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NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround

Alex

"Oh- well, good. I'm sorry I asked but there have been, well, incidents. It's just the things we saw at the last few bases. They made an impression and it's easier to be blunt about these sorts of things. My apologies. At any rate, if it can help find a treatment, we'll try to help you out. It'll likely be mostly Allison, that's her wheelhouse." Alex turns to Dean. "I suppose it's lucky we have the offspring of a few deities ourselves. They certainly got around. And we have Hobbs."

Catching the last bit, she leans forward in interest. "Again? Any pointers?"

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Ambivalent
Oct 14, 2006



Allison

She drifts out of the conversation for a bit, eyes lingering on Hammerson for a moment, maybe too long. Long enough for her mouth to dry. She claws her attention back to the conversation, answering Alex, "The trick is not to fear it. Or something." She laughs a little at her own joke, "Isn't that right?" Her eyes hone in on Dean and his man.

"Either way, the plan seems sound enough. Which is to say, at least it is a plan."

Oracle
Oct 9, 2004



Jennifer

She smiles at the wolf and slaps his neck in what passes as a friendly pat for a giant mythological unkillable being, turning when she hears Martin's voice, smile widening into a grin as she sees 'her' boys geared up and her heart soars. "Of course," she echoes, then shoots Fenrir a sour look. "Oh... just... shut up and eat your waffle."

She turns her attention back to the einherjar. "So you know the objective? Clear a path to this base, requisition some flotation devices, and get out without losing anybody." She gives Martin a warning look. "No heroics. Right?"

Oracle fucked around with this message at Apr 19, 2019 around 21:07

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

"Do you think you can cure them? This isn't something natural. Its not the flu. At least that's how I see it. There's something unnatural about the people who are infected." He paused. "Or am I wrong? I ain't no scientist, just seen a lot of poo poo. And its hard to think there could be a cure."

GaistHeidegger
May 20, 2001

"Can you see?"


Blackbird Dreaming

Dean breathes a terse sigh as he fixes Burkhart with a lingering look before turning his attention to Alex and Allison. “This class of entity is often tied to remnants of belief base which can make them difficult to put down. We’re taking a large supply of specialty ordinance to assist with the ‘discovery’ process.” The man’s jaw sets. “However, this won’t be the first time a strike attempt has been made on our target—we’re going to be banking on the difference newly discovered talent and our recently reinstated ‘goddess’ makes.”

With Hobbs, Dr. Spears nods. “We have a significant sample size of contagion-free water now, along with… alternative medical techniques.” A glance is cast towards Jennifer with this, albeit briefly. “Dean’s team aren’t the only talented individuals among this outing.”

~

“No heroics.” Martin repeats, straightening to attention and throwing a smart salute before returning to ease. “You should see the weapons they are bringing.” He whistles for emphasis, shaking his head. “I believe that if boogie men decide to appear, they will regret it.”

~

A few long tones sound as announcements echo over the loading platform. Myriad men and women have boarded the train cars, with daylight streaming down from the facility’s egress further on. Seating is available in nominal sections, making it apparent that the cars had been used for transporting large numbers of individuals at some point—but upon closer scrutiny, even the passenger cars seem to boast protective plating and reinforcement measures.

Steel slats shutter angularly over the windows of the cars, with firing ports arranged intermittently on either side; both elements appear to be newer additions and refitting for the cars, no doubt necessary after unexpected hurdles prompted further unexpected security additions—with the exception of the engine. Heavily armored and sporting a sizable plow and turret, the train’s engine seems aptly prepared for more spirited obstacles in transit.

Dean’s team takes to one of the passenger cars nearer to the rear of the train, with a half dozen cargo cars in between; palettes of munitions have been prepped and stowed, with a detachment of more than twenty uniformed soldiers and half as many field engineers on board. The entourage is further joined by several members of the research division and a full staff accompaniment of medical personnel.

Slowly, the transport stirs and shifts—before gradually picking up momentum, its mission underway.

Oracle
Oct 9, 2004



Jennifer

She clambers up the side of the Fimbrulwulf, using tufts of wiry hair as handholds, and takes a seat just behind the fury behemoth's head. Looking down at Martin, she nods to the others, then glances at the train. "Keep an eye out. They'll need marksmen at the speed we're going to be traveling I have a feeling. Good luck." Leaning down, she murmurs in one large flicking tulip-shaped ear, "How does the scourge of the nine realms feel about racing a train?" Grinning, she doesn't even wait for an answer, winding her fingers in his hair and clinging with her knees as she wistfully thinks of similar four-legged beastie, whereabouts unknown. Oh Coyote, I hope this isn't the one mess you haven't figured out a way to wiggle out of.

"Let's go!" she shouts at the wolf, aiming him with pressure from her legs towards the tracks. An M16 hanging across her chest jostles with the sudden movement.

Gonna ride on ahead and try to intercept any hostiles that are feelin' froggy.

Ambivalent
Oct 14, 2006



Allison

Dean’s answer seems to satisfy her. So he has some idea of how all this works. More than she’d given him credit for. Her mistake. She wipes the amusement off her face and agrees with their words, digesting as much of the real planning from actual soldiers as she can in what little time they have left.

~

A woman’s pale hand - strong, gentle - reaches out from a blinding light, grasping out for her, reaching into blackness. Grab it. A familiar voice. Grab it? Her own voice. Grabit.Gr bitgrabit GRAB itgra t. Those voices, familiar to. But not. Echoing and driving. Warped and diminutive little chorus.

Allison reaches out to take the hand - that cold, weirdly comforting hand. o psoopsoops. Her hand is no longer hers - but it is? Isn’t. Is. It clenches tight, she digs her nails into the helping hand. d n’t know shouldn't have Her hand burns, her wrist is in flames enflamed, heat and swelling, bursting, infected. Ink weeps from her cuticles, pulses beneath her flesh, not Coyote’s spidery tongue - fat swells instead, bulging tumorously. car eitc rveitCARVEit. It lashes and crawls across her grip, tearing at the cold pale hand, shredding it, exposing meat and fat beneath, spitting blood. The hand’s grip stays strong, seizing. Then convulsing. Seizing, even as the ink tears it apart, strip by strip, the only sound the wet peeling.

Familiar voice again. No time for that now. Her own voice? The weeping fingers and burning flesh abate, the ink pulling tight into neat, tight little spidery writing again, that comfortable sleeve on her arm. There is no cold hand anymore, nothing above. Just herself.

That voice, her ?own? voice speaks to her again.

See yoµ± s°oñ.

~

Ow. She touches her lip where she’d bit it - no blood, but still. Ow. Irritably, she rubs at her eye and stirs alert, seated comfy on the train - comfy as she can, anyway, using a ballistic vest as a seat cushion, a bundled canvas as an armrest.

She peers out the slats of the passenger car, watching Jennifer astride the great wolf outside the train, clicking her tongue, “And they accuse me of being dramatic.” Allison waves a tiny salute to Martin as he boards the train, reclining. “No room on the wolf?” Relative to the soldiers marching about, her preparation is more meditative, relaxing. Taming her splitting headache, the angry chattering and everything else. So she lounges for now, resting for the end of the tracks.

Ambivalent fucked around with this message at Apr 23, 2019 around 12:17

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

He didn't like the idea of Jennifer just riding out ahead of the train, even if she was riding a mythological killing machine. However he wasn't going to tell her not to do it. And there was no telling if the wolf would want to get on the train in the first place. Its a reckless move, he thought to himself, but he had to assume that the wolf would protect her. He couldn't bring himself to trust the wolf completely. As long as those on the train didn't lose sight of her, she shouldn't be in too much danger. With that in mind he boarded the car closest to the front of the train.

"She's riding a wolf into battle Martin, I'm not sure if heroics are optional at this point."

Standing at the door, he looked back at Alex. His face scrunched as he worried about her. He wondered if she was going to take to the air or stay on the train. He didn't like the idea of her flying along the train. It was a dangerous move to make. Most people wouldn't pay attention to a bird, but the clowns very well might. Still, he couldn't bring himself to argue for her to stay in the train. With the mission about to begin he didn't want to get into a fight or anything. She was her own person and he couldn't tell her what to do.

Standing at the door, he started to go over the gear he brought with him. He carried enough rounds for two men. At least over a hundred rounds in about six or seven magazines. He also carried a .45 as well, but he didn't know how useful that would be. It probably wouldn't have enough stopping power to do anything more than to inconvenience some of the things lurking about. The knife he carried probably wouldn't be that useful for fighting either, but it had a lot of uses. The Multi-Purpose Rescue Ax he found might be useful for splitting some heads, but he mostly carried it for its non-combat uses. With all the gear he had brought (like the grenades he carried with him) and strapped to him, the one thing relied on the most was his flak vest. He didn't know if it was magic at all (probably not), but he felt like it would keep alive no matter what. He just hoped he didn't have to test that theory.

Summary of equipment:

Modified AR-15/M-16 Rifle with scope 30 round magazine (Use M-16 stats)
with Collimating Sight, Tritium
5 30 round magazines
1 30 round tracer bullets
.45 pistol, full magazine
8 grenades:
1 - smoke
2 - AMC M34 white phosphorous
2 - AMC AN-M14 thermite
2 - AMC M67 frag
2 - ARGES HG 86
4 - M15
M203 grenade launcher 5 rounds HE
4 chem lights
50' of rope
half a roll of duct tape
Lensmatic Tritium Compass
Leatherman multi-tool
Sharpening stone
20 trash bags.
Poncho
Hiking backpack
Improvised lock picks
flashlight
Large knife
shoulder holster
Cut resistant gloves
SAS survival handbook
personal basics
Flak Vest
DR: 7
Location - Torso
Weighs 20lbs.

DocBubonic fucked around with this message at Apr 25, 2019 around 20:17

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround

Alex

She whistles as Jennifer and the Wolf ride by. "Have fun! I mean, be careful too!" The two of them would at least enjoy the battle. Probably a little too much. Making her way onto the train car, she spots Martin. "Give me a yell when we get to a spotty area and I can do recon." The retrofitted steel shutters get a glance. "Could have used one of these on the way out of Wright Patterson."

Alex straightens her self-made armor and looks to the skies briefly before returning to checking her rifle. And then checking her sword. And then checking her rifle again. Stepping up on the train, she similes at Hobbs. "Let's see what Jennifer and Fenrir flush out. And to think, I was worried they would never get along. If I have to fly I'll leave my rifle here. If Jennifer gets into trouble I'm probably the quickest backup for her and Fenrir. Of course, if that wolf needs backup we are all in trouble." She takes a deep breath to calm down. "You ready? You're wearing your flak jacket right? I promise not to do any unneeded heroics if you promise to stay safe."

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

"I think the wolf sees Jennifer as a kindred soul. Both like a good fight. They crave the excitement of battle. And now they're gonna rush off to find something to fight. They should be safe for the most part." Unconsciously he fiddled with the equipment he had tied and attached to his vest. "They'll be fine. Unless something happens to Jennifer. I have a bad feeling the wolf isn't going to defend Jennifer if anything happens to her. Probably won't happen, but if it does, yeah, you'll be our best bet to get to her."

He looked out the window. "If who ever we face out there knows about the wolf, then they might be able to prepare a defense against him. I remember the last time we came up against those clowns. We were prepared to fight them. After I managed to kill one or two of them with head shots, they wised up real quick and found themselves head protection. They found a counter to what I was doing. I think that's the best anyone facing him are going to to do. They might find a way to defend against him, but I doubt they'll be able to take him down. And if they manage to stop him, it'll only be a matter of time before this train shows up. And then I guess we'll help him remove whatever is giving him trouble."

"Yup, don't leave home with out it." To prove the point, he pulled up the collar to show her he had it on. "I promise to stay safe. As long you aren't in danger. I can't guarantee anything if I think something might happen to you."

GaistHeidegger
May 20, 2001

"Can you see?"


Blackbird Dreaming
Music

Chapter 15 - An Ink-Stained Bloom

In the early light of the day the scenery sprawls by, armor-slatted windows offering a vantage of the landscape beyond; what had been a largely drab and dour scene before, however, presented glimpses of greenery not seen since before nightmares roamed and the dereliction of domiciles spread far and wide. Budding flora, burgeoned by the rejuvenating salve of that hard-won intervention beyond the threshold—and with it, the treacherous balance of hope’s blossom against the backdrop of terrors yet unanswered.

Rumbling rattles rock and sway the passengers of the train in relative peace for the first twenty miles, leaving Alex, Hobbs and Allison an opportunity to simply drink in the sights, settle against cushioned seats and steady themselves for what was to come further on. Beyond the locomotive’s rife and readied payloads, Jennifer was left with the wind in her hair as the enormity of the Wolf she rode afforded ready traversal of savaged terrain, maneuvering over and around abandoned automobiles with nimble power.

By late in the morning, sparser rural surroundings surrendered instead to a denser urban sprawl in the railway’s vicinity; out of necessity, the train is slowed steadily on the tracks to afford an opportunity for reconnoissance and scouting ahead, lest an obstruction—purposeful or otherwise—bar the path. Rounding a bend in the tracks slowly, a tone sounds in the interior cars as a number of uniformed men and women gather themselves and stack up for sallied scouting.

Fenrir slows for a moment before deftly leaping atop a service van, its frame rocking on sagging suspension beneath the great beast’s bulk. Little vultures. He snorts with a low rumble, craning his head to peer back at Jennifer with a bright eye. Can you smell them as well, I wonder? From the periphery, she catches the gleam of binoculars from beside the train.

In the train, Gretchen sidles up and leans against the back of Alex’s seat. “Likely signs of raiders up ahead, apparently. Need to do a sweep, make sure they haven’t tucked any IEDs or other surprises for us, if they’re still around.” Jim Burkhart steps past her, nodding ahead towards the exit doors. “I’m going to have a smoke, one way or another.”

By god, we're going to keep on with this thing yet. New chapter time--and how very, very far we've come. Thank you to everyone who's played, and thank you all the more to everyone who has read along and continues to join us for this wild ride.

Ambivalent
Oct 14, 2006



Allison

She watches the countryside, occasionally exchanging a word with Jim - light conversation. The spates of would-be foliage are noted in appreciation. “Our girl at the gate’s doing good work where she is, I guess.” Just needed to keep going, keep pushing ahead. Her fingers dig at her palm reflexively, working out stress as her mind wanders - until the train starts to slow. Allison’s nose wrinkles in disgust. She closes her eyes, counts to some number while nodding, then opens them. She waits less than patiently for the explanation and scoffs irritably. It makes sense but the actress is all urgency lately.

She looks to Alex and Hobbs, “Whatever, I need to stretch my legs anyway.” She follows after Jim, mostly asking herself, or anyone, “...what’s an IED look like, anyway?”

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

Looking at the changes outside, he shook his head in disbelief. He thought a change like this was only a fantasy. A part of him still assumed this was fake. Moving into the the built up area, he focused his attention on the buildings that passed by the train. No telling what could be hiding in the shadows. Even with all of the military might on the train, he couldn't let his guard down. Feeling the train slow down, he went for his rifle. As he was about to bring it up, he paused. There wasn't danger yet. He got up as Gretchen spoke up.

"Guess there's not telling what's out there until we check it out." He shrugged his shoulders. If an IED was set up on the tracks, then that would suggest someone knew that the tracks were going to be used; he thought to himself. There were ways of knowing things like this. The bandits might have some inside information or they might just have someone who can see the future.

"If its an IED, then it could be disguised. Hidden beneath junk or something. Or maybe the raiders just put something on the tracks to stop the train, so they could ambush us. If that's someone's plan, it wasn't thought out very well." He turned to look at Alex,

"Aerial reconnaissance?"

DocBubonic fucked around with this message at Jun 10, 2019 around 20:18

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround

Alex

She shrugs at Allison. "I assume they look like boxes with wires sticking out of them. Based solely on watching action movies of course."

Alex hands her rifle to Hobbs and hugs him. "Reconnaissance duties it is. Wish me luck." Turning to Gretchen she nods. "I'll try to find any bombs and look out for raiders. If it's not raiders I'll raise an alarm. Or tell one of them." She gestures to Hobbs and Allison "Sound good?"

With that, she concentrates on being a slightly more drab corvid. Wouldn't want to draw too much attention after all.

Aerobatics 13
Stealth 15
Flight 12
Will 17
Search 16
Per 16

Oracle
Oct 9, 2004



Jennifer

The smell and sight of green growing things just bolsters her already bouyant mood as they ride through the countryside, a grin on her face as the wind rushes past, making her squint. She thoroughly enjoys the ride, whooping a few times as the great wolf hurdles burned-out husks of vehicles in his pell-mell rush to beat the train.

The things to start to slow, and the city slowly rises around them as they come closer to what's left of civilization. She sits up as the wolf slows, clinging with her thighs as he finally stops atop the van, surveying the area with a squinting frown as she shades her eyes and tries to see what he smells.

Just a freki, not a bloodhound, she replies amusedly, shifting in her seat as she looks back at the train to see if they've noticed anything. From the gleam of light off glass, it seems they have. Where, exactly? Can you pinpoint the location?

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DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

He took her rifle and slung it across his back.

"Just be careful up there. I don't think most humans would think to look up, but the non-humans might think to look up." He didn't want to mention how the clowns would hunt birds. He didn't like even thinking about that possibility.

Per 17, Acute Hearing (1), Acute Vision (1), Combat Reflexes

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