Okay, so now what?

I have posts from everybody except Blackthorn.  But I'm not sure how the party wants to proceed. 

Talk to the woodsman or his family?  Take his offers of payment?  Keep moving along the road to the west?  Do other exploration?  Retire to somewhere sunny?

Some are phishing.  They figure a hobby site isn't well protected, but that people are lazy - so if they use a username/password here, they may use the same combo for their bank or credit card. 

Some just like to watch the world burn.

What is happening is that we are the target of some hackers.  They send a TON of requests at the site, trying to grab information from the databsse in some very clumsy, easily defeated ways. 

But they never stop. 

So what happens is that they sometimes fire off attacks back to back to back from different IP addresss, and do so very rapidly, causing a mini DDOS attack against the site. 

I have set up one fence that sees their attacks, matches a pattern, then immediately drops the trafffic and kills them at the firewall level (thus preventing them from making any more requests). 

But they change tactis from time to time, which can end up slowing the site down or knocking it - and the other webistes I run off of this server - off line. 

I'll keep an eye on the logs and work to keep fencing them out.

It looks like the Hexatris isn't going to work out.  However, The George Washington Carver has gotten off to what looks to be a successful start... and the Peregrine is humming right along.

So far, so good, fleet!

No worries.  As I read this again, I realize that I really haven't given you guys much to do except post something like "dude, long lines suck."

I posted one update; there's not a ton ton for you guys to do at this moment, I suppose, so I'll post another shortly (maybe today). 

I will wait until everyone who is planning to respond to the meeting can do so (assuming they can do so soonish... I don't want to wait a week). 

The thing with Trek is that you have so many storylines going on that you just about are guaranteed to have the scene jump around a bit.  This is why the post header and timestamp part is SO important, and that's why we do the logbook in Trek tools - to help kep it all in order. 

It's always, always okay to backpost - assuming that your posts don't contradict the future.  Say, your character is on the bridge at 3 PM, but you backpost that they took a shuttle on a five hour flight at 1 PM.  That would obviously be a no no.

But backposting does allow you to fill in those interactions and side plots while not holding the overall game back. 

Hey all,

I don't want to sit stangant for long.  I am very close to bumping things forward to the next game day.  And, as a matter of fact, I'm considering bumping thing ahead several days, until the next mission-related issue arises. 

Right now, I'm looking to move us to Saturday evening pretty soon, unless there are mission-related posts that need to get handled first.  So... Bueller?

That is fantastic.

No birthmarks, though...

I'm not questioning how you play your characters, I was just surprised at how it unfolded. 

As for cries... I mean, mom was already paralyzed by the time you got there, and when you crested the ridge, you were still a good fifty yards away from the cabin... with the boys trying to hide.  Ch'dau picked up on a scream as he approached the door, but there wouldn't have been much in the way of screams until the zombies got the boys.

Hah, the lack of IDing the gigglers is frustrating to narrate, but I haven't found an excuse to give you another knowledge check. 

I guess so. 

I mean... Kith is supposed to be selfish, so I can see her giving a pass toward rescuing unknown children. 

But Gib?  Cedric? Aranwen?

I dunno.  In hindsight... had the boys died, they died.  It would have just added to the horror of the situation, I suppose.

First off - there seems to be some confusion, somehow or another.  Apprently, I somehow failed to communicate that the fight is over.  I have both Cedric and Midge outside, posting as if they are preparing to encounter zombies. 

The warriors cleared the zombies on their way inside the cabin.  There are no remianing undead at this time. 

Second - none of you have ever heard of undead that might rape.  Most undead do little that resemble "living" activities - a few noteable exceptions would be ghouls, ghasts, and vampires consuming flesh or blood, and vampires sleeping during the day.  By and large, undead do not eat, do not sleep, do not rest - and certainly do not procreate sexually or have sexual contact.  If they procreate, it is through supernatural means - killing and raising a victim as that type of undead. 

And then, an aside...

Ch'dau was, indeed, rash.  His actions are also the only reason that the boys survived.

When I drew up this encounter, I envisioned hereos of goodness rushing to save the day when they found a badly wounded father begging for help saving his children from the very sort of undead that the party had been fighting.  While I understand being tactically smart, I have to admit... I was a little surprised at the reaction that he was instead laying some elaborate trap, that he needed to be vetted, the area scouted, etc. 

The older boy would have died the next round, the younger in a round or two after.  I had envisioned this heroic rescue in the nick of time... I guess that I didn't take everything that I should have into consideration.

I'm not sharing this in an effort to tell you how to play, mind you.  Just sharing my thought process as to how I had expected this encounter to play out.

I guess that I don't undertand the issue. 

The text boxes here are literally nothing more than standard HTML textarea controls.  All of the fancy formatting and such is just CSS presentation and javascript, but if you disable javascript, you still get a plain Jane textarea that you can type in, paste in, etc. 

I normally post from a PC.  However, I do regularly post via Android Galaxy S8+ for Q&A threads, PMs, etc. 

To copy/paste on my phone it exactly like it is to copy/paste to any other app (email, texting, etc).  Highlight, hold press, option pops up to copy/share/select all, plus an extra context menu.  I tap copy.  Then, I head here, hold press again, paste is an option.  Choose paste, text shows up.  Should be the same process (with slightly different labels) for iOS.

There is nothing OS specific here, no progrmming behind the controls, etc.  If you see the text boxes, you should be able to interact with them like any box.

Life happens, Dunc.  You are keeping us in the loop, so I'm good.  Worst case, we NPC around you a bit if need be.

As it stands right now in terms of player posting frequency, I'm afriad that I will need one - perhaps two - replacement players. 

If you are iterested in a campy, zany game where you get multiple clones/lives, and where everyone is out to get you (and you die often)... let me know!

Now, we have a break in the action.  Time to figure out what everyone wants to do.  I will pause here, give everyone a full chance to post.

It takes approximately ten minutes for the next incarnation of Artie-R-FCL to arrive on scene, by which point the sweeperbot is essentially done with the task of cleaning the mess caused by the gruesome death of his predecessor. Naturally, traffic on the treet is now hopelessly snarled, but most of the citizens impacted appear to be infareds who have sense enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

Once the new clone arrives, the hoverbot responds. "BING!" it intones in that warm, friendly female voice. "Standard event six is resolved with the replacement of the dead clone. Transport may now resume."

Upon Steam's command, the fans whir back to life, causing a fine mist of blood (and a few assorted chunks of gore) to be tossed in and around the crew compartment as the hoverbot floats back into position.

Steam immediately discovers that the hoverbot's controls are no longer as responsive as they once were - presumably, this is a side effect of the crash. The bottom line is that the vehicle is now even more difficult to control.

Fortunately, The rest of the trip to the PLC goes without incident. Yes, the parking itself is an ordeal (it is possible that a motorbike might have been destroyed while maneuvering the hoverbot into a parking location, but who is really counting?), but soon enough, the fans stop spinning and the hoverbot lurches to a rest.

"BING!" the hoverbot chimes. "Production, Logistics and Commissary - we have arrived at our destination. Please watch your step when deboarding, and have a nice day!"

******************************

You step inside the PLC to find yourselves at the end of a very long line - at least forty clones of various colors stand in your way, awaiting their own turns. The vast majority of the clones in line are infareds and reds, though you do spot three oranges and one yellow.

To your right is a long table with at least fifty types of forms arranged in various stacks, and each of them bear reference numbers and notations more bizarre than the last. Fifteen to twenty plastic pens are chained to this table, though it would appear that none of them actually work.

Several ceiling mounted monitor-lasers keep a careful eye on the clones inside the PLC. From time to time, one will train on a clone, cuaing everyone around that individually to subtly shrink away from the person in question.

The line moves excruciatingly slow, taking at least ten complete minute-cycles for each clone in line before the line shifts forward.

Okay, I have posted the Captain's response to the meeting.  If you have something to add, feel free to do so.  If not, I laid out the tempate to allow the meeting to end; I rather doubt that we all want to spend the next two weeks roleplaying sitting around at a meeting. 

Regarding the computer issues - it's entirely up to you guys if these are related or notn abd how difficult it may be to handle them.  Since this most directly impacts Nyle's world, Giddy should probably take the lead on this situation; if any other players would like to take part, please coordinate with him.  Heh, I can see the fun of having the computer spout random facts here and there for a while, but that's up to you guys.

I plan to move the game date on to Saturday pretty shortly.  Feel free to extend your post on into the evening of Friday, the 19th (current date) as late as you wish, but don't go to Saturday quite yet.  I don't really have any plot items, per se, left for today; I just want to give people a chance to wrap up their sidelines and such for today before we press on - but I *DO* want to press on before long. 

Stardate 2365.02.19
USS Peregrine, Captain's Mess - 1615

The Captain sat at the head of the table, his head spinning a bit.  He had expected a small amount of chaos - and the tweaking from Tochi about training a new Captain was both expected and amusing - but he was not prepared for the information being presented.  A security breach?  After everything the Peregrine and her crew had been through over the past couple of weeks, there was a traitor in their midst?

Silas felt his face flush with the anger boiling inside, and he found himself gripping the edge of the table as a way to focus.  He spoke in clipped tones.  "It sounds like you have your first major project, then, Lieutenant Nyle - I want complete diagnostics performed on all of Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas' computer gear.  Set up a monitor.  Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas, once the monitor routine is confirmed, I want you to start keying your research again." He then turned back to Nyle.  "When the data is invariably wiped, you can hopefully trace what process did so, and where this process initiated - if not by whom."

The Captain frowned before addressing the Andorian again.  "Have you entered your research on any equipment that isn't specifically yours?  As in, besides your own personal terminal, PADD or department terminals?  If Nyle cannot find anything, the next step may be to rip out all of your physical equipment and replace it with new gear, on the off chance that it has been phsyically altered in some way."  His gaze settled on the Chief Engineer.  "Eric, if it comes to that, I want you to personally oversee the new equipment."

Silas gritted his teeth.  "I want this traitor found.  Starfleet Intelligence may want to enjoy a nice chat with them... provided they don't run into an airlock mishap before then." 

Drake supposed that he was kidding, though some of the new officers might not appreciate such dark humor.  Then again, given recent events... they would have to either understand, or they would have to deal with it. 

A thought occured to Silas.  "Nyle, I wonder... your computer issue seems rather odd.  As does the timing.  You may want to coordinate with Engineering on this, and Lieutenant Tal feels that she has some resources that may be of use to you. I wonder if this might be related in any way to the vanishing report; I am not much of a believer in coincidences."

OOC: any responses, expositions, etc...

Drake sat back in his chair.  "Very well.  I have reviewed the refit and resupply reports, as well as the crew trnasfer orders.  Is there anything else here that needs to be brought to my attention?"

OOC: speak now...

The Captain nodded.  "In that case, I won't take up any more of your time.  Dismissed."

I agree.  To me, if you are doing Western Fantasy, then your dragon shouldn't have feathers or whatnot.  But with fantasy/mythology in general, there is a lot of room for interpretation. 

To be honest, I just want to see well executed dragons - powerful, terrifying, intelligent.  I'm not as fussed for the specifics of the anatomy.

Heh.  Somebody's gonna shave you first so they stick? 

Heheh... I love the idea of a big ol' furry cat man with a bunch of bald spots with Hello Kitty band aids. 

Heh.  I wasn't, either.  Ch'dau was outnumbered four to one, then five to one, in a situation where I ruled that he lost all of his DEX bonuses to AC - and actually took a penalty on top of it. 

In an open area, he holds his own better.  In that situation, with him not moving in order to protect the boy, with no way to really dodge... he took a lot of punishment. 

Fortunately, Gib and Aranwen were not far behind.  But it was far from a sure thing.

Health:
Ch'dau - very serious wounds
Aranwen - moderate wound
Gib - unwounded
Kithran - unwounded
Midge - unwounded
Cedric - unwounded

Magic:
Midge has five mana points remianing.

Cedric is down two 1st level spells. 

While sympathetic to the fouling that the mother is receiving, Ch'dau was also aware that the older boy literally had seconds to live.  So with a roar, the big mercenary leapt among the zombies, heedless of his own safety. 

In the tight confines of the smaller bedroom, Ch'dau looked every part of the cornered beast.  He layed about with blades and teeth, shattering one of the zombies holding the boy.  With no room to manuever, the undead were free to pummel him, but the kazari barely registered the pain from their blows.  In the melee, the boy was dropped, where he lied motionless on the floor after curling himself into a ball.  Ch'dau stood over him, straddling his prone form, using his own hulking bulk as a shield, roaring a challenge to any who dare to try to take him. 

His actions drew the other zombies in the main room, whose press blocked the doorway, ensuring that the strugglee in the smaller bedroom was now truly a fight to the death.  There would be no escape, no surrender.  There would be victory, or all in the bedroom would perish.

The giggler did not leave its place atop the prone woman.  It continued to thrust away, giggling with a hateful leer, content to let the zombies handle the warrior for now.

The fight began to go poorly for Ch'dau; while he was vastly superior to the undead foes, he was significant;y outnumbered and unable to properly move to avoid their blows, which seemingly rained down upon him from every side.  He drove a blade through the chest of a zombie, killing it and pinning it to the wall... but even as he did so, a corner of his mind registered that his wounds were piling up.

But then, Gib and Aranwen made their way past the zombies and wasps and inside the cabin.  They saw the prone woman with her attacker, they heard Ch'dau's battle roar, and the situation was clear.  With a wordless glance between them, the warrior priest sprinted for the doorway, crashing into the read of the zombies, while the Bladesinger opened the giggling monstrosity from collarbone to armpit.

Even sorely wounded, the giggler was not killed; it gathered itself and leapt upon Aranwen, cutting her with filthy claws and pinning her back against the wall.  The sylvari struggled for a moment, feeling the cold touch of the grave try to take control of her body, but she shrugged it off and smashed the pommel of her blade up into the thing's hateful face; it staggered, then went limp as Kithran drove both of her daggers deeply into its back. 

Gib carved another zombie back away from the doorway, and Ch'dau, heartend by the aid, redoubled his efforts, ripping another of the undead nearly in half.  In moments, the two companions felled the last of them, and the cabin was once again quiet.

The father arrived, and his sobs of fear turned to joy as the two boys came running to him.  At first, he did not seem to register the exposed position of his wife, so great was his joy that his children lived.  Then, his eyes fell upon her. 

He saw the bleeding wounds on her neck and chest, knelt at her side, sobbed.  And then... the woman's legs slowly closed.  Not due to gravity, but due to the fact that she had begun to shake off the paralysis inflicted upon her by the giggler. 

The woodsman's wife was alive.  Her wounds, while ugly, were superficial.  He soon coaxed her into a sitting position, helped her to pull her skirts down, and she cooperated... but her gaze never faltered.  He kissed her, her children wrapped their arms around her... but the woman never stopped staring, wordlessly, into some space that only she could see.

The man was pathetically gratetful for the party's assistance.  He offered venison in way of thanks, he offered the only silver coins that he owned.  Any worldly possession that he owned was yours for the taking, so great was his gratitude.  The boys thanked you, heroes that you are, for saving them.  The smaller boy shyly asked if it would be all right to pet Ch'dau, who saved his brother.