don't know how you all manage." The lich's head swivels towards Sol when he names a witch as the culprit. "Really? I caught the whiff of something more... electromagnetic. My mobility frame actually has quite the sophisticated sensor suite. Do these Crag Wyrms often throw off lighting when doing their work? Regardless, we seems to be coming up on the aftermath of something, rather than the preparation. I'll have Chauncey keep an eye out for something we can use as a grounding rod, won't you Chauncey?"
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# ? Jul 12, 2017 00:04 |
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The tug from Jet Magnum's new sword grows stronger until it's practically dragging her through rows of folding chairs and into the darkness. Another shower of sparks, this time closer. You can make out something that sounds like frustrated growling and a rhythmic tapping sound. "You Betsy fucks back for more?" An animalistic roar echoes in the courtyard as hundreds of multicolored lights flicker to life, revealing precariously hanging scaffolding and several downed powerlines. A continuous fountain of sparks streams out of a breaker panel with several long blades lodged in it, though it looks more like a pyrotechnics display in the light of the rhythmically flashing blue and pink panels. A solid wall of swords rotates slowly in the center of the stage, parting just briefly enough for you to catch a glimpse of a woman kneeling beside a pile of cabling, clutching her eyes with one bloody hand. FIGHT MUSIC Her voice is projected by the stage's many amplifier stacks. "Well lucky you, 'cause I got more!" The lights swing to point you, their intensity and brightness rapidly rising. A deafening feedback squeal screams from the speakers, and the folding chairs begin tumbling wildly in much the same manner as the blades you spotted earlier. Speaking of blades, a few are haphazardly lobbed in your general direction, while others tumble around, hidden amongst the chairs. Everybody roll to Defy Danger, as you're essentially getting flashbanged by the stage and having to deal with a wild obstacle course. For now, any time you try to close range, you have to Defy Danger again. Neon: There's something familiar about the voice, but you can't quite put your finger on it. Maybe you could figure it out if you got a little closer or could get a better look.
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# ? Jul 12, 2017 12:02 |
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HP 25/25 | Armor 4 | Load 8/14 | XP 0/9 "Throw lightning? Depends on how angry they are." He wasn't sure he liked the lich's tone. People got it in their heads that people like him were just a bunch of inbred degenerates baffled by concepts like bathing or math. ...But perhaps there was some merit its suggestion of electromagnets, Sol mused as the stage, woman and cabling came into view. As she hurled invective and blades towards them, Sol raised his shield and braced himself for the impact. He just had to trust his helmet would polarize properly as the lights speared across the group. Defy Danger...by Enduring (+Con): @Shardix: 2d6+1 = (4+3)+1 = 8 This woman really didn't sound like any Crag Wyrm he'd ever met. Betsy Fucks was a new one to him.
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# ? Jul 12, 2017 12:46 |
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Sol is successful in averting his eyes, and feels little save for a couple of impacts against his shield. Looks like there's a sword and a few folding chairs stuck on it, though. Dex rolls are at -1 until you take the time to clear them off! In between flashes of light, Zann can count three bodies tumbling around in the debris field. They look to be some variety of armed soldier.
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# ? Jul 12, 2017 13:04 |
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HP: 12/12 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d8 | Load: 4/8 | XP: 0/9 [8:16 PM] BOTSidekick: @Mitama: 2d6+2 = (3+1)+2 = 6. Atlatl says I get bonked for 1 damage, blocked by armor. "Tch." Seira doesn't avert her eyes on time. In a flash, everything turns white. And painful. Something like the hilt of a sword smacks her head a bit. "Annabelle, defensive mode." The brass orb now orbits around Seira, projecting the defensive field around her whole body. "Identify this woman, make a record of all compensatory damage inflicted upon me and my party, and send a notice after we beat her to paste." [8:48 PM] BOTSidekick: @Mitama: 2d6+1 Discern realities = (4+1)+1 = 6
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# ? Jul 12, 2017 13:49 |
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# ? Apr 19, 2024 03:20 |
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HP: 14/18 | Armor: 1 | Damage: d8 | Poise: 3/5 | Load: 5/6 | XP: 2/9 | Currently: Stylish, Regal As the woman kicks the nightmare concert into full gear, Neon=Neon is struck by the uncanny style and aesthetic. It was very fresh. Maybe it was something that she could incorporate into her next tour...? Of course, with her attention consumed by those thoughts, her attempts to twist out of the way of flying objects fail and she's literally struck as well. A well placed folding chair knocks her head over heels onto the floor, where she lies still for a few moments. quote:SidekickBOT - Today at 5:48 AM Suddenly, between flashes, she disappears from the floor. Her absence, surely felt by literally everyone involved, stretches on for several moments. Finally, just when it seemed that the world itself couldn't bear her absence any longer, her silhouette appears on the far side of the runway. The eye-searing neon of her constructs battles with the strobing lights for attention, but how could anything possibly rival her in that? Suborning the strobes into the service her own show, Neon=Neon strikes several poses between flashes, then confidently stalks towards the stage. Fully clad in her idol gear, she seems to be unstoppable. Swords and chairs and other assorted debris are no obstacle to Neon=Neon as she dances her way through the storm. As she closes in on the mysterious — yet familiar? — woman, Neon levels her sound amp at her and projects, "♫ Let's! Get! ! ♫" Of course, now that she was closer, she had a much better idea of who belonged to that voice... quote:SidekickBOT - Today at 5:52 AM
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# ? Jul 12, 2017 15:16 |