"Blade Jaguar, Recurve Salamander, Breaker Eagle, Solar Dog, Titanium Flea, and Quiet Viper inside," Albatross counts off with all the emotion of a man entering unimportant data into a spreadsheet. "Minigun Grizzly, Booming Tiger, Brawling Mantis, Dynamite Raven, and myself outside. I believe that is everyone?"
He turns toward Viper. "Once the field is down and communications back online, I can coordinate the movements of both teams for maximum efficiency," he says.
Mantis' comparatively diminutive body turns, his back still leisurely planted against a wall away from the table, to watch as Grizzly gets up, irises moving over him in several different directions.
Chase MaverickBreaker Eagle(Recon +1)(Break +1)
Chase stands up, feet leaving a cluster of cracks and dents on the table as they drop through it to the ground. His hand comes down hard on the damaged surface. "Team Leader! Called it!"
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
edited March 2014
[Sprunk Cohle] [Bes'][Doge]
I: Amulet
Well tha'ol'youngin'Sprunk, 'e'a'cepts the girls scratchies wit'a- *coughs, sputters*
sorry that's just gonna take forever
Sprunk, whom is most certainly a young doggie by most standards in Knowhere, silently leans his neck into the petting, eyes still locked onto Jennie's jerky. They somehow seem a bit more demanding now.
It takes anoder half hour, maybe 45 minutes before the Sherrif arrives. From the look on his face he must have over slept. Bastard was probably up all night drinkin.
“All right, all right, gather round. You know how this works. Ya give the Amanita whatever darn thing they asked of you this round. Theeeen ya get to harvest to your hearts content. Jackson should have some wheelbarrows handy so you don’t have to stuff your pockets.”
His voice changes over to that of a scolding father “And, for the love of god, no fightin this year. They turn the entire damn valley into a farm for this, there is plenty of it to go around. Ain’t like any of you fat bastards are goin hungry anyways.”
Morse gestures to a couple of men waiting by the side. They grab a big ol’ barrel between to the of em’ and hoist it up to the stage.
“Alright, put yer names in the bucket. Gonna draw for order, then ye can-“
Morse is interrupted by a peculiar smell fillin the bar.
Smoke
The folks outside the bar who couldn’t quite fit in the bar start pointing at the sky. Ya hear them sceamin, sounds like there is a mighty lot of smoke billowin on the horizon.
Which means a awful lot of somethins are bruning
0
Options
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
edited March 2014
just to be clear, the smoke is not coming from somewhere inside of the bar, correct?
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
edited March 2014
[Sprunk Cohle] [Bes'][Doge]
I: Amulet
Sprunk is the first to catch the smell. Before the sheriff starts speaking, even, he begins to look from the horizon, back to the jerky, the horizon, and the jerky once more. From somewhere in his throat, a deep growling emerges.
grrrr
food, later
Giving the treat one last mournful look, he starts booking it for the source of the smoke. As dirt and city give way to open space under his paws, he tries to suss out what exactly is burning by it's scent.
so how do rolls work in this brave new world of geth and glossolalia? it's been a while
Tommy2Hands on
0
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Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
The jerky hangs limply in Jennie's hand as she looks up at the smoke.
"Oh, you have got to be joshin' me," she mutters to herself. Abram's pins his ears back. "Yeah, I don't like this either. C'mon, buddy. I've got a bad feeling I know where it's coming from."
She pulls herself up into the saddle and rides off toward the fields, tossing the jerky to the dog as she passes him.
Dr. Samuel D'esmirius [Charlatan], [Doctor?]
i: Serpentine Staff
!!!
A quite unfortunate event this. The good Doctor leans on his cane a good 2 1/2 second before he decides exactly how he's going to play this.
"Fire!? Fire! FIRE!" He says in his best chicken little impression. "The Food's on fire? The Harvest on Fire? How would we eat, How would we survive! We gotta go. ALL gotta go gotta go. Gotta stop it got fix it!"
With the entire town panicked and rushin The good doc slips back and check this old voting barrel.
[Charlatan]
-Get the entire town rushing to the fire, and no one paying attention to the drawing barrel
Tiny: Dust
Roll 1d4 when you wanna do something and you don't know how it will run out.
4 -That thing goes super well.
3 - That thing does what you wanted.
2 - That thing works, but everything didn't turn out great.
1 - That thing did not work, and stuff is bad.
If circumstances are good, roll with a +1, or a -1 if they're bad.
If you roll a 1, you get a -. You're reeling, terrified, shaky, whatever. Roll a 1 again and you're at the narrator's mercy. You might die! Roll a 4 and you get a +. You're on a roll, you've got the higher ground, the advantage, you're cool and collected or something like that. Succeed again and you are victorious, the scene is at your mercy. Rolling a 4 while - erases the -. Rolling a 1 while + erases the +.
Great. Now there's two fires. The one out there and the one rushing through these people.
So Jerry tries to speak up:
"Everyone! Ain't no good rushing out there to the fields without our heads on straight! The Amanita want no more worry than that there smoke!"
"Blade Jaguar, Recurve Salamander, Breaker Eagle, Solar Dog, Titanium Flea, and Quiet Viper inside," Albatross counts off with all the emotion of a man entering unimportant data into a spreadsheet. "Minigun Grizzly, Booming Tiger, Brawling Mantis, Dynamite Raven, and myself outside. I believe that is everyone?"
He turns toward Viper. "Once the field is down and communications back online, I can coordinate the movements of both teams for maximum efficiency," he says.
kilroy earns 20 Coolguy Points for compiling this list for me
Coolguy Points can be spent on sunglasses to customize your character's appearance
Jacknife Kangaroo sucks his lip thoughfully, electronically wheezing. "Very well. Ultimately, as the field operatives on this mission, the details of the operation are up to you." Translation: do whatever the hell you want, if you die there's a hundred more young soldiers that we can get to replace you. "We'll ready your transit. Be at the launch site at oh five hundred sharp."
experimentOne(netEpislon): Success. Network Epsilon managed to successfully analyze a complex problem with ambiguous parameters and calculate an optimal solution, which reflected an intelligent and optimized division of labor. Network's decision-making process was not influenced by suggestion of sub-optimal solutions. Network was able to successfully establish consensus between all nodes efficiently, with minimal noise.
#Engineer's comment: still room for improvement re: "cognitive noise"#
Blink.
It is 6:30 in the morning, local time. The Infiltration and Distraction teams have each been strapped into separate Sky-Mag capsules, large metallic hollow spheres that look more like a carnival ride than military vehicles. The capsules have been positioned in slots inside of the Loading Bay for the Naval Air Station Oceana Global-Transit Railgun, a towering structure the size of an old-fashioned rocketship. From the control room, Cpt. Blake speaks into a microphone, causing your nanites to stimulate the bones of your ears.
"Before launch, there's one person I'd like you to meet."
Blink.
You're in a lounge. Just you. None of the others are in the lounge with you. You're sitting in a very comfortable chair. Before you is a large, polished mahogany desk. A young woman sits across the desk from you. She's petite; a body type you don't see much these days. The large desk and overstuffed chair make her seem even smaller by comparison. She smiles at you while she fills two highball glasses in the middle of the desk, one for each of you.
"It's nice to meet you, Agent. My name is Jennifer Michaels. I'm going to be your intel support for this mission. I look forward to working with you!" She slides the glass toward you. Not many people drink these days; nanites break down alcohol molecules before they can enter the bloodstream, and besides, there are plenty of options for nano-stimulation if you're looking to be inebriated for a while. Of course those kinds of apps are blocked by military-grade nanites.
"This room is an AR construct, generated by your nanites stimulating the sensory receptors of your brain. Naturally you're free to customize it as you see fit. Just visualize my face when you want to 'come' here to speak with me. My role is to supplement your nanites' information indexing functions. Should you get into an area with poor reception, you can contact me via the shortwave radio connection I have to your nanobots and tell me what you'd like me to research. I can also manually direct your nanomachines' information searching capabilities, for when you need to research information while devoting your attention to another task. Finally, I'll be recording and organizing the memories and combat data you develop during this mission, for use in future intelligence gathering and training scenarios. I hope that my services can be of use to you!" She salutes, and... blink. You're back in the Sky-Mag.
"Distraction Team, prepare for launch."
The Railgun ratchets very slowly, rotating and adjusting its bearing until it's aimed to the southwest.
"3.
2.
1."
PassFail experimentTwo(Network net){
Purpose: Study how net reacts when predefined plan of action is disrupted with sudden, unpredicted change in parameters, i.e., when an "accident" occurs or a "mistake" is made outside of net's control.
}
execute experimentTwo(netEpsilon);
In theory, the Sky-Mag is designed to launch a strike team inside of a giant projectile. A sufficiently large and powerful railgun is powerful and precise enough to put a team down at any position on the globe. For intercontinental journeys, the capsules generally break through the upper layers of the stratosphere. Once the ball begins to return to the Earth, microbots begin to dissassemble the capsule, breaking it down into raw material that is then used to generate the team's mission equipment. By the time the capsule has descended to a safe altitude, it's been completely disintigrated, and the operatives inside complete the descent via parachute. Exact landing position can vary depending on windspeeds, but in general, a Sky-Mag system operated by a sufficiently powerful supercomputer can practically land a team on a dime.
...Assuming that it's been properly calibrated.
By the time the Distraction Team realizes that they've been launched not into the nearby jungle, but rather directly over Sgt. Mayfield's base, it's far too late to do anything about it. Each of them goes into violent convulsions as the electromagnetic field disables their nanites, and they're unconscious by the time they reach the ground.
The second team is already in the air before the mistake is discovered.
<netEpislon.DistractionTeam>{
Blink.
Something smells delicious.
You're laying in grass. Is this grass? It seems too soft. Almost like moss, but not slimy at all. It's like someone crossbred grass and velvet.
That metallic taste in your mouth... blood?
Someone is hammering something in the distance.
Your vision finally comes into focus as you take in your environment. You're in the middle of a small cluster of cottages. This must be Yavisa. People are walking all around you, no one seeming to acknowledge your presence. The sky is the most brilliant shade of blue you've ever seen. Funny, the mission briefing said it was supposed to be raining here today.
Your equipment is missing, and your nanites seem to have gone into "safe mode;" their reception is too poor to connect to the network, and they've gone into a low-power state to prevent any signal noise from generating unwanted nerve stimulus.
}
<netEpsilon.InfiltrationTeam>{
The Infiltration Team gets a slightly faster indication that something's wrong when the microbots in their capsule don't deploy at the right time. The capsule smashes through the stormclouds overhead and digs deep into the muddy earth before finally dissolving into their equipment. As the roof melts above them, the team is drenched in a downpour of water. Ten seconds into your first mission, and already your equipment's malfunctioned, you're soaked to the bone, and waist-deep in mud. Wonderful.
Your nanites generate a heads-up display in the corner of your eye, showing a map of the area. It looks like, in addition to the screwed up landing, the Sky-Mag didn't drop you down into the right location, either. It was supposed to deploy you near the enemy base, just beyond the visual range of its watchtowers. Instead, you're ten miles southwest of the base, with the village between you and it. And to make matters worse, you can't establish a connection to the Distraction Team.
}
it wouldn't be metal gear if it wasn't long-winded and confusing
It's just a test!
We're all Raiden!
Eden del BosqueBlade Jaguar(Swords +1) (Stealth +1)
Jaguar is silent as she digs her weapons out from the mud, but you can tell from her face that she's very, very angry right now. She goes through her checklist.
[*] Machete? Y
[*] Katana? Y
[*] Tanto? Y
[*] Throwing knives? 6
Well, at least that went right. The first three blades are sheathed and strapped tightly to her back by nylon straps that wrap around her entire torso. A final strap wraps around her hips and has three holsters on each side for the throwing knives.
"No time to dwell on incompetence," Jaguar finally says. "I'm sure whoever is responsible will be receiving their punishment soon. If we can't contact the Distraction Team, that probably means they were shot inside the magnetic field; which means our job has just changed to a rescue mission." She looks to the northeast. "Let's move."
Recurve pulls himself out of the mud. He checks himself over. Minor bruising, some holes in his Padded Tshirt and Cargo Pants, scratched bow, Bolo Arrow jammed with dirt, Kukri that needs a good cleaning, antsy Salamander. Could be worse.
"We find them on the way. If shits already gone wrong that means the mission is in jeopardy, and we need to get that shield down."
Bixel reaches into his quiver, grabbing a arrow with a long compartment in the front. He slips the salamander into the arrow, knocks it, and shoots it into the air. The arrow deploys at the height of its arc, sending the salamander tumbling. After a few seconds tiny flaps unfold down its sides, and it begins to glide over the forest.
Bixel puts pressure on his eye, and his vision switches over. His sight is now part man, part salamander flying around way up above.
"Alright, I've got visual on the area. If they are in the area I should be able to scope them out."
Chase MaverickBreaker Eagle (Recon +1) (Break +1)
Chase shakes his head. "Our mission hasn't changed then - bust in, disable their shit, bust out. We take out the EM bubble and chances are B Team will contact us."
Rising to his feet, Chase flexes his breaker field, sending mud spraying out around him and driving off the rain. He jams a toe into the ground, the earth breaking around it, driving his foot forward and sending him sliding off after Jaguar.
Posts
"Blade Jaguar, Recurve Salamander, Breaker Eagle, Solar Dog, Titanium Flea, and Quiet Viper inside," Albatross counts off with all the emotion of a man entering unimportant data into a spreadsheet. "Minigun Grizzly, Booming Tiger, Brawling Mantis, Dynamite Raven, and myself outside. I believe that is everyone?"
He turns toward Viper. "Once the field is down and communications back online, I can coordinate the movements of both teams for maximum efficiency," he says.
Steam | Twitter
"Is good." He says as he pushes off the floor and dusts himself off, towering over the others. "When do we leave?"
Mantis' comparatively diminutive body turns, his back still leisurely planted against a wall away from the table, to watch as Grizzly gets up, irises moving over him in several different directions.
should keep this one close
"Suggest as soon as possible."
Chase stands up, feet leaving a cluster of cracks and dents on the table as they drop through it to the ground. His hand comes down hard on the damaged surface. "Team Leader! Called it!"
Not even five minutes ago Speed was giving Stilts shit for immediately splitting the party in his metal gear stream
So this post is super funny to me
i like the robot btw
I'm partial to the penguin packing heat.
I: Amulet
Well tha'ol'youngin'Sprunk, 'e'a'cepts the girls scratchies wit'a- *coughs, sputters*
sorry that's just gonna take forever
Sprunk, whom is most certainly a young doggie by most standards in Knowhere, silently leans his neck into the petting, eyes still locked onto Jennie's jerky. They somehow seem a bit more demanding now.
Sprunk Cohle barks in the affirmative at his being mention, loosing his gaze momentarily to look at the oncomer before barking a second time.
yes that is me
hello fast talker
He looks back to Jennie and the deliciousness teasing him
this is fun
“All right, all right, gather round. You know how this works. Ya give the Amanita whatever darn thing they asked of you this round. Theeeen ya get to harvest to your hearts content. Jackson should have some wheelbarrows handy so you don’t have to stuff your pockets.”
His voice changes over to that of a scolding father “And, for the love of god, no fightin this year. They turn the entire damn valley into a farm for this, there is plenty of it to go around. Ain’t like any of you fat bastards are goin hungry anyways.”
Morse gestures to a couple of men waiting by the side. They grab a big ol’ barrel between to the of em’ and hoist it up to the stage.
“Alright, put yer names in the bucket. Gonna draw for order, then ye can-“
Morse is interrupted by a peculiar smell fillin the bar.
Smoke
The folks outside the bar who couldn’t quite fit in the bar start pointing at the sky. Ya hear them sceamin, sounds like there is a mighty lot of smoke billowin on the horizon.
Which means a awful lot of somethins are bruning
Its coming from something flammable
A lot of somethings flammables
I: Amulet
Sprunk is the first to catch the smell. Before the sheriff starts speaking, even, he begins to look from the horizon, back to the jerky, the horizon, and the jerky once more. From somewhere in his throat, a deep growling emerges.
grrrr
food, later
Giving the treat one last mournful look, he starts booking it for the source of the smoke. As dirt and city give way to open space under his paws, he tries to suss out what exactly is burning by it's scent.
so how do rolls work in this brave new world of geth and glossolalia? it's been a while
hey man can't a dog eat healthy shit for once
i: handmade whip
The jerky hangs limply in Jennie's hand as she looks up at the smoke.
"Oh, you have got to be joshin' me," she mutters to herself. Abram's pins his ears back. "Yeah, I don't like this either. C'mon, buddy. I've got a bad feeling I know where it's coming from."
She pulls herself up into the saddle and rides off toward the fields, tossing the jerky to the dog as she passes him.
i: Serpentine Staff
!!!
A quite unfortunate event this. The good Doctor leans on his cane a good 2 1/2 second before he decides exactly how he's going to play this.
"Fire!? Fire! FIRE!" He says in his best chicken little impression. "The Food's on fire? The Harvest on Fire? How would we eat, How would we survive! We gotta go. ALL gotta go gotta go. Gotta stop it got fix it!"
With the entire town panicked and rushin The good doc slips back and check this old voting barrel.
[Charlatan]
-Get the entire town rushing to the fire, and no one paying attention to the drawing barrel
Geth roll 1d4
Geth roll 1d4
i: Wrench
Great. Now there's two fires. The one out there and the one rushing through these people.
So Jerry tries to speak up:
"Everyone! Ain't no good rushing out there to the fields without our heads on straight! The Amanita want no more worry than that there smoke!"
Geth roll 1d4
kilroy earns 20 Coolguy Points for compiling this list for me
Coolguy Points can be spent on sunglasses to customize your character's appearance
Thanks, Coolguy
http://www.audioentropy.com/
Can you say, "ball?"
Ball. Ball. Buh. Buh. Buh. Buh-all. Buh-all. Ball. Ball.
Very good.
Jacknife Kangaroo sucks his lip thoughfully, electronically wheezing. "Very well. Ultimately, as the field operatives on this mission, the details of the operation are up to you." Translation: do whatever the hell you want, if you die there's a hundred more young soldiers that we can get to replace you. "We'll ready your transit. Be at the launch site at oh five hundred sharp."
Blink.
It is 6:30 in the morning, local time. The Infiltration and Distraction teams have each been strapped into separate Sky-Mag capsules, large metallic hollow spheres that look more like a carnival ride than military vehicles. The capsules have been positioned in slots inside of the Loading Bay for the Naval Air Station Oceana Global-Transit Railgun, a towering structure the size of an old-fashioned rocketship. From the control room, Cpt. Blake speaks into a microphone, causing your nanites to stimulate the bones of your ears.
"Before launch, there's one person I'd like you to meet."
Blink.
You're in a lounge. Just you. None of the others are in the lounge with you. You're sitting in a very comfortable chair. Before you is a large, polished mahogany desk. A young woman sits across the desk from you. She's petite; a body type you don't see much these days. The large desk and overstuffed chair make her seem even smaller by comparison. She smiles at you while she fills two highball glasses in the middle of the desk, one for each of you.
"It's nice to meet you, Agent. My name is Jennifer Michaels. I'm going to be your intel support for this mission. I look forward to working with you!" She slides the glass toward you. Not many people drink these days; nanites break down alcohol molecules before they can enter the bloodstream, and besides, there are plenty of options for nano-stimulation if you're looking to be inebriated for a while. Of course those kinds of apps are blocked by military-grade nanites.
"This room is an AR construct, generated by your nanites stimulating the sensory receptors of your brain. Naturally you're free to customize it as you see fit. Just visualize my face when you want to 'come' here to speak with me. My role is to supplement your nanites' information indexing functions. Should you get into an area with poor reception, you can contact me via the shortwave radio connection I have to your nanobots and tell me what you'd like me to research. I can also manually direct your nanomachines' information searching capabilities, for when you need to research information while devoting your attention to another task. Finally, I'll be recording and organizing the memories and combat data you develop during this mission, for use in future intelligence gathering and training scenarios. I hope that my services can be of use to you!" She salutes, and... blink. You're back in the Sky-Mag.
"Distraction Team, prepare for launch."
The Railgun ratchets very slowly, rotating and adjusting its bearing until it's aimed to the southwest.
"3.
2.
1."
PassFail experimentTwo(Network net){ Purpose: Study how net reacts when predefined plan of action is disrupted with sudden, unpredicted change in parameters, i.e., when an "accident" occurs or a "mistake" is made outside of net's control. } execute experimentTwo(netEpsilon);In theory, the Sky-Mag is designed to launch a strike team inside of a giant projectile. A sufficiently large and powerful railgun is powerful and precise enough to put a team down at any position on the globe. For intercontinental journeys, the capsules generally break through the upper layers of the stratosphere. Once the ball begins to return to the Earth, microbots begin to dissassemble the capsule, breaking it down into raw material that is then used to generate the team's mission equipment. By the time the capsule has descended to a safe altitude, it's been completely disintigrated, and the operatives inside complete the descent via parachute. Exact landing position can vary depending on windspeeds, but in general, a Sky-Mag system operated by a sufficiently powerful supercomputer can practically land a team on a dime.
...Assuming that it's been properly calibrated.
By the time the Distraction Team realizes that they've been launched not into the nearby jungle, but rather directly over Sgt. Mayfield's base, it's far too late to do anything about it. Each of them goes into violent convulsions as the electromagnetic field disables their nanites, and they're unconscious by the time they reach the ground.
The second team is already in the air before the mistake is discovered.
<netEpislon.DistractionTeam>{
Blink.
Something smells delicious.
You're laying in grass. Is this grass? It seems too soft. Almost like moss, but not slimy at all. It's like someone crossbred grass and velvet.
That metallic taste in your mouth... blood?
Someone is hammering something in the distance.
Your vision finally comes into focus as you take in your environment. You're in the middle of a small cluster of cottages. This must be Yavisa. People are walking all around you, no one seeming to acknowledge your presence. The sky is the most brilliant shade of blue you've ever seen. Funny, the mission briefing said it was supposed to be raining here today.
Your equipment is missing, and your nanites seem to have gone into "safe mode;" their reception is too poor to connect to the network, and they've gone into a low-power state to prevent any signal noise from generating unwanted nerve stimulus.
}
<netEpsilon.InfiltrationTeam>{
The Infiltration Team gets a slightly faster indication that something's wrong when the microbots in their capsule don't deploy at the right time. The capsule smashes through the stormclouds overhead and digs deep into the muddy earth before finally dissolving into their equipment. As the roof melts above them, the team is drenched in a downpour of water. Ten seconds into your first mission, and already your equipment's malfunctioned, you're soaked to the bone, and waist-deep in mud. Wonderful.
Your nanites generate a heads-up display in the corner of your eye, showing a map of the area. It looks like, in addition to the screwed up landing, the Sky-Mag didn't drop you down into the right location, either. It was supposed to deploy you near the enemy base, just beyond the visual range of its watchtowers. Instead, you're ten miles southwest of the base, with the village between you and it. And to make matters worse, you can't establish a connection to the Distraction Team.
}
http://www.audioentropy.com/
http://www.audioentropy.com/
It's just a test!
We're all Raiden!
Eden del Bosque Blade Jaguar (Swords +1) (Stealth +1)
Jaguar is silent as she digs her weapons out from the mud, but you can tell from her face that she's very, very angry right now. She goes through her checklist.
[*] Machete? Y
[*] Katana? Y
[*] Tanto? Y
[*] Throwing knives? 6
Well, at least that went right. The first three blades are sheathed and strapped tightly to her back by nylon straps that wrap around her entire torso. A final strap wraps around her hips and has three holsters on each side for the throwing knives.
"No time to dwell on incompetence," Jaguar finally says. "I'm sure whoever is responsible will be receiving their punishment soon. If we can't contact the Distraction Team, that probably means they were shot inside the magnetic field; which means our job has just changed to a rescue mission." She looks to the northeast. "Let's move."
And then she starts sprinting.
They are perfectly content to abandon the bar, and everyone is giving and taking orders anyways
I mean, your actions will still happen, but I dont really consider those to be things that are exactly a challenge
Dr. Samuel D'esmirius [Charlatan]+1, [Doctor?]
i: Serpentine Staff
Recurve pulls himself out of the mud. He checks himself over. Minor bruising, some holes in his Padded Tshirt and Cargo Pants, scratched bow, Bolo Arrow jammed with dirt, Kukri that needs a good cleaning, antsy Salamander. Could be worse.
"We find them on the way. If shits already gone wrong that means the mission is in jeopardy, and we need to get that shield down."
Bixel reaches into his quiver, grabbing a arrow with a long compartment in the front. He slips the salamander into the arrow, knocks it, and shoots it into the air. The arrow deploys at the height of its arc, sending the salamander tumbling. After a few seconds tiny flaps unfold down its sides, and it begins to glide over the forest.
Bixel puts pressure on his eye, and his vision switches over. His sight is now part man, part salamander flying around way up above.
"Alright, I've got visual on the area. If they are in the area I should be able to scope them out."
Chase shakes his head. "Our mission hasn't changed then - bust in, disable their shit, bust out. We take out the EM bubble and chances are B Team will contact us."
Rising to his feet, Chase flexes his breaker field, sending mud spraying out around him and driving off the rain. He jams a toe into the ground, the earth breaking around it, driving his foot forward and sending him sliding off after Jaguar.
Jian might not be scared of the dark but I honestly I had not prepared for having to box blind so soon into the mission
this is what happens when you make the GM mad you guys!!
I'm sure we'll be fine,
you know, after we get taken hostage
I mean, it won't work because of the field but it is surgically attached to his face still, yeah?
hah! you think i'm mad
http://www.audioentropy.com/
that's correct, he still has it
and actually, it does work.
http://www.audioentropy.com/
a happy speed means that they won't torture us too badly when we are totally taken hostage
no a happy speed just means you'll only lose most of your limbs in the torture sequence instead of all
http://www.audioentropy.com/