Cutter, annoyed at the marshal, turns and says to him, "You should be lucky we're here. If we weren't you'd be all alone up against hell knows what. I think it'd be best if you kept your mouth shut and went with the flow."
Turning to Terrence, he says a bit more calmly, though obviously still annoyed with the marshal, "So, we know there are 3 of them behind that door. What else do you know? Are they armed, expecting us, or what?"
"Oh. That's slightly reassuring. Only slightly, keh." He looked at her gun, it wasn't that impressive. Maybe she'd surprise us all, Dustin thought. But then again there were a lot of maybes going on. This could be a problem.
Responding to Cutter's comments to the Marshal, Dustin chimes in. "Yea, Old Man think they'll be sporting fancy pieces like yours or the lady over there? I bet they've got full automatic minis with quad tracing self-correcting wetware. We make that, see?" Dustin says, and adjusts his positioning.
Terrence's face is tight with concentration, lips pursed, eyes narrow. There are voices around him, but they're unclear, distant. He can only barely hear Cutter's question.
"Hard to say. Think they're fooled. Overconfident. Not ready to fight. No promises."
The cutting torch stopped with a fizzle, and there was a reverberating hum as the linkbreaker powered down, it's anti-magnetic services no longer required. A vaguely circular section of the hatchway fell to the floor, and soon afterwards three men stepped through the opening.
They're all wearing cheap plate armour, and none of them are actually bothering to hold their weapons. They do, however, appear to have holsters and one of them has a rifle slung over his shoulder. They chuckle to themselves as they examine the airlock's (apparently empty) surroundings.
"Alright ladies," sneers one with broken teeth, "time to get your purses out. We need a tip."
Cutter let's out a light sigh as he hears the voices of the raiders. He still can't see them, but knowing they are about to appear, he reaches behind him and removes his "bat" from it's harness and holds it in his right hand with the base of it resting on the ground.
Cutter stands in the aisle ready to attack if the circumstances call for it. He looks at Terrence and nods to let him know he's ready.
Dustin's HUD displays the name of the song he's listening to, the soft beat of the occasional drum strumming up as the violins slowly played. Dustin's body tenses, and his face relaxes slightly.
The Gibson informs him that Imogen is ready for action, and has been configured to use an old macro of his. The armor they were wearing seems to suggests that he wouldn't need to use it though. The crescendo held, the music playing in his head continuing to build up until that one blissful moment of chaos.
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"Back there, in the maintenance room." Cutter jerks his head back without taking his eyes off the raiders. "They all panicked and we didn't want anyone causing problems for you, so we figured it'd be easier to get them out of your way. The crew is still in the cockpit up front."
If I need to make a roll to try to convince them of this, which is all true, just not the whole truth, let me know and I'll throw it in here.
Lining the shot up as if he were aiming at the merc's "heart", Dustin says rather quietly "Here goes..."
The chorus kicks in as Imogen receives the command to fire at the last raider in the corridor. With a little twitch of the wrist several microseconds later the Gibson forcefully spasms his his wrist into a position to closely match the angle of fire from Imogen as he depresses the physical trigger of Cutter's gun.
Imogen's burst fires silently, followed by Cutters gun's more audible discharge sound as Dustin attempts to go back under cover.
OOC: I told you this would happen, Ed. :P But I figured out that those rolls are correct. It only took me 2 more times to realize that it just repeats the string for each roll ._.
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
The raider is thrown violently to the floor, the pistol flying from his hand. He survived the shots, but the injury will keep him down for a good while.
The other two men are understandably shocked, and they spin towards the direction of fire, desperately groping for their own weapons.
Noticing the attention is no longer on him and has been turned to Dustin, Cutter grabs his "bat" with both hands, raises it above his head in a manner that spells doom for the recipient, and charges at the closest raider. Surprisingly fast for a man of his size, Cutter is able to close the distance and without slowing down swings with all his might at the raider.
10+7+3=20 If you think I should get a additional +1 or so because I'm charging at full speed add that on. Didn't occur to me til I read my own post.
The complete and utter incompetence of the raiders was almost disarming. Once again, Stephen thought, his confidence in the stupidity of others prevailed. He listened as the first shots rang off, and Cutter charged and attacked. Stephen swung around the seat and fired one weak blast from his stun gun at the raider with the rifle, then slumped back behind the cover of the seat.
The goons don't know what hit them. Terrence barely knows what hit them. He hears the shooting start, drops the illusion, and peeks out to take a shot of his own.
Still clinging to the cockpit's wall, Cyril turns to co-pilot and whispers "Shut this door once I leave.". He says this in almost bemused way- not surprising considering his attempts to get in earlier, but odd considering what is occurring outside.
With that, Cyril lurched out the cockpit door and headed down the isle. Hastily waddling between aisles in an attempt to get closer to the frenzied raiders.
The man has time to look up before his ribs crack and his lungs decompress as the human juggernaut ploughs in to him: he's slammed into the wall with such force that his breastplate cracks. He's down for the count, and close to death.
His fellow raider was still scanning the area for Terrence when a salvo of shots screamed towards him from all directions. He's caught off guard and has no opportunity to dodge...
All things considered, he's lucky. He spasms briefly in mid air as the various bolts and beams pepper his torso, yet they all fail to penetrate his armour. The sheer volume of fire is, however, more than enough to bruise and batter and neurologically shock him into unconsciousness.
Cyril watches the three men fall to a mixture of superior firepower and their own overconfidence (and one very large "bat") and, for a moment, counts himself lucky that he avoided that chaotic exchange.
He freezes at the doorway when he hears more footsteps.
Just one pair of footsteps this time. Big, heavy footsteps that stomp onto the floor to the accompaniment of a great deal of rattling armour.
Cyril spies a truly massive raider squeezing his hulking form through the hole in the airlock. He's over a foot taller than Cutter, and he's virtually spherical: but it's hard to tell whether that's down to body fat or layer upon layer of armour.
It doesn't take a SHARD operative to realise that this thing isn't a base-human: he's a Gef. A very bulky, undoubtedly powerful Gef, slowly advancing down the airlock corridor.
One hand is encased in rugged metal- some sort of gauntlet, studded with spikes and other jagged protrusions. The other is casually toting a pistol so gigantic that it would be a cannon in smaller hands.
"Hell yeah!" Dustin says to no one in particular as he ducks behind the chair and the others take shots. Grinning like a maniac, the mask of emotion hides his clear frustration at himself over his last two shots.
Sure, they hit their mark and did their purpose, but the efficiency of placement was less than optimal, according to the Gibson's analysis. What the hell was that? He thinks to himself while breathing heavily and excitedly. A hush falls over the room, Dustin's ears picking up on the sounds of the raider's ragged, gurgling breaths. Death would come soon for them.
"Pew! Pew! Pew! See that?" Dustin says "Smoked them, ya?"
The fight was far from over though, as it sounded like a new contender was approaching.
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Cyril stops and slowly begins to back away from the doorway, while walking backwards he crouches down and hides amongst the seats in the side aisle closest to him. He pulls his arm slightly back and holds his sword horizontally so it won 't be seen from outside the aisle.
Thoughts begin to race through his mind on how to handle the situation. But all result with the hulking raider either cracking open his skull or ribcage with his gauntlet or blasting a hole through any vital part of his body.
Cyril he hopes some will distract him so he can attack from behind- he surmises that any shots fired will merely be absorbed by the behemoth and he won't have to worry about cross-fire.
The fracas is over almost as soon as it had begun. The three raiders are down, and Terrence lets out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His senses return to normal and he hears something else stomping slowly towards the hatch. It sounds ominous. It sounds like he's going to need some more firepower. The raider closest to him had been holding some kind of photon pistol. Terrence looks at his P-shooter and then at the slightly more impressive pistol lying in the aisle. He returns his gun to its home beneath his jacket. The stomping is getting louder, closer, but not faster. He has time. He dashes out, scoops up the pistol, and returns to cover.
Now, to see what he can find out about the new threat, assuming that's what it is. Oh I hope it's not a robot...
Empathic Sense check "What is that thing?": 1d20 + 6 (Willpower) + 2 (Sense): 19
Dustin eyes the guns on the floor that the raiders were carrying. His eye catches the prize of them all, the rifle.
"Upgrade, ya~" he says, in a bizarre tone as he crouch-runs, surprisingly fast and well for someone of his mundane occupation to grab it and return to his position.
He deepens his voice as he lets out another "Pew!" then proceeds to update his interface with information pertaining to this weapon.
Cutter feels the crunch of bone in the raiders chest as he connects with his swing. The man goes down instantly and it's obvious he isn't getting up for a while.
He returns his "bat" to it's holster and begins to crack his knuckles when...
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Removing his "bat" once again and getting ready for another fight, he looks to Terrence, "You hear that? Can you sense what that is?"
Terrence senses a mind- this is no robot. It's a male Gef, a Gef who seems to be strangely relaxed about the situation, examining the airlock's corridor as if he was a tourist without a care in the world. Terrence's earlier suggestion must have reached him, inspiring the Gef with some of the arrogance that had been the undoing of the first three raiders.
The mind is more complicated than Terrence might have thought- if anything, this Gef is brighter than the trio of mooks who preceded him- and like most members of his species this Gef has significant psionic resistance. No doubt he'd prove harder to affect than the other raiders.
"It's a Gef. A smart one at that. This won't be easy." Terrence says. To emphasize the point he sinks down further below his cover. He considers trying to plant a suggestion in its head, but decides against it. It's already calm; he doesn't want to run the risk of breaking that influence.
Arqin 6F-Z Scatter Rifle
Generic photonic diffuser
Pump-action (firing core directly interfaces with reserve core)
Max 2 shots per post
Damage Capacity 15
+6 DC at very close range
-6 DC at anything beyond medium range
Special: deals an additional 1T damage for all damage levels, excepting damage nullification.
At very close range, deals an additional 1N damage for all damage levels, excepting damage nullification.
Armour weakness: the scatter rifle is powerful but ill-suited against armour. Armour bonuses are doubled when defending against this weapon.
(You would not be able to go beyond "medium" range in the ship, so for the purposes of this scenario the basic DC can not be lower than 15).
Dustin's new "toy" is a scatter rifle, and a fairly good brand of scatter rifle at that- an Arqin 6F-Z, a favourite of colonists facing dangerous fauna, and named after the star system it was first utilised in. They're intended for close-ranged devastation of unarmoured opponents, but even armoured foes would feel the kick of such a powerful weapon.
Dustin looks up and to the aft of the ship at Cutter. Tossing the weapon from this distance seems to be bad idea. Placing the rifle down on his chair he then swiftly moves from his position and back to the bodies. Looking down at them, he wonders if they're dead or not. Not that it matters, he could always fix that later. He suppresses the grin at the thought.
At a more reasonable distance he tosses Cutter's gun back to him, and then shrugs and mutters "What the hell, na?" grabbing the other pistol on the ground before he runs back into place. Once back at the safety of his position, he smells his hand. Ugh...
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Catching the gun Cutter watches Dustin run back to his new rifle. He attaches his "bat" to it's holster and reloads the fire core back to full, and starts to move back from the doorway in anticipation of the Gef.
He sits down in a seat, not even bothering to try to conceal himself futher, and aims his gun at the doorway. He let's out a sigh showing his utter disgust of having to resort to using a gun.
The Gef stops at the opening between economy and first class, and after some hesitation, steps into the economy department's doorway, exposing his back to Cyril.
The marshal, having felt like a spare part in the first clash, readies his PG 375.
The huge raider notices the three bodies almost immediately. His eyes betray shock and rage, but the rest of his face is obscured by a mask or raised collar of some description.
In one impossibly smooth motion, he points his bulbous sidearm at Cutter and pulls the trigger.
This guy is incredibly fast for his size.
Cutter has to beat 19 with an Agility roll, or face a Health check, DC10 (remember, you get a +3 Armour bonus to your Health check because of all the seats blocking his view).
Unless Cutter critically fails, he can attack twice in his next post, because strictly speaking he's already got his gun readied (i.e., he's firing the moment he sees the Gef, and then again after the Gef fires).
The Gef steps into the door, notices the bodies, then notices Cutter. At this point Cutter has fired his first shot, not a moment after Cutter sees the Gef fire his gun at him, and Cutter then fires his Gun again.
I realised this would be an automatic pass: Cutter has 7 Health, and a +3 armour bonus because of all the cover, which is 10 (the same as the Gef's firepower roll).
He takes one point of temporary damage, reducing his Health to 6 for the duration of this conflict.
No sooner than Dustin reaches his seat, the Gef appears. Dustin flomps into place, knocking the rifle out of his chair and reach. "Keh!" He shifts to try and pick it up again before realizing that he has the pistol at hand already. He hesitates a bit more, then sighs and takes aim with the pistol.
The Gibson's wetware is barely able to complete its calculations and adjustments to his sync-macro before he fires off the well-aimed, yet sloppy looking shots at the Gef's back. Ducking back into cover, he looks for where the rifle went.
Terrence peers through the narrow gaps between the seats as he waits. He can't see much, but he can hear the Gef getting closer. Its massive bulk eclipses the gap for an unsettlingly long time and then the shooting starts again. He hears shots hit home, although who the targets were is unclear. There's no time for fancy moves, and all he can do is take his shot.
1d20 + 5: 6 Allow me to apologize to whichever teammate I just shot by accident :P
The Gef moves like lightning- he leans to his right, trying to obscure as much of his body as possible behind the doorframe.
The luckless Terrence's shot hits the wall a few feet from the marshal's legs, much to the man's shock. Alliah and Dustin manage to hit the towering raider, but their fire can only strike the Gef in his shoulder and arm, limiting what would've otherwise been potentially fatal wounds.
Overall damage: 2 temporary (capped by Agility save).
Dustin's latest find appears to have no effect on the Gef, but Imogen bites through the raider's armour like... uh... a searing beam of light through flesh. Amazingly, despite being the weapon with the lowest overall wattage, Alliah's aging photon pistol does itself proud, ripping a small chunk out of the Gef's shoulder.
Even though his gun arm is smouldering and bleeding profusely, the Gef pokes it around the corner at the nearest target- the marshal.
Bloody hell he's fast. Terrence curses as his shot goes extremely wide. Happily, it misses - barely, but still misses - the marshal. He's about to apologize, or at least look apologetic, when the Gef's shot takes the marshal down. Terrence looks away. The Gef, bleeding and trailing a thin wisp of smoke, turns to make a hasty retreat.
Not so fast.
Terrence lets out a pained moan. He's heard enough people just clinging on to life and sanity that he knows how that sounds. "Help me..." He rasps. One of your friends is still alive, buddy. Save him!
Telepathy (Suggestion) "Save your friend! He's not quite dead yet!": 1d20 + 6: 10 Boo. :x
Of course, Stephen cursed under his breath, it's never quite that easy, is it? Additionally, the newest contender illustrated a point that Stephen had overlooked. If you just happen to be enormous enough and well-enough equipped, it will barely even matter how dumb you are, and this guy was big. Stephen didn't have enough time to come up with any more clever derogatory remarks, however, before the shooting started up again.
Unlike the last three, this one had a semblance of what he was doing. Stephen cursed again two more times as Cutter took a shot, and then the Marshal was laid out flat. Cutter was a big guy, Stephen thought to himself, the Marshal was older, and that shot wasn't anything frivolous. Ripping his surgical kit from his briefcase, Stephen peered around the edge of the seat just in time to see the Gef retreat into the airlock. Now was as good a time as any other, he figured, and unlatching his kit he flung himself down the aisle, landing on his knees in front of the marshal with the kit open next to him. Ripping out a strip of gauze, he assessed the marshal's condition. "You doing alright, old guy?"
Medical attention (however that works, as I realize we didn't actually discuss it): 1d20 + 3 (med) + 3 (kit) + 8 (int, right?) = 31?? Did I do that right? I think I just improved his life span by a couple of years.
Cyril emerges quickly from the side aisle as the chaos begins to come to an end. He rises to face the fleeing Gef, his alien-like mask stares at the Gef blankly, when he suddenly uses his his morph blade to slash at the gef's face at a downward slant into the raider's torso.
Jumping slightly off the ground as he does so. Either to enhance the attack or, based on what he said earlier to the cabin boy, in some vain attempt to not get blood on his suit.
Posts
Turning to Terrence, he says a bit more calmly, though obviously still annoyed with the marshal, "So, we know there are 3 of them behind that door. What else do you know? Are they armed, expecting us, or what?"
Responding to Cutter's comments to the Marshal, Dustin chimes in. "Yea, Old Man think they'll be sporting fancy pieces like yours or the lady over there? I bet they've got full automatic minis with quad tracing self-correcting wetware. We make that, see?" Dustin says, and adjusts his positioning.
Passive monitoring check: 1d20+7 → [14,7] = (21)
*queues horrible failure at actual combat rolls* >_>
"Hard to say. Think they're fooled. Overconfident. Not ready to fight. No promises."
The cutting torch stopped with a fizzle, and there was a reverberating hum as the linkbreaker powered down, it's anti-magnetic services no longer required. A vaguely circular section of the hatchway fell to the floor, and soon afterwards three men stepped through the opening.
They're all wearing cheap plate armour, and none of them are actually bothering to hold their weapons. They do, however, appear to have holsters and one of them has a rifle slung over his shoulder. They chuckle to themselves as they examine the airlock's (apparently empty) surroundings.
"Alright ladies," sneers one with broken teeth, "time to get your purses out. We need a tip."
The other two laugh at the first's "joke".
They seem utterly oblivious to the potential threat.
Cutter stands in the aisle ready to attack if the circumstances call for it. He looks at Terrence and nods to let him know he's ready.
The Gibson informs him that Imogen is ready for action, and has been configured to use an old macro of his. The armor they were wearing seems to suggests that he wouldn't need to use it though. The crescendo held, the music playing in his head continuing to build up until that one blissful moment of chaos.
Still nothing. But they're getting closer.
She'll follow another's lead on this one.
"Hellooo? Ladies? It's not polite to keep the staff waiting..."
Their footsteps can be heard slowly padding across to the open door. They step through.
Even though the marshal is just two metres from the closest raider, none of the men spot him, let alone the people crouching behind the seats.
"The place is fucking empty," one says, suddenly a lot less sure of himself.
"Where the hell...?"
"Did the boss have us tractor a fucking ghost ship?"
But even they can't fail to miss Cutter.
"Wait, who's the lump?"
"Hey, you, where the fuck is everybody?"
"Yeah, you better tell us where our haul is!" One of them begins to reach for his holster. "Otherwise you'll regret it...."
"What, so why did they leave you behind?"
"Yeah, couldn't they stand to look at you?"
One of the men shudders. "Guys, the freak is creeping me out. Let's just shoot the ugly bastard and check the lockers."
"Sounds like a plan." The man at the back unhurriedly unholsters his firearm...
The chorus kicks in as Imogen receives the command to fire at the last raider in the corridor. With a little twitch of the wrist several microseconds later the Gibson forcefully spasms his his wrist into a position to closely match the angle of fire from Imogen as he depresses the physical trigger of Cutter's gun.
Imogen's burst fires silently, followed by Cutters gun's more audible discharge sound as Dustin attempts to go back under cover.
1d20+10;1d20+10 → [1,10] = (11)
1d20+10;1d20+10 → [8,10] = (18)
OOC: I told you this would happen, Ed. :P But I figured out that those rolls are correct. It only took me 2 more times to realize that it just repeats the string for each roll ._.
Imogen (12)
Result = 2 normal damage.
The raider is thrown violently to the floor, the pistol flying from his hand. He survived the shots, but the injury will keep him down for a good while.
The other two men are understandably shocked, and they spin towards the direction of fire, desperately groping for their own weapons.
Noticing the attention is no longer on him and has been turned to Dustin, Cutter grabs his "bat" with both hands, raises it above his head in a manner that spells doom for the recipient, and charges at the closest raider. Surprisingly fast for a man of his size, Cutter is able to close the distance and without slowing down swings with all his might at the raider.
BLAM!
The old pistol still has some surprising kick.
Accuracy: 1d20 + 7(focus) = 9 (ouch...well, he's a man of science)
With that, Cyril lurched out the cockpit door and headed down the isle. Hastily waddling between aisles in an attempt to get closer to the frenzied raiders.
Damage: 2N (base 1N + charge bonus)
The man has time to look up before his ribs crack and his lungs decompress as the human juggernaut ploughs in to him: he's slammed into the wall with such force that his breastplate cracks. He's down for the count, and close to death.
His fellow raider was still scanning the area for Terrence when a salvo of shots screamed towards him from all directions. He's caught off guard and has no opportunity to dodge...
Damage: 1T
Raider fails Health check versus Stephen's stun gun (4 versus DC12)
Damage: 1T, KO'd.
Raider passes Health check versus Terrence's shot (12 versus DC9)
Damage: 1T
All things considered, he's lucky. He spasms briefly in mid air as the various bolts and beams pepper his torso, yet they all fail to penetrate his armour. The sheer volume of fire is, however, more than enough to bruise and batter and neurologically shock him into unconsciousness.
Cyril watches the three men fall to a mixture of superior firepower and their own overconfidence (and one very large "bat") and, for a moment, counts himself lucky that he avoided that chaotic exchange.
He freezes at the doorway when he hears more footsteps.
Just one pair of footsteps this time. Big, heavy footsteps that stomp onto the floor to the accompaniment of a great deal of rattling armour.
Cyril spies a truly massive raider squeezing his hulking form through the hole in the airlock. He's over a foot taller than Cutter, and he's virtually spherical: but it's hard to tell whether that's down to body fat or layer upon layer of armour.
It doesn't take a SHARD operative to realise that this thing isn't a base-human: he's a Gef. A very bulky, undoubtedly powerful Gef, slowly advancing down the airlock corridor.
One hand is encased in rugged metal- some sort of gauntlet, studded with spikes and other jagged protrusions. The other is casually toting a pistol so gigantic that it would be a cannon in smaller hands.
Sure, they hit their mark and did their purpose, but the efficiency of placement was less than optimal, according to the Gibson's analysis. What the hell was that? He thinks to himself while breathing heavily and excitedly. A hush falls over the room, Dustin's ears picking up on the sounds of the raider's ragged, gurgling breaths. Death would come soon for them.
"Pew! Pew! Pew! See that?" Dustin says "Smoked them, ya?"
The fight was far from over though, as it sounded like a new contender was approaching.
Thoughts begin to race through his mind on how to handle the situation. But all result with the hulking raider either cracking open his skull or ribcage with his gauntlet or blasting a hole through any vital part of his body.
Cyril he hopes some will distract him so he can attack from behind- he surmises that any shots fired will merely be absorbed by the behemoth and he won't have to worry about cross-fire.
Now, to see what he can find out about the new threat, assuming that's what it is. Oh I hope it's not a robot...
"Upgrade, ya~" he says, in a bizarre tone as he crouch-runs, surprisingly fast and well for someone of his mundane occupation to grab it and return to his position.
He deepens his voice as he lets out another "Pew!" then proceeds to update his interface with information pertaining to this weapon.
Checking out the rifle: 1d20+7 → [6,7] = (13)
Cutter feels the crunch of bone in the raiders chest as he connects with his swing. The man goes down instantly and it's obvious he isn't getting up for a while.
He returns his "bat" to it's holster and begins to crack his knuckles when...
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Removing his "bat" once again and getting ready for another fight, he looks to Terrence, "You hear that? Can you sense what that is?"
Terrence senses a mind- this is no robot. It's a male Gef, a Gef who seems to be strangely relaxed about the situation, examining the airlock's corridor as if he was a tourist without a care in the world. Terrence's earlier suggestion must have reached him, inspiring the Gef with some of the arrogance that had been the undoing of the first three raiders.
The mind is more complicated than Terrence might have thought- if anything, this Gef is brighter than the trio of mooks who preceded him- and like most members of his species this Gef has significant psionic resistance. No doubt he'd prove harder to affect than the other raiders.
Generic photonic diffuser
Pump-action (firing core directly interfaces with reserve core)
Max 2 shots per post
Damage Capacity 15
+6 DC at very close range
-6 DC at anything beyond medium range
Special: deals an additional 1T damage for all damage levels, excepting damage nullification.
At very close range, deals an additional 1N damage for all damage levels, excepting damage nullification.
Armour weakness: the scatter rifle is powerful but ill-suited against armour. Armour bonuses are doubled when defending against this weapon.
(You would not be able to go beyond "medium" range in the ship, so for the purposes of this scenario the basic DC can not be lower than 15).
Dustin's new "toy" is a scatter rifle, and a fairly good brand of scatter rifle at that- an Arqin 6F-Z, a favourite of colonists facing dangerous fauna, and named after the star system it was first utilised in. They're intended for close-ranged devastation of unarmoured opponents, but even armoured foes would feel the kick of such a powerful weapon.
Extending his hand to Dustin, "Can I get my gun back? Don't think I wanna go hand to hand with a Gef right off."
At a more reasonable distance he tosses Cutter's gun back to him, and then shrugs and mutters "What the hell, na?" grabbing the other pistol on the ground before he runs back into place. Once back at the safety of his position, he smells his hand. Ugh...
He sits down in a seat, not even bothering to try to conceal himself futher, and aims his gun at the doorway. He let's out a sigh showing his utter disgust of having to resort to using a gun.
The Gef stops at the opening between economy and first class, and after some hesitation, steps into the economy department's doorway, exposing his back to Cyril.
The marshal, having felt like a spare part in the first clash, readies his PG 375.
The huge raider notices the three bodies almost immediately. His eyes betray shock and rage, but the rest of his face is obscured by a mask or raised collar of some description.
In one impossibly smooth motion, he points his bulbous sidearm at Cutter and pulls the trigger.
Cutter has to beat 19 with an Agility roll, or face a Health check, DC10 (remember, you get a +3 Armour bonus to your Health check because of all the seats blocking his view).
Unless Cutter critically fails, he can attack twice in his next post, because strictly speaking he's already got his gun readied (i.e., he's firing the moment he sees the Gef, and then again after the Gef fires).
Cutter's two photon bolts pass the Gef's single plasma blast and a split second later the two men flinch as they take their respective hits.
Result: 2 temporary damage
He takes one point of temporary damage, reducing his Health to 6 for the duration of this conflict.
The Gibson's wetware is barely able to complete its calculations and adjustments to his sync-macro before he fires off the well-aimed, yet sloppy looking shots at the Gef's back. Ducking back into cover, he looks for where the rifle went.
Attack Rolls:
1d20+10 → [7,10] = (17)
1d20+10 → [16,10] = (26)
Roll 1 is Imogen (17), roll 2 the pistol (26). I've yet to roll over 10 using Imogen >|
She scrambles across a couple seats to get a better position, then leans out, just as a blast rings out from Dustin's direction.
BLAM!
(DC8 pistol)
The Gef moves like lightning- he leans to his right, trying to obscure as much of his body as possible behind the doorframe.
The luckless Terrence's shot hits the wall a few feet from the marshal's legs, much to the man's shock. Alliah and Dustin manage to hit the towering raider, but their fire can only strike the Gef in his shoulder and arm, limiting what would've otherwise been potentially fatal wounds.
Gef's Health check versus Alliah's DC8 pistol (8)Barely Passed
Overall damage: 2 temporary (capped by Agility save).
Dustin's latest find appears to have no effect on the Gef, but Imogen bites through the raider's armour like... uh... a searing beam of light through flesh. Amazingly, despite being the weapon with the lowest overall wattage, Alliah's aging photon pistol does itself proud, ripping a small chunk out of the Gef's shoulder.
Even though his gun arm is smouldering and bleeding profusely, the Gef pokes it around the corner at the nearest target- the marshal.
Result: 2 normal damage to marshal
The ugly weapon spits blinding fire at the marshal, lifting the man off his feet in a flash of smoke and blood.
The Gef clamps his hand on his arm and turns away, intending to retreat back towards the airlock and into the raider's ship.
Not so fast.
Terrence lets out a pained moan. He's heard enough people just clinging on to life and sanity that he knows how that sounds. "Help me..." He rasps. One of your friends is still alive, buddy. Save him!
Unlike the last three, this one had a semblance of what he was doing. Stephen cursed again two more times as Cutter took a shot, and then the Marshal was laid out flat. Cutter was a big guy, Stephen thought to himself, the Marshal was older, and that shot wasn't anything frivolous. Ripping his surgical kit from his briefcase, Stephen peered around the edge of the seat just in time to see the Gef retreat into the airlock. Now was as good a time as any other, he figured, and unlatching his kit he flung himself down the aisle, landing on his knees in front of the marshal with the kit open next to him. Ripping out a strip of gauze, he assessed the marshal's condition. "You doing alright, old guy?"
Jumping slightly off the ground as he does so. Either to enhance the attack or, based on what he said earlier to the cabin boy, in some vain attempt to not get blood on his suit.
OOC: Sorry didn't include the blade in the initial roll as I wasn't positive how melee worked , but clarified with Ed.