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 The Storm has passed… Well, the wind and rain has moved on at least. But even the dullest Salt-drinker can tell that the times are still unstable as gently caress. It was a bad sign when the surge-strengthened Riptide pushed that enormous piece of jetsam past the Sisters and Gofish, before the storm even arrived. A relic of the Before, scav-crews that braved the weather reported it was a demon of the Sea that suffered no boarders. Those few survivors also reported a Bright Man serves this demon, speaking in riddles and tongues. But now the whispering-chain has started up with black news: the Taking King and his hearts-crew are dead, cruxed on his ship. He may have been a crude vicious despot, but he ensured a kind of pax across the Shoals. So now one question echoes in the souls of the lubbers, lux and rag’d, fisher and pirate: What happens now? Gallows Gathering Clouds seemed to have weathered the storm with only minor puddles and leaks. Who did you offer shelter that you normally wouldn’t? Anywho, Opal gives you a guarded nod as you come out of the back room and jerks her head towards the side-booth. But you can already smell his death-sticks: it seem Gonda has decided to pay you a visit. He stand at the sight of you, all smiles and smarm. “Ah my dear Mister Glass, so glad to see that you and your fine establishment have come through the Rains… undamaged.” He pats a familiar battered leather case on the sidetable, holding up a hand to forestall your objections. “Now, you’ve made your opinion well known, but please hear me out one last time. My.. business associates think that given the circumstances we’re wasting our time with you, but I remember you treating my madre right.” He opens the case, revealing a small device covered in tubes and wires. “A personal desal, good for six liters a day. Easily twice what my last offer was, to just… walk away What do you do? Rox Kit So, did you know you were walking into an ambush, or did they actually manage to catch you unprep’d? You recognize their colors? At least you’ve made them pay over the last few hours, as they cat-and-mouse you through the lowest levels of Maze-town. But now they’ve got you cornered in a half-flooded basement, shining lights down towards you from above. “Heyanow missy! Just come out in the light and we can end this quick. Elsewise we’s gonna take our time, Salt you up properlike!” What do you do? Raincatcher Another Rain has come and gone, wiping the slate clean as it washes the Salt from the people of the Shoals. Who will be able to drink now that you were sad to have to punish? Cloudbreak finds you knee-deep in the spoilt Rain that has found its way into the heart of Cistern. Filterface indicates the hastily repaired pipes and shouts to be heard about the rushing of water. “Lost almost a fifth of the Rain, though we can reclaim most of it. Stores are still good so it coulda been worst.” He holds up a bit of piping, showing you the broken edge. You can tell something is wrong about it, its not the jagged bits of a stress-break. “But Sir! Wasn’t age, ‘twas sabota-!” Filterface is interrupted by a great wailing, whooping noise that cuts through your ears and body. Its followed by a greatly amplified voice. “Hallo Waterbearer! We’ve come for your tithe, so start lowering the barrels!” Galley pokes her head through the doorway, panic on her face. “Waterbearer sir! One of the Taking King’s cutters is below, its got som’thin big mounted on it! What do you do? Deep The Murca has been a fairly dry place to stay out of the storm, plus the Bright Lady tells you stuff when Jaym sleeps. What secret did she tell you last night? The old boat is weird, but reminds you alot of Unnernee. Especially down below where Jaym don’t go, where you’ve set up your rattraps and snares. You’re down here now, checking on breakfast when you realize you’re not alone. Its a sad fact that not all shadows are actually shadows, and you’ve learned the difference. A growl-ly twitter echoes about the pipes and bulkheads. “Hello little Patricia, didn’t you’re mommy and daddy tell you its dangerous to go into dark places by yourself?” Its hard to tell where the mocking growl is coming from, you get the feeling that no matter how you turn its behind you. “Poor little Patty, without even a woodsman or little hood to keep you safe. Not even a house of straw to hide in.” There’s the sound of claws on metal drawing closer to you. What do you do? Specialist Sinclair The end of the storm has given you a chance to give the topside of the America a through inspection. Unfortunately its just as bad as below, with the addition of a partially collapsed ruin pinning the ship in place. You did find one bit of good news in your search, what was it? You’re fairly certain Deep is about, as there’s a pile of mostly-eaten MREs that weren’t there last night. They’ve mostly gone bad, and personally you would have taken them out of the foil-wrap before eating, but you’ve seen your companion eat worse. Before you can track her down, the proximity alert sounds. A half-dead monitor shows the flickering image of a half-dozen small vessels at the edge of the killzone. No sign of heavy weapons, a scattering of small arms. “Hoi Sea-Demon!” A gravelly voice calls out. “Hoi Bright Man! I am Guido of the Fishing Fleet, speaker for the Fisher King! Your passage caused great damage to our fishing ground, and I have been sent to… request compensation!” What do you do?
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Oct 31, 2016 02:15
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 Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 0/5 | 2-armor | 0-barter quote:[17:34:47] <Tricky> Sinclair remembers the past The scent of filth was rich in the air. I had hoped that the storm would provide a respite, but it seemed like it just made it worse. It smelled like the tide had been out for a few days and the flotsam was left to rot in the sun. The top of the ship looked about as bad as that all smelled. There was one good thing, though, and that was that the antenna and radar array was unscathed. I had to remove quite a bit of ocean slime, but it still seemed functional. The monitors would need repair to restore full functionality, of course, but that was a much easier fix than jury-rigging a new radar setup. It'd give me a bit more of a heads-up with approaching bogeys than the proximity sensors when I got it all up and running. Maybe even the ability to engage at range if I could figure out what was wrong with the large-bore guns. The ruined building seemed to have the America thoroughly trapped. It'd take a full crew and a lot of heavy equipment to get things unstuck and, frankly, I doubted the kind of people I'd seen out there could stop shooting each other long enough to do the job. I sighed, cracked my neck back and forth, then headed back below-decks. The muggy heat of the outside faded away as I entered the sterile environment. Go figure, right? I'm the last American walking and I'm probably the only one alive with AC. Still smells a bit off down here, but not even half as bad as outside. I saw a pile of half-eaten MREs in the corner. Deep. The rats had the sense to burrow through the foil. She didn't seem to understand that the foil wasn't part of the meal. Deep had certainly made herself at home -- I'd added her to the ship's white-list just before the storm hit. Done right by me with showing me to that bar and Jackson seemed to like her. She's not so bad to have around. Quiet, for sure, and probably the only person I'd ever met that actually liked MREs. She reminded me of... my mind went hazy for a moment, then snapped back into focus. Of course. She reminded me of my daughter. Little Elena, couldn't have been much more than 5 or 6 when I shipped out to the America. It was the eyes, really, not that you could usually see them with that skull mask she wore. I tried to remember the others. I saw glimpses of relatives, starting with cousins and ending with my parents -- they weren't there when I left. Must have been caught up in whatever happened. There were still too many things I didn't remember. No wife that I could remember. Odd. Was she adopted? I should probably go check in on Deep. She can be a bit handsy with the technical bits and I really don't know how those pods work. It'd be bad if she- The alarm caught my attention. Deep would have to wait. I looked at the monitor and scowled. poo poo. Just what I needed. A bunch of hoodlums in boats who were about to become swiss cheese. Not exactly the way to be winning friends and influencing people. As I quickly strapped on my kit, I took a deep breath. OK. Need to be a diplomatic representative. Need to work them down without getting them all killed. No big deal. All in a day's work for Specialist Sinclair, de facto President of the Free World. I stomped back on up to the deck, scowling as the smell of filth once again invaded my nose. I cast my gaze across the assorted boats, trying to identify the one that spoke. Lots of small guns -- not much to worry about there, at least not for the America. The possibility of a rocket launcher or something bigger had me a bit spooked. I cleared my throat, then linked my armor's mic to the speakers on deck, "This is Specialist Sinclair of the USS America. Be advised, Fishing Fleet, you are dangerously close to the defense perimeter. I will gladly address your concerns, but, I repeat, you are dangerously close to the defense perimeter. Please pull back and we can discuss this." quote:[19:14:52] <Tricky> Sinclair's reading the situation
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Oct 31, 2016 04:27
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 Yeah, cause that's been working out so well for you idiots, I thought to myself as I crept around the walls of the dark room. It'd been such a nice day before they'd shown up too. A bright, clear morning free from the howling wind that'd made the last couple nights unbearable. Happy little scavengers all gossiping about some hot piece of poo poo that'd blown in with the storm. The welcoming sight of the Gathering Clouds, with its doors open and the booze ready. Didn't even make it to the loving entrance before someone decided to remind me what a poo poo-hole I live in. Several loons decked out in black had been waiting in front of the bar and rushed the second I got close enough. Gallow was gonna kill me for leaving their corpses on his doorstep, but maybe, if I was lucky, no one'd mention it was me who put them there. From then on poo poo just kept getting worse. As I'd bolted through Maze-town, I'd tried my best to think of who the hell I'd pissed off recently. Problem was, none of the people in mind dressed their goons out in all black. Well, one almost did, but Scarlet also didn't have anywhere near this number of boys, so that ruled her out. Sides she knew better then to start poo poo out in broad daylight. The town's name had at least lived up to itself, which gave me a decent amount of breathing room. Now if only I'd been able to ditch these guys for good in that maze. I was loving exhausted and running out of options, but they had to be running out of bodies to throw at me. My musings were interrupted when I reached the water-logged part of my little bunker. Aside from a few scattered pieces of wood, there was a whole lot of loving nothing in this basement. Probably been picked over by scavs years ago. I sighed, reaching back to pull out my last resort. My boom launcher was probably the worst thing for this situation, but the assholes upstairs weren't leaving me much choice. Still, before I fired one of my very valuable explosives upwards and risk bringing the room down on my head, there was one part of the room I hadn't looked through. Holding my breath, I submerged my head into the darkness-chilled water and strained my eyes to find whatever hole the water was coming in from. Reading Sitch: 8 Where’s my best escape route? pre:Gunlugger Look: Woman, Battered Old Armor, Dull Face, Sad Eyes, Compact Body Stats: Cool+2 Hard+2 Hot-2 Sharp=0 Weird=0 Moves Battlefield instincts: when you open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, roll+hard instead of roll+weird, but only in battle. Prepared for the inevitable: you have a well-stocked and high-quality first aid kit. It counts as an angel kit (cf) with a capacity of 2-stock. NOT TO BE hosed WITH: in battle, you count as a small gang, with harm and armor according to your gear. Gear Grenade launcher (4-harm close area messy) Magnum (3-harm close reload
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Oct 31, 2016 06:18
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 Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 0:00 | Exp: 0/5 | 1-armor | 1-barter I reach my arm out of a gouge in the steel skin of the USS America and smile as the saltwash spray lands gently upon my skin. The ocean - majestic, vast, terrifying - all words for home. But more specifically, I think as I pull my arm back inside and push my face up against the hole to look outside, the America has been my home for the last week or so, during one of the loudest storms I've witnessed in my possibly-not-so-few years here in the Shoals. As I busy myself with studying the skyline, you may be wondering why this text is so intelligible - why, it's for you, my dear readers and don' aspect it allatime cuz'n got Imadj ta mantayn! Far on the horizon, billowing black clouds fade away, leaving nothing but painful clear sky and memories of rocking, rolling, roiling, and wetness. Utter wetness. Shudda staid Unnanee... butnooooooooo Jaym seddee wanna protek me'n take'd me ta da Murca! Nada jo'in fa stormtime! Nofun! The only break in the monotony of waiting out the storm came late last night when I stumbled into some barred off room that I'm not even sure Jaym knows exists. There was a Bright Lady there. She kept calling me the 'Mother of Tomorrow.' I tried to eat her shoe but I kept missing. I spit in frustration, then refocus my attention on the job at hand. The America is some ancient vessel entirely out of place, but the rats and other vermin don't know that. Tappa trap! Dark would always say, me nodding along sagely. Unfortunately, nothing has sprung any of my traps yet, save an aluminum can but it smelled like slugwurmmies so I threw it at a gull and went along my way. Until... the voice. Growlies! Well gently caress this! Deep is the mouse. 2d6 = 5 I get caught, you say where. Sidenote: I do rolls in irc, can't paste the log with Andchat, so let me know if you want something more official/worry about me cheating. Which I clearly should have done. My heart leaps or of my chest. Somehow, it found me. And it's... everywhere! I shriek, pick a direction at random, then bolt in it. Fug fug fug fug fugugugugugugugugug! Dark! Whyyoo leave'd meeeeeeeeeeee?!
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Oct 31, 2016 07:14
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 Cool +2 | Hard +1 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +0 Harm 0:00 | Exp 1/5 | 0-Armor | 4-Barter Today we find ourselves at the beginning of a new cycle. The Rain has come and gone, and as it leaves it takes with it the memories of the Sins of the recent past. Today as the clouds break, we find ourselves filled with a cautious hope that we can continue to keep our slate clean until it Rains once again. And there's an even quieter hope that, perhaps, nobody will find their names marked on the record this time. But deep down, we know that will not be the case. If humanity were so perfect, the world would not be in the state it currently is in. A small smile crosses my face as I cross out a certain name: Desmond. A few weeks ago he came to us, with a large cut across his face, and told us of how he was attacked by a rabid madman. And what he did to protect his own life. "It was either him or me," he said. "I didn't have a choice." I couldn't blame him. I know how it is out there. We can't all be as steadfast as Hightide. Even I'm not as steadfast as Hightide. And that's why the Third Commandment's punishment isn't permanent. After I wipe the records clean, I find myself with Filterface checking the water and the pipes. A slight pinch of terror grips me in the chest as I see the broken pipe and come to the same conclusion he does. If there is indeed sabotage happening within these walls, the implications would be very grave indeed. If somebody within these walls sabotaged our water system, that means that there is someone among us who calls themselves a Friend but actually is our Enemy. And not only that, but they are also an Enemy of the common good. It would be one thing if it were just greed and theft, but who does damage to a thing that is a benefit to all? Perhaps our true enemies are closer than I thought! Perhaps there is someone within these walls who wishes to see us all drown-! But before my thoughts can continue much longer, I am interrupted by a loud wailing outside. “Hallo Waterbearer! We’ve come for your tithe, so start lowering the barrels!” And then Galley shouts at me. “Waterbearer sir! One of the Taking King’s cutters is below, its got som’thin big mounted on it!" Hmm... I take a moment to ponder. We did have an arrangement with the Taking King, out of necessity, but it's too soon for that now. And even if the timing were right, the old Despot's supposed to be dead, anyway. So then... who's asking, now? I go to one of the windows and stick my head outside. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the outside light, and as they do I look down below. "Who goes there?" I shout out, projecting my voice as much as I still can. "Who comes asking for water?" I ask this partially to figure out what kind of authority this fellow is trying to extort us from in this new order. Will they act as though the King is not dead, or will they try to cement their own power? And the other reason I ask is to stall. We've been caught off-guard quite badly by this, but the longer this goes on the more likely it will be that I can gain some kind of leverage here. Read A Sitch: SidekickBOT - Today at 6:07 PM @Raincatcher - Takanago: 2d6+1 Raincatcher Reads A Sitch = (5+5)+1 = 11 Asking: -What should I be on the lookout for? -What's my enemy's true position? -Who's in control here?
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Oct 31, 2016 23:24
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 Cool 0 Hard 0 Hot +2 Sharp +1 Weird 0 I'm clearing out the buckets and brushing the blood off the floor, sometimes the rains are hard enough to do damage to any fool out in them, The Shark Brothers are out the front picking their teeth and trying to do some limited repairs. My regulars are not yet in and the place feels clean... and now I have to deal with the first bit of muck on the floor. I give my best salesmen grin at Gonda before I whistle softly "My my you and your benefactors sure know how to bribe a man" I wink at Opal at this, whilst she rolls her eyes. "But walking isn't really my thing." I hold the desal in my hands and look it over pretending to understand all the facets of it before placing it down on the table and turning back to him. "You know I am not giving the Storm up, even now. I've got a good set up here, I've got people I like and I've got things I give a poo poo about. So unfortunately I have to prove your associates right." I give my best attempt at a sad smile. "But your Madre didn't raise an idiot my friend, so I wanted to ask you something, man to man. Why work for those upstairs? Sure your on a longer leash than most but it's still a leash." I see his jaw tighten "Now I don't mean anything by it, I've got my own leash tied to this place, but your still young, is what their offering you really that good?" I walk over to the bar hop over it before rummaging around underneath. "As a token to show I am not interested, but that I am appreciative of you in particular, I'd like you to have this" It's a single bottle of some of the good Dawnie Ale. Not the truly good stuff, but the ones that we can sell. I extend it, watching as he eyes the beer, the glass and the hand that holds it. "If you could tell me a little bit about what they want of course, I could always let them have a look in the cellar, maybe they'll find what they are looking for" Manipulating Gonda- 9 https://discordapp.com/channels/241587370049142784/242762150009896980 Josef bugman fucked around with this message at 00:55 on Nov 2, 2016 |
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Nov 1, 2016 09:39
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Gallows He glares at you for a bit before sighing and letting you pour him a drink. He sips it, and nods appreciatively. “Good stuff. And she said you were a tough sonnabitch, but I guess I enjoy a challenge.” He take another drag on his coffin-nail. “Change is coming to the Shoals, I know you’re sharp enough to know that. The way I see it, its better to ride on Change’s railing then drowned under its keel. The whole of this spire is slated for redos, its going to be the bee’s cream for Maze-town’s lux-bags. Now my associates want to deal with as few independent operators as possible, but I think if you’re willing to go to fish for them I can convince them to bring you on board.” He picks up the desal and places it back in his satchel. “The only other holdout is Stagger Lee and her red-house. I’m sure if you were to… deal with that situation, your stock would rise with Clearwater Asok.” He’s willing to work with you, but he wants you to deal with Stagger Lee first Rox Kit Its black as Sin under the water, but the fuckers upstairs are helpfully shining lights down on you. It takes a little bit, but you finally see the unblocked window leading out into open waters. Oddly enough, you can see marks scratched into the rusted metal framing the passage. Fairly new, as they haven’t been coated in muck yet. Its going to be a tight fit with your armor and gear, but its the only way out that’s not through the bastards with guns. And if sensing your thoughts, bullets start hitting the water around you. Its obviously random fire, but evidently their patience has run out. Escaping through the window will require a do something under fire or you’re the mouse roll since they have the advantage on you. Raincatcher Much to your chagrin it is indeed one of the Taking King’s cutters, big enough to hold a dozen killers and one of the former despot’s precious boom-tube. Slow to reload, but even one shot could severely damage Cistern. At the prow of the cutter you see a greasy man with wild hair clutching a loudener. You’ve seen him in the King’s court, he maintained the royal fleet. Rev, perhaps? “Hallo Waterbearer! We be the Motrpull, the owners of the only cutter left in the Shoals! We’re gonna be keeping up the patrols, so if you deal with us like the old King we’ll make sure the King’s Bargain is held. Win-win righto?” You can tell that while they have enough firepower to kill everyone in Cistern, they’re holding back. It may be because they honor the Bargain, or the Commandments, or aren’t ready to see what happens if someone straight-up attacks Cistern. But they were twitchy enough to put a sniper in the spire across the way, the glint of light of the optics catching your eye. “Well Waterbearer, what’s the word?” -What should I be on the lookout for? - sniper -What's my enemy's true position? - Rev is the focal point -Who's in control here? - You are Deep You skedaddle through the guts of the ship, but you can’t quite shake the growling laughter. And then Murca betrays you as the rusty walkway you’re running down snaps, spilling you down into the darkness. You fetch up hard against a huge wall of metal (1-harm). As your eyes focus, you see there’s a faint yellow light shining from the wall, and an old sign on it:  More laughter echoes above you, and the Wolf lowers itself into the light. Its body is covered in a thick raincoat, punctured by several ragged holes. You’re pretty sure it once wore the face of one of the scavs Murca ratatat’d, but now purulent drool drips from its muzzle. “Oh poor Patricia, lost and looking for little Richard. Not Red but Gretel, not knowing that her Hansel has already been found.” Its lips pull back, revealing jagged and broken teeth. “But not by her, oh no. And not even the woddcutter or fairy godmother with be able to save poor little Ricky.” It drops down, between you and the only path away from the Dangerdoor. “And maybe not even poor Patty.” It smiles again as it shows you its claws. Specialist Sinclair There’s some confused murmurs on the boats until one of them inches over the primary perimeter, triggering the targeting lasers and warning klaxon. Its a few minutes of frightened scurrying and they’ve moved further back. Watching them, you can tell that these aren’t hardened fighters, they’re more likely to start shooting in panic than a disciplined engagement. Except for this one fucker on Guido’s boat. She doesn’t so much as flinch when everyone else is making GBS threads themselves at the America, and you can tell that her large-bore rifle is lovingly maintained. A pair of battered wrap-arounds hide her eyes and protect them from sea-glare. Eventually Guido gets his folks in order and shout across to you. “Our apologies to the Sea-Demon, Brightman Sinclair! We do not wish to invade its lair, but its travels scraped the krill-spawn supin fierce. The Fisher-King asks that it provides hurt-price, or submits to the Waterbearer’s Judgement.” What should I be on the lookout for? - The Fishers may panic-attack What's my enemy's true position? - Just outside the America's firing range Which enemy is the biggest threat? - The trained killer on Guido’s boat
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Nov 2, 2016 00:45
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 0/5 | 2-armor | 0-barter Of course the America had mucked up their fishing grounds. Well, given what I had heard from Deep about the wave that washed the ship here, it probably wasn't all our fault. That said, those guys looked awfully twitchy -- the lady in shades a notable exception -- and they didn't seem to really grasp nuance. Hell, they apparently thought I was the prophet of some dread demon in ship form. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage. I certainly didn't have any money -- it seemed like they were on a barter system and I wasn't about to strip the America for parts. The only thing I really had going for me was the Med-Bay. I made a big show of calming down the 'Sea Demon,' coinciding with the last of the fishers retreating outside of the perimeter. They looked suitably impressed, though that was probably more from the boggling array of guns than anything else. It was time to do my best fake religious bit. I toggled the mic, trying to mentally translate into terms they might understand, "The mighty Sea-Demon has given me leave to temporarily offer my services in compensation, though it will still jealously guard its lair from those who advance uninvited. Would your Fisher-King be interested in medical aid for those of his fleet?"
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Nov 2, 2016 02:44
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Cool+2, Hard+2, Hot-2, Sharp=0, Weird=0 Harm:0 Exp:1/5 Oh, thank you Lord. The sight of the open window was a relief, though the feeling quickly subsided when I felt the impacts next to me. It was blind fire, but it only took one lucky hit to ensure that I wouldn't be going very far in any direction. My mind made up for me I pushed myself into the water. The shouts and gunfire became muffled echoes as I clawed my way towards the window. The relative cleanliness of the metal frame didn't escape my notice, but at that moment it was at the very the bottom of crap I gave two fucks about. Swimming Under Fire: 11 A brief moment of panic struck me as my boot caught on the frame. Getting stuck for even a second while your life rested entirely in your lungs was a sickening sensation. Fortunately, a quick tug saw it clear and me moving blindly forward again, praying that the water ended before my breath did. Brainamp fucked around with this message at 03:37 on Nov 2, 2016 |
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Nov 2, 2016 03:33
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 1-barter I wind my way through the twisted, dark ironways of the America, desperate for a way out, a way up, a way... away. But instead the salted rustcrap beneath me gives out, sending me plummeting forward, deeper into the scrapworks. I shriek as the cold bulkhead rushes up to meet me. Aaaiiiiiiiiiii! Deep suffer harm (1-armor vs. 1-harm = 2d6) = 7 You do a thing but you might have already? I don't know what I'm doing I lie on the ground moaning for a tick, but the laughing growl surrounding me is motivation enough to push myself back up to my feet. Allafuck! I think as I nurse my arm that I just landed on. Dis fugg'n day 'n alla had ta et wuz un yumbag Jaym nowanna touch. I shake the thought from my head and whirl, searching desperately for an escape. The door behind me... Catun? And then a way towards the growls. As I consider which way to go, the monster drops down, blocking my way out. I mumble under my breath as it speaks a strange tale, "Yoo be'n monsta 'n dressie like'd salted brightman but no like Jaymie. Don' Yoo say'd dat name, don' yoo say'd dat name, DON' YOO SAY'D DAT NAME!" I shout and spit and tug at my flimsy bladesticks, but the creature simply opens it's hands, revealing cruel blades that sound like a billion mice crying at once. My breath catches and my thoughts converge on the only possible option that puts distance between me and the growler. I yelp and leap backwards, my back now pressed against the mysterious door. I stick my finger out at the growler, "Yoo'd stopper na! Dis be'd door with'n kattins n'side! Stays back or I'd maimkill us both!" I grab the handle threatening to open the door unless the monster backs off. Of course, that'd because Deep believes the room full of kittens, which she has a mysterious fear of. Whether the growler is afraid, on the other hand, is up to you, PG. In the meantime... Deep read the growler = 8 Asking: How can I get the growler to let me escape? Making experience for highlighted move
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Nov 2, 2016 06:45
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Cool 0, Hard 0, Hot +2,Sharp +1, Weird 0 [/quote] I look around, Gonda hanging in the air like a corpse from a pole. "poo poo" I mutter, going behind the bar and grabbing the long knife and the coat I use for going out and about. "Opal! Get the boys to open up as usual, I've got to go talk to Stager Lee". Opal raises an eyebrow, but nods and heads out, grabbing the shark boys by the ear and pointing at the ground/taps where they need to start preparing the booze. Now I've known stagger for some time, I know that she's an rear end in a top hat and I know that she's fair. I also know that if they are trying to buy me out then whichever poor son of a bitch got sent to the Red-House would have come out having been fed to the deep. So I decide to take a little walk with Stagger, find out what she knows and what we can do, see which rear end in a top hat will give me less of a target on the head of my crew, and which rear end in a top hat will give me better payment options. I arrive at the Red-House to find the door closed and bolted, no surprise after a big rain, and also the jaw bone of a man tied to the front door like a particularly grizzly way of attracting attention to whoever's inside. "Lee, open up you pestilence riddled old harridan" I shout, a grin on my face as I rap the metal with my knuckles. No response. "Lee, come out or I swear to the storm you'll be more than staggering". Still nothing. Now I am not a suspicious man but I do not like walking into an ambush. I ease the blade into my hand and try and push at the door, it gives a little as I move it, so I stalk in. Going to roll "Read a sitch" from the playbook, rolling +sharp. Getting a 9 (again) so I am going to ask: What should I be on the look out for?
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Nov 4, 2016 00:34
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Cool +2 | Hard +1 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +0 Harm 0:00 | Exp 1/5 | 0-Armor | 4-Barter "Ah, Mot-r-pull," I say the word slowly, testing out the gravitas of the title. It doesn't sound half-bad, but it also doesn't seem to carry the same weight the Taking King once did. "Well if you want to talk about the King's Bargain, we can talk about the King's Bargain. I don't have a problem with that." Technically correct. These folks are clearly trying to angle for something more than they deserve, but I wouldn't necessarily object to giving them something. Nor would I object to talking about what we gave the King. "But this isn't the way we should do it." I make a big, sweeping motion with my arms that should be clearly visible from the ship. "I'm sorry, but my lungs aren't as good as they used to be, and there's only so long I can shout from a window." Talking inside would have the bonus of being able to get away from that damned sniper. And it would get him away from most of his crew and probably make him easier to deal with. There's a lot that can done in a simple conversation between two men. "Come on inside, Rev! You know we'd never hurt you in here. We can talk about this over a nice glass of water!"
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Nov 4, 2016 14:07
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Gallows The light from the doorway does little but throw up shadows into the Red-House. From one of the deeper ones, you hear the whine of Stagger Lee’s zap gun. Everyone in Maze-town has a tell on how the old Dam got her hands on that sweet bit of hi-tech. What’s your theory? Anyways, she steps into the light, the crackling tip of the gun pointed straight at your head. “Christ o’ da Crackers you old gently caress, don’t you ever shut up? Now, I’ve just sent a nickel of ‘ardcases down to the CandleMan and you show up with your bleeder? Start talking or I’m gonna make Opal a happy lady.” Now, Stagger Lee bitching at all and sundry aint new or odd. What is odd is that her bodyguard Franken aint anywhere to be seen, and he’s never left her side in the decade since she saved him from some Salt-drinkers. What should I be on the lookout for? - Stagger Lee’s got herself a nasty hitech gun Rox Kit Once free of the window-frame, the water is remarkably free of debris, and sunlight can bee seen through patches of surface junk. You come up for air in the shadow of a metalbird’s wing, somehow wedged into the spire’s side. Above you is the outer spire-way, a black-clad rearguard on lookout. Behind you the shooting dies down, and you can hear muffled shouts. The rearguard looks back into the building and then fiddles with with their belt. There’s a buzzing noise, and a small, sleek object lifts of the landing and flies into the spire you so recently vacated. Have you seen a quad since you left Flotilla? Regardless, as long as you stick to the shadows at the water’s edge, you should be able to ditch them before they can finish searching the flooded room for you. That is, if you want to let them live. Raincatcher You can see some poorly concealed fist-bumps amongst the cutter’s killers before Rev gets them focused again. “Sounds good Waterbearer, up in a jif!” Your people bring him and one other, a towering brute whose size marks him a Dirter. Jase gives you the sign that they did not try to bring weapon into Cistern. Rev approaches energetically, stopping just inside of comfortable. He still smells of hot oil, but you can see he’s lux’d-up his wardrobe a bit. “Glad yur willin’ to see reason on this Waterbearer. I gots most of the old king’s remaining crew on my thumb, but we know that you’ve got the love o’ the common folk. Gonna have to present a strong and knighted front if we’re gonna keep those basterd finwalkers and Jumble-fucks in their place.” He leans in farther and whispers conspiratorially. “Even got a plan fur dealin’ with that Demon that rolled in.” Deep From behind the great door comes the sound of a great many padded feet pawing at the metal, and a myriad of inquisitive yowls. The Growler stops, and you can see doubt in the Maelstrom-light of its eyes. “You wouldn’t dare little child. Pactricias are good little girls with bows and dollies. You don’t want to open that door and let the nasty kattins out, so messy and gross.” And then you hear the Bright Lady’s voice in you head, comforting but strong. <<Fear is their food Deep. Starve it and it will have no power over you.>> But between your head still ringing from the fall and the Bright Lady’s words, you lose your focus, and the Growler is suddenly looming over you, claw raised ready to strike! harm roll: You lose track of something important How can I get the growler to let me escape?: By not being afraid of it Whatever Deep does now, a do something under fire roll comes first since the Growler has the drop on her. Specialist Sinclair There’s some confused muttering amongst the Fishers, but it seems a consensus is reached. Guido once again steps forward. “If you be meaning that you have the knowing of the Angel’s Arts, then we can wheelndeal, yah. We’ve three whole crews down with the Black Shakes. If you can keep them out of the Locker, I can Speak that the Fisher-King would be well happied.” The woman in shades leans forward and whispers something into his ear. He starts to protest, but she silences him with an upraised hand. He nods curtly and turns back to you. “Ahh, Brightman Sinclair! The Fisher-Of-Men would like to know the Demon’s name. She likes to know the names of her rivals.” More whispering. “S-so she knows what to have tattooed on her back when they are d-dead.” The rest of the Fisher cringe, awaiting retribution. The woman (Fisher-Of-Men?) simply smiles at you, and even at this distance you can see her teeth have been filed to points.
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Nov 5, 2016 01:59
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 0:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 1-barter The incessant scratchies coming from behind the door and Brightlady's voice in my head cause me to recoil in pain, and when I regain my senses, the Growler is hovering over me with sharpened, deadly claws waiting to strike. O yoo summbitch. Brightlady's voice echoes around in my head. Feed'n da fear? Starve'd da growlie? Starve'd da fear! Do something under fire [6:19 PM] Deep-AlphaFerg: /r 2d6 [6:19 PM] BOTSidekick: @Deep-AlphaFerg: 2d6 = (1+3) = 4 [6:19 PM] Deep-AlphaFerg: poo poo The worst Only, as I look up at its eyes - hollow, feral, violent - I flinch back, unable to keep the fear out, unable to keep it from reaching up and drowning me. I put my hands up, trying to block it out, force it away just by wishing it wasn't there. "No yoo goway! No growlieees nooooo!" I shout. Frgrbrgr fucked around with this message at 02:38 on Nov 5, 2016 |
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Nov 5, 2016 02:29
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 0/5 | 2-armor | 0-barter These people are crazy. Lunatics. And I just promised to cure some sort of mystery disease. Maybe this was why I never really got promoted. Something, something, 'acts without thinking,' something. I miss the days where I wasn't in charge of the Free World. A simpler time with simpler solutions. Well, first thing first, I'd need to get one of them to the med-bay so I could have it run some tests. The equipment should be able to do most of the heavy lifting from there. I glanced at the Fisher-Of-Men. She was definitely giving me a bad vibe. And those pointy teeth. Was she whatever it was that Deep had been rambling about? I toggled my mic, "The Sea-Demon, America, agrees to those terms. I will need you to bring one of your sick here so that I can create a cure for your crews. The Sea-Demon guarantees their safety and safe passage to its lair for the boat carrying it." I thought about tossing in some line about how America would never die while people still enjoyed liberty and freedom, but that seemed like a quick way to give the Fisher-Of-Men some weird ideas. For better or worse, it looked like the situation would resolve itself without shooting. Score one for diplomacy.
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Nov 5, 2016 02:46
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Cool +2 | Hard +1 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +0 Harm 0:00 | Exp 1/5 | 0-Armor | 4-Barter On the table are three clear glasses of water, and a pitcher. "Have a seat, Rev," I say, as I motion towards one of the seats, and then sit down myself. My tone is quiet and serious, a stark contrast to the new warlord's enthusiasm. Then I pick up my own glass and take a sip. "We should talk more about the Bargain before we jump into it. Just like you'd check water before you'd jump in it." I look deeply into Rev's eyes, staring at the person lying underneath the surface. "It's good to hear that you've got most of the king's old crew, but I have one important question for you. Do you think you can keep up your end of the Bargain? Or rather, do you know you can keep it up?" I point to a couple of signs on the wall, part of an abridged version of the Five Commandments. IV. TELL NO LIE V. BREAK NO OATH "I want you to listen to what I have to say very carefully, because it's for your own good.The King's end of the Bargain was to guarantee the safety of Cistern. Guar-an-tee. And in return we gave him the King's Share. It all worked out because with his word protecting us, we knew we wouldn't have to fight." "Think very carefully, Rev. Can you make the same promise? If so, we might as well swear upon these glasses of water right now, but..." I give Rev a serious stare. "If you do that, and if someone out there hurts us anyway, that means you've broken the Fifth. Then we'd have to cut you off permanently. No water ever again, with no exceptions." "If you want my personal advice, Rev, I suggest you think very carefully about everything before you commit to a deal like this. If even the King himself can be got, there's no telling what the next set of waves might bring. In the meantime, you and your crew can pick up your own personal shares of water from us and you all can do with that what you will. "Oh, and before you respond," I put up my hand, to give one last warning. "Just remember not to say anything that will make me fill your mouth with Salt." SidekickBOT - Today at 9:42 PM @Raincatcher - Takanago: 2d6-1 Raincatcher manipulates Rev = (5+4)-1 = 8 I'm manipulating Rev to convince him that trying to continue the King's Bargain would be a bad, risky idea because failure to protect us would invoke the punishment of Commandment Five.
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Nov 5, 2016 03:55
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a mini-post to keep things flowing and deal with some consequences Deep The Growlie slams into you, slashing at you with its claws (2-harm) as you weakly defend yourself. But among the Growlie’s yips and your screams, a small quiet sound is heard. Metal moving against metal, the sound of a handle that’s being leaned on by a terrified child clicking into the ‘open’ position. The wail of the alarm is drowned out by the sound of 10,000 kattins hissing at once. Their light burns your eyes Deep, and you faintly hear the Growlie’s screams of pain. They paw at you, but gently, like a mouse they haven’t decided to kill. It seems like a lifetime, but eventually a loud voice screams “EMERGENCY BULKHEAD CLOSED RADIATION LEVELS NOMIAL” and you feel the kattins no more. Except for a voice in the darkness of your soul, soft and full of menace. <<We have feasted upon your foe Child-of-Now, and taken our price from you. We will not be so kind if we meet again.>> Roll +harm received for the Growlie’s attack. Also name what the kattins took from Deep as the price for their help. The Demon Speaks... Across the quiet waters of the Shoals, the relative peace of the clear-sky is shattered. The sound starts low, more a vibration in your guts, then moves upwards until its a scream that threatens to shatter your skull. The Sea-Demon’s voice (for what else could it be?) is heard three times before it is silent again, the echoes bouncing about the spires of Maze-town. But as the echoes fade, a low sound rises in the east. A collective moan, filled with anger and hate. Specialist Sinclair You and Guido are finishing up the arrangements for bringing an infected individual to the America when its Emergency Quarters alarm sounds. For you, its a loud annoyance, but to the Fishers its an assault on their souls. Before the second whistle sounds, several are screaming in fear and firing at the ship. None come even close to you, and the threat is lessened even more as their more reasonable companions have the boats already speeding away from the ‘angry Demon’. As the alarm dies down, you see several panels lit up with warnings, radiations levels are spiking in the engine room and there’s a possible containment breach. There’s a crackle in your headset, and a voice speaks to you. Its a patchwork, words and phrases coming from different mouths. Including yours and Jacksons. “Specialist Sinclair, James R., please attend to our needs. The child has caused Us some discomfort.” One of the monitors flickers and shows the outer reactor chamber, Deep huddled in the corner and elevated radiation readings. Raincatcher Rev looks at you nervously, beads of sweat forming as you lay out the Bargain. You see him rally himself as you finished, preparing to take the plunge. Until the Demon Speaks. It causes some concern amongst the Cistern-folk, but they believe in you and the Source. Rev on the other hand, deflates. “I-I think it best if we keep our biz informal-like. We’ll do our best to keep things level though.” He licks his lips. “It would be a powerful help if you would send me back down with a barrel. As a jester of good will to the boyz, help sooth their disappointment.” Rev will not take the Bargain as you like, but he wants a good supply of water upfront.
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Nov 9, 2016 00:30
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 0-armor | 0-barter Goddamnit, Deep! What did you do to my ship? Who was on the comms? What was going on with my life? I looked at the fleeing ships, sighed, and ran down into the depths of the America. There had to be a radiation suit somewhere. I sprinted through the corridors, banging off of several walls along the way, before I skidded to a halt in front of the entrance to the engine section. I shucked off my armor in a hurry and strapped on one of the two radiation suits hanging outside. The radiation seemed to be dying down, whatever breach had caused it having stopped, but I couldn't leave her in there. She looked like she had gotten roughed up by something. Radiation doesn't cause cuts. Well, it didn't. Who knows these days. I took a deep breath and punched in the override. The bulkhead door ground open and I stepped in. Deep was still breathing, which was good. Kind of shocking based on the readings I had seen on the monitor, but good. I scanned the room, seeing nothing else, then slapped panel for the emergency decontamination system. Water started spraying from the ceiling as I bundled up Deep in my arms. Definitely needed to be looked at in the Med-Bay. The water died to a trickle and the announcement system blared to life, DECONTAMINATION COMPLETE. I was about to turn and leave when a curious scratching sound seemed to echo through the room. It was coming from the door to the reactor? Weird. I stepped closer to it and did my best to listen. What was in there? quote:SidekickBOT - Today at 4:10 PM
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Nov 9, 2016 02:19
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Sorry, thought I'd already posted this. Cool+2, Hard+2, Hot-2, Sharp=0, Weird=0 Harm:0 Exp:2/5 The salt in my eyes must have been messing with me, cause I could swear that the man standing up above had just sent a quad into the structure I'd just vacated. The thing itself wasn't too impressive, barely more then a bundle of wires wrapped in a fragile metal shell, but it could move fast in small areas. A good scout and rare as clean water out here. The fact that these goons had that kind of flash at their disposal spoke to just how well geared they were, which pissed me off even more. Moving as slowly as one trying to stay afloat in choppy water could, I lifted my boom launcher up. The angle was weird, but if I placed this right I could take out the guard and maybe even destroy this exit of the spire. Wouldn't be enough to trap the group permanently, but would give me enough time to finally ditch their asses. Going Aggro with a surprise grenade: 5 A small swell struck me as fired the launcher. A minor inconvenience, but all it took to gently caress up my aim and send the explosive wildly off course. Straight up into the air the shell went and my eyes widened they desperately tried to track it. Up, up, and past its intended target. The guard was now leaning over the railing to see what had made the noise. It would have been perfect were the grenade to come back down on his head at that moment. No such luck. It was on its way to ruin some poor bastard's day, but not this one. No, this unharmed bastard was already calling back into the structure for his buddies. Growling in frustration, I tried to swim as far as I could before they unloaded on my position.
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Nov 9, 2016 03:01
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 0-barter Damage roll.... [3:25 PM] Deep-AlphaFerg: /r 2d6+1 [3:25 PM] BOTSidekick: @Deep-AlphaFerg: 2d6+1 = (3+5)+1 = 9 the MC chose You lose your footing: Deep isnt exactly mobile now I recoil as claws rake against my arm, cutting deep gouges as they pass. I flinch back in horror and shut my eyes as I lean on something and a click noise rockets around the room - replaced by sinister hissing. I keep my eyes shut tight as more sounds and feelings surround me - kattins! Soft paws and bright lights surround everything, and for a second all I can sense is an intense expanse, as if all things in the Shoals, and indeed the rest of this broken world, have been united, and then shattered and rebuilt. An epic sense of curiosity, followed by a hunger for... change. And then, it's gone, replaced by cold and dark and nothing. Somewhere off in the distance, an alarm blares, but it's just noise. Wa... ZAT?! I shudder, and open my eyes slowly, revealing the growler gone, the door closed again, and basically just an empty room except for me and... hey werralla my poo poo go?! Allacrap (1-barter) gone! I kick the floor in anger, but also to hide the fact that I'm still shaking from whatever that just was. The kattins' message is still echoing in my headspace - I shake my head to clear it out, only it just gets replaced with a major headpain and now I realize just how painful all of that was. Alleast shitgrowlie goneway... Jaym rushes around the corner and quickly surveys the situation, including a mostly broken me, and runs some sort of dammination. I'm honestly just too out of it to really talk to him at this point but I lean into his chest as he picks me up off the ground and cradles me. "Tanks Jaymie... " I make out, "Wazzem growlie!" Still, being in his arms, I can't help but feel a strange warmth that I haven't felt in a long time. My thoughts are invariariably pulled towards Dark - Werrizzee? Wazzee doin?! but instead of brooding I find myself drifting off to sleep as Jaym carries me elsewhere.
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Nov 10, 2016 01:26
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Specialist Sinclair You listen intently, but only hear the gurgling of old pipes. From behind you there’s an exasperated sigh. Its oddly familiar, but you’re getting used to the hazy memories that refuse to surface. Jackson is standing in the open bulkhead, her sundress ruffled by an unfelt wind. She shakes her head at you and sighs again. “The kattins belong to Deep, you’re too old to hear more than echoes. Too old, too boring, too literal. Why do you think the Demon chose to speak to you directly?” Her expression grows sad, and her clothing flickers between the sundress, a formal gown, and fatigues. “The Heart is the nexus. Remember your promise.” There’s a loud hiss of static from the PA, and Jackson fades away as Deep mumbles into your chest.
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Nov 10, 2016 02:04
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 0-armor | 0-barter Jackson. There she was again. She was feeling chatty today. And, uh, kind of mean. I wasn't that old. Right? I couldn't be much past my mid-twenties. I mean, sure, I don't actually remember how old I am, but still. And boring? What? Dang, Jackson. That was cold. I was just your average highly-trained soldier. I liked cool things. Like, you know, music and stuff. Cool music. The good stuff! Then there was something about a heart, a nexus, and that drat promise. It all sounded kind of familiar. Probably important. Probably critical, even. That said, I still had Deep in my arms and she was probably suffering from radiation exposure. Jackson's message would have to wait. Deep's voice brought me out of my reverie. "Tanks Jaymie... Wazzem growlie!" My brow furrowed. Growlie? Deep had mentioned it before. Some sort of creature. Looked to have pretty wicked claws, based on those cuts. And it was in the ship. poo poo. I'd have to secure the premises, but I couldn't leave Deep alone if it was still out there. It'd have to wait until I got her back on her feet. I started winding my way back towards the Med-Bay. It was a real stroke of luck that the wiring to it hadn't been damaged. A lot of the ship was still inoperable. While I walked, I looked down at her and smiled, "Hey, it's gonna be alright, Deep. We'll get you patched up in no time. What were you in the engine room for? That place is really, really dangerous." I paused for a moment, thinking back to Jackson, and added, "And what's a Kattin?"
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Nov 10, 2016 02:51
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 0-barter Jaym's voice startles me back to reality. I look up at the grizzled man, "Wazzin enjin rum cuziwaz chasied dere, Mistajaymie," I respond, "Itz da growlies fault! Jaym asks me what a kattins is, "Kattins? Yoo donwanna no Jaymie. Dey live innanutha worldie 'n zoomin ova t' da Shoalies wif da mekkins and splattin allaguys hoo gunfite 'em! 'N da kinga da kattins is a biggol draggins wif da burnbreath! 'N 'e haz a bizillin zapguns 'n nooks! Yoo donwanna mess wif da kittins Mistajaymie nossirree." Deep has no idea what a kattins is.
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Nov 10, 2016 20:23
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 0-armor | 0-barter I nodded along as Deep chattered on about electric dragons lording over us all from the skies. The poor girl was clearly delirious. I needed to get her strapped in and, uh, run an IV or something. Tests. An MRI? Something along those lines. Thank goodness the Med-Bay had a comprehensive medical database with flowcharts and an auto-doc. Jackson had always been better with the medical equipment than I was, but I was all that was left. I forgot that some times. The corridor twisted and turned and the Med-Bay finally came into view. I stepped through and set Deep down in the patient's chair. It was a bit dusty in here. I'd have to do some cleaning. Later, though, maybe before the guy with the plague got here. If he was coming. Thanks emergency siren. I looked down at Deep as I pushed a few buttons to get the machinery working, "Ok, Deep, I'm going to run a quick scan and figure out what all the Growlie did to you. Keep still, alright? The various bits and bobs whirred to life, scanning her for abnormalities, logging her vital signs, and creating a recommendation for a course of treatment. The latest and greatest in medical technology. Possibly the only thing like it left in this mad world. Hopefully she would sit still and let it all do what it needed to do. And not, uh, attack it for witchcraft or some nonsense.
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Nov 10, 2016 20:56
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 0-barter Jaym carries me into some white room and it smells funny. Like a bird. Anyways, he puts me into a large chair and I relax into the deep cushions. I look at him as he beepboops on some machine next to the chair, "Jaymie, gotannee snackins fa me?"
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Nov 10, 2016 23:23
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 0-armor | 0-barter Snacks. Snacks? Uh, geez. Not a lot of those on a highly experimental military boat. Not outside the galley, anyways. Always with the tough asks, this one. Hm. Well, I did see a couple of plastic cups on the shelf. I guess they must be for collecting... samples. Still in the wrap, though, so it should be sanitary enough. I grabbed one, filled it up with water from the sink, and handed it to her, "I'll get you something to eat in a minute or two, alright? Have some water in the mean time." There wasn't much water left in the tanks. Not potable stuff, anyways. I'd really need to figure something out sooner than later. A beeping from the console drew my attention away from Deep and I started tapping through various menus and read-outs trying to figure out what it was telling me. Tricky fucked around with this message at 23:49 on Nov 10, 2016 |
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Nov 10, 2016 23:47
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Cool +2 | Hard +1 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +0 Harm 0:00 | Exp 1/5 | 0-Armor | 4-Barter "Fine, fine," I wave my hand at Rev. "That is fine. You and your men shall have your barrel. It still does us well for us to support each other." Then I pause a moment, to glance out the westward window. Even though it is my duty to be the calm pillar of stability for all of us, the Demon's voice still sent a shiver down my back. Who out there wouldn't flinch at such a noise? Only the mad and the deaf. I turn back to Rev, doing my best to put on an unshakable expression once again. "I suppose that concludes our business, unless you had something else to ask. But before you go, Rev. You said, earlier, you had a plan for dealing with that Demon. Is that still true?"
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Nov 12, 2016 16:38
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The MedBay (Deep and Sinclair) As you’re examining the control panel Sinclair, you hear a now-familiar crunching noise that means you’re down a specimen cup. After a few minutes of whirs and beeps, the panel displays the scan results: *Multiple Minor Lacerations *Low-Levels Radiation Poisoning *Chronic Vitamin Deficiency Several panels slide open revealing wound-closures, tubes of healing creams, and bottle of chelators. The instructions indicate that a few days of drinking the antirad cocktails and keeping the wounds clean should lead to a full recovery. The Murrca’s water tastes almost as good as Raincatcher Deep, and comes with less sermons. The cup’s not bad either. Being poked and prodded by Jayms’ machines is a little annoying, but the Bright Lady keeps you company, even making faces at you while Jayms patches you up. A monitor blinks to life, showing a distance shot of the Fishers’ boats and the wreckage they were hiding behind. Except it seem the wreckage wasn’t uninhabited, and they’re now fending off ragged boarders. *Warning: hostile activity detected Raincatcher Rev looks better after you agree to supply him with water. A barrel won’t impact your stores, but Rev seems simple enough to view it as a political victory. At your question, he even smirks a little. “Oh ya Waterbearer. The Taking King didn’t take all o’ His toys, we snagged a brace o’ X-O-Set Demon-slayers out o’ His Armory. Said to be the same that He use to kill the Demon Stockdale in his youth.” He gives you an appraising look. “Got a couple o’ other heavies as well if you’d be interested. Purely to keep them out of the wrong hands, of course.” Rox Kit The explosion of your wayward grenade is lost in the echoes of the siren. The unexpected noise seems to have bought you a window, as the hunters are taking precious seconds looking around for the source instead of you. You get around a corner and out of sight, and maybe breathe a sigh of relief. Except there’s an angry hiss from the overhang that’s providing cover, and you are wrenched up and out of water and into darkness. You land in a heap, your rifle clattering a few feet away. In the gloom, a great hunched hisses at you, its tentacle-arms lashing in annoyance. “Shell-lady cause noise. Noise hurt Bobby-ears. Bobby hurt Shell-lady.”
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Nov 13, 2016 21:26
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 2-armor | 0-barter What was it with Deep? She was like a goat. Give her a fork and she'd start working her way through it. The panel's results were somewhat surprising, but, at the same time, not at all. Direct exposure for that long should have been lethal. Deep was Deep, though, and I was rapidly learning that she simply didn't work like I did. She probably ate radiation too. Decided to snack on the reactor. Maybe that was what the headset was talking about earlier. I sighed. The monitor caught my attention. poo poo. The Fishers were getting jumped. If they didn't make it back to their king, it wasn't a stretch to say that they'd assume the 'sea demon' killed them all. I didn't need that. Not yet, anyways, not until I had some friends to back me up. I'd need to act fast. If I took one of the zodiacs, I could be out there before the fight was over. I looked down at Deep, "Alright, kiddo, I need to go help those guys out. Are you going to be okay here?"
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Nov 14, 2016 02:04
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 0-barter I eagerly grab the cup of water from Jaym as he hands it to me. "Thankee Jaym!" I shout, before guzzling the water and chowing down on the cup. Hmm... tasties likem baggysnacks Jaymie had inna boxee. I shrug, resuming my meal. Shortly, the machine beeps and spits out some medical supplies. I eye them warily—they'll make for a good meal later on. However, the machine then beeps and flashes something at Jaym—lookee likem fitin!—and he suddenly looks concerned. He turns to me and asks me to wait patiently while he goes to save the Fishers. I shake my head avidly, "No Jaymie! Takee withya! I wanna go fitem!" I jump out of my chair, latching myself onto the man's leg, making it clear that I'm coming with him whether he likes it or not.
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Nov 17, 2016 03:37
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 1/5 | 2-armor | 0-barter Deep was like an anchor on my leg. Yep. This definitely rang a few bells. I could see Jackson out of the corner of my eyes silently laughing at my plight. I tried to shake her free, but that only seemed to make her grip tighter. This was it. This was the rest of my life. I was going to be stuck with a child attached to my leg. Well, Deep wasn't completely helpless. Certainly had managed to survive the apocalypse well enough before I got here. I started slowly working my way up towards the rafts. It wasn't easy. She was surprisingly dense. The stairs were especially awful and I was sweating when we finally reached the deck. Then I realized there was no way I could actually get the boat assembled and inflated with Deep keeping me in the leg-lock. I sighed, picturing Deep taking one of her various pointy objects to some sort of mutated goon, and then sighed again, harder, "Okay, okay. I get it, Deep. You can come with me. You gotta promise you'll stay safe. If it gets bad, make a run for it."
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Nov 17, 2016 04:00
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 1/5 | 1-armor | 0-barter Jaym tries to shake me off, to no avail, and finally gives way. I cheer, "Tanks Jaymie! I gonna fitemall!" I say, baring my teeth and fingernails. Then, I frown, "I dinna wanna be leftalonee in casa growlies showup." I hug the man around his legs, then follow him onto the deck.
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Nov 17, 2016 23:55
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Cool +2 | Hard +1 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +0 Harm 0:00 | Exp 1/5 | 0-Armor | 4-Barter "Ahem." I clear my throat loudly, cutting Rev off abruptly. If I let him keep going with that kind of talk he's probably just going to earn himself a drink of Salt for violating the Fourth. Or put me in a position where I might have to. "Rev, don't forget where you are," I say, shaking my head. "And think about how you speak." It's about as specific of a warning I can give. If I were more direct, then we'd both have to think a bit longer about whether or not what he just said was deceitful or not. And now is not the time for that. "But-" I clear my throat again, and speak very slowly. This is a delicate issue so I need to make sure to choose my words carefully. "With the way the tide of the world is flowing, it may be... wise of us to have those tools in reserve." I press my weathered fingers together, making the shape of a peak with my hands. "Heavens forbid that we use them, of course. But as I'm sure you know, it is our duty to be prepared for any scenario." And then I lean back, and steal a glance towards the doorway. I'm not really concerned with what Rev might think of this; he's clearly in favor and his opinion does not matter much in the grand scheme of things. But part of me wonders what the others of Cistern would think. It's not what Hightide would do. Not at all. Even with all the practical reasons to have weapons like that. "Guns just make you weak," he'd say. "We don't need things like that."
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Nov 18, 2016 05:51
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Cool+2, Hard+2, Hot-2, Sharp=0, Weird=0 Harm:0 Exp:2/5 My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but even still I could just barely make out the thing that'd yanked me out of e water. Any other time I'd feel sick from looking at the freak, at the moment however all I saw was another piece of poo poo making life difficult. I eyed where my gun had scattered off to. Too far away, it would have to wait. "I didn't make the noise, you slimy gently caress." I paused, thinking of an appropriate target to shift the blame to. "I was trying to get away from the idiots that did. I've been running from them all day and I'm pretty loving tired of it. So if you don't move your rear end right now, Bobby is gonna go bye-bye." I punctuate the point by pulling out my pistol. "You get me?" Going Aggro with a Threat!: 9 Brainamp fucked around with this message at 20:22 on Nov 19, 2016 |
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Nov 19, 2016 19:53
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Deep and Sinclair Luckily, the aft deck is clear enough to get the zodiac inflated and into the water without much issue. The motor sputters to life in a cloud of smoke, and you head towards the fight. As you get closer, you can see the boarders more closely. Covered in open sores and wet rags, wielding bits of rebar and makeshift knives, they crawl over the Fishers’ boats while screaming nonsense and gibberish. The few guns o the Fishers would make quick work of them, if they were using them. Oddly enough the Fishers are being extraordinarily defensive, most are using poles and tools to keep the boarders at bay. Except for the Fisher-of-Men. She stands in the center of a protective circle of Fishers, laughing and firing her rifle into the horde. Each hit kills a foe spectacularly, but its a single-shot rifle and there are alot of foes. What do you do? The Salt-drinker horde is a Large gang (2-harm 0-armor). The Fishers aren’t trying to inflict harm, and Fisher-of-Men’s rifle can’t overcome the bonus armor of the size difference. Raincatcher Rev holds up his hands in apology. “I misspoke Waterbearer, ‘pologies. Its been awhile since I rested my head, Motrpull took alot o’grease to pull together. But aye, we hold the Armory, and would be happy to work with Cistern on defensive matters. We’ll be holdin’ onto the Demon-Slayers, but there’s enough plunder from Stockdale’s corpse to trade for. Big ratatats, boom tossers, and a double fists-full of handstuff.” He looks at you speculatively. “Even got some hitech lookiloo gear that might work better on the high ground. Could bring that bit around for a ‘nother barrel, though you’d have to find a monkey to hook it up.” From deeper in the Cistern, you can hear the sound of raised voices. Distant, but sound carries in the Cistern. The brute Rev brought with him cocks his to the side and smiles. “Youse gots some personal probs Mister Waterbearer sirrah, sommon’s wettin’ dere wick inna wrong oil.” What do you do? Rox Kit The misshapen mass that is Bobby shudders at the sight of your pistol and backs up, drawing its tentacles close to its ‘body’. “Ahno, Bobby sorry-speak. Bobby not know Shell-lady is Gun-lady. Gun-lady can leave, Bobby not hurt. Can use Out-door, goes to People-area.” A tentacle-tip waves to a back corner, and your eyes can pick out the outline of a rusty metal door. Its slightly ajar, and is there a slight glimmer of light around it? It would take you closer to Bobby though. What do you do? Bobby has told you something you want to hear
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Nov 20, 2016 19:23
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Cool +3 | Hard +1 | Hot =0 | Sharp +1 | Weird -1 Harm 0:00 | Experience: 2/5 | 2-armor | 0-barter I looked over at Deep and pointed to the off-board motor's handle, "Keep us steady, I'm going to give that scary lady a little support." I knelt to a slightly more steady position, such as it was on the bumpy sea, and looked at the horde through my rifle's scope. It was unusual that only Fisher-of-Men was fighting back. It looked like the Fishers were in real trouble, but they weren't using their guns. I'd at least provide a bit of fire support while we continued in closer. I'd avoid vitals and focus on opening an avenue for the Fishers to escape, though, no sense stepping on some sort of unwritten rule. It might be that these people were their friends or relatives or something. Some sort of temporary madness. Like Jackson. quote:SidekickBOT - Today at 9:46 AM
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Nov 20, 2016 20:02
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Cool+2, Hard+2, Hot-2, Sharp=0, Weird=0 Harm:0 Exp:3/5 "Smart move, Bobby." I said, coldly. I could barely pick out the makeshift door past the freak. All I had was its word, but it did seem smart enough to not try anything while I had the gun. Keeping my weapon trained on the thing's fleshy bits, I toed my way over to where my launcher was. I briefly considered loading it and turning the abomination into a stain. Wouldn't have helped me in anyway, but it would have felt good. With my gun back in my possession I took one last glance towards the mumbling freak, then bolted to the door. Maybe I was being hasty, but I desperately needed to leave this area before anything else tried to kill me.
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Nov 20, 2016 23:22
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Cool +2 | Hard +1 | Hot -1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +0 Harm 0:00 | Exp 1/5 | 0-Armor | 4-Barter Demon-Slayers, ratatats, boom tossers... double fists-full of handstuff... Even got some hitech lookiloo gear... As Rev starts listing off all of his weapons, I suddenly start to feel a dull, painful ache in my head. And the more I feel it, the more unpleasant and savage his words start to sound. A smell even starts to manifest in my nose, the smell of Salt. Like olden times. "On second thought -- nevermind," I say to Rev, putting my hand up in the air. "It wouldn't be proper." ...It would be almost downright barbaric, wouldn't it? Could you imagine, Cistern covered in guns like we were some kind of warband? Clearly there is some need for practicality, but if that means lowering ourselves to that kind of level, there must be another way! Plus, Waterbearer... if it really came down to that, you know that you have a weapon that could be much more powerful than any one gun... "Anyway." I shake my head, driving away any and all devilish thoughts. "I believe that concludes our-" Then we are interrupted by the sound of a distant commotion -- something is wrong within Cistern. "Excuse me," I say, turning away and brushing off the irritating smile that Rev's muscle is giving. "I have to see what is wrong."
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Nov 23, 2016 02:32
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Cool =0 | Hard -1 | Hot +1 | Sharp +1 | Weird +2 Harm 3:00 | Exp: 2/5 | 1-armor | 0-barter Jaym unpacks the puffboat and we take off towards the Fishiemen. As we pull close, it's clear there's a big fight going on. The Fishiemen are being swarmed by dirty people, and for some reason aren't attacking. However there is one 'Scariladee' in the middle, as Jaym calls her, so I focus my attention there. She's holding them off with a biggun, shooting them as they get close, but it looks like the Fishiemen will be overrun if they don't fight back. "Whyems nofiting back, Jaym?" I wonder aloud, "Dems gotta fite backer dey gonna be bugbait! Da bugmen arall ova dem!" Jaym shouts at me to hold the boat steady, so I do as he starts taking shots of his own. I watch as he and Scariladee take down the bugmen one by one, but the swarm only seems to be growing. Their numbers swell, and I study them in fascinating detail, I can feel my consciousness start to fade, my fingers on the wheel the only things keeping me grounded. [1:48 PM] Deep-AlphaFerg: deep is going to open her brain to the world's psychic maelstrom [1:48 PM] Deep-AlphaFerg: /r 2d6+2 [1:48 PM] BOTSidekick: @Deep-AlphaFerg: 2d6+2 = (5+1)+2 = 8 Marking experience
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Nov 23, 2016 22:49
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 19:24 |
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Raincatcher Rev waves as you take your leave, a parody of regal magnanimousness. “Aye, I know how bossman stuff goes. If you ever need to chat, we’ve taken the Armory.” He leaves, his man watching you with a smug knowing in his eye. Your ears take you to the mess, where the Storm-shift would be finishing up their breakfast. If most of them weren’t slid to the walls, wary eyes on a trio in the center of the room. Your ward Jay stands between to women, striking his best peacemaker stance. You see the pumper Fina, shock and dismay written on her face. And the prayer-speaker Aloe, accusing finger waving between the other two “Don’t you dare break the Fifth to my face Fina!” Aloe’s voice is rising in anger and volume. “I know you and Jay have been walkin’ behind my back! I saw you weren’t at your post last night, were you too busy fuckin’ him?” Fina’s protests of innocence are drowned out by Aloe’s cries of triumph as she sees you. “My Waterbearer! Please I beg your justice! This… liar has broken our binding vows with your Jay!” What do you do? Rox Kit The door leads to a rusty stairwell, and you rise up several floors unmolested. You’re fairly sure you hear Bobby’s squishy tread below you, but he has the good sense to stay far behind. The stairwell leads to an open space in the spire, several floors converted into an open marketplace. Have you been here before? The post-Rain crush is beginning to fill the place up, and you see no signs of the black-clad hunters. You do see the bridge to the next spire across the way, where an entire wall has been removed to improve air- and people-flow. Between you and it though, is some sort of commotion. A group of leather-thugs waving their arms at a few Fishers selling their catch. The dull murmur of the crowd keeps the words from you, but you recognize a shakedown when you see it. What do you do? Specialist Sinclair Deep keeps the zodiac fairly stable, although she does continue to jabber on. But her voice is already fading as you focus on the battle before you. Even with your training, you almost miss the enemy’s surge in the chaotic battle. But you catch it at the last moment, and your shouted warning means Fisher-of-Men catches a knife on her arm instead of her neck. The thunder of your rifle-fire overwhelms everything for a moment, and bodies drop into the water. The Fishers take the opportunity to push off the remaining boarders and put some distance between themselves and the rubble. The water is full of thrashing bodies, but they don’t seem coordinated enough to follow en masse. You see Guido waving at you from the bow of his boat, Fisher-of Men slumped against his leg. “Thankee Brightman Sinclair, the Salt-drinkers nearly had us. Fisher-of-Men is bleeding fiercely, does the Demon consent to angeling her? What do you do? The Salt-drinkers are temporarily incapacitated, you’re free to leave or sucker them. Deep The clatter of Jayms’ ratatat fades into the crashing of waves and distant thunder. You can see the balance of the world, Rain and Salt. Jayms and Scariladee. Fishers and Salt-drinkers. And the great Beast o’Change behind you, its challenge bringing creatures of Salt out of their dark holes. They crave the darkness, but the Salt drives them forth anyways. The Salt will continue to rise until the Beast is overcome or the Rain wins out. You feel the Beast’s eyes on you, weighing your soul. Is it pleased with what it finds? What do you do?
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Nov 25, 2016 23:08
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