I'm ready to get have more Trek in my life. Let's do this!

That's good to hear! I wasn't really expecting too many great things from this movie, but I love Tom Hardy and I was just hoping it would deliver on all the weird ridiculousness the trailers offered.

Thanks for the rec, I'm no longer on the fence to go see it!

Kith is mostly interested in the death cult and what this mage's involvement might be in it. Since Midge is her closest informant on that world at the moment, she'd like to pick their mind, see if they can find any leads in that direction.

I like posting, my window is just small. Also, I want to post more often, but even when my posting window is open I sometimes get . . . paranoid  . . . that I'll be posting too many times in a row.

The dood man is going to be gone for work for a couple months though so I'm thinking of picking up another game since I'll have a lot more free time in the evening and all of those Star Trek Recruitment threads are calling to me.

Kithran gathered and quickly organized the remnants of relevant papers she could find and made her way to the door, “So, Little Kitten,” Ch'dau says softly as they rejoin the rest of the party, “what have your keen eyes uncovered?”

"As may be obvious, this was not a random ambush, as the other attacks around this city. Athandar was targeted." She gestered to the debris covering the bloody footprints, "By who or for what I cannot say." She turned to Midge and held out one of the piles of papers, "It isn't much, but these seem to be some of his personal scribblings. There may be something of interest for you here."

((OOC: I'm assuming Midge grabs them, if not she'll just shrug and drop the pile on the floor))

She turned back to the others and held up another small pile of papers,"As I said, I couldn't find what, if anything, may have been sought after here, however, I did find something interesting. These notes and letters all reference something he called simply a 'death cult'." Kith felt the ghost of a rare smile creep slowly across her lips, and quickly banished it. She would be lying to herself if she said she didn't also feel a slight ping at the party's lack of excitement at her news that they could be dealing with a "death cult".

She continued, "It is difficult to make out much of what is said as these papers have all been severely damaged, but there is talk of some 'ritual' or 'rituals', which may also have something to do with this death cult, as well as an 'anchor'. Again, I've no idea what that could be in reference to, but it is repeated often in what is left of his writings. Have any of you heard of anything like this or know of anyone who could make sense of all of this? Midge, are there any other mages that may have known more about Athandar or have been familiar with his work?"

I was waiting for a few more posts to respond to before making another post, but I can do one tonight!

Apologies, work is going to be crazy this week so it's been hard to sneak off and post :3

I should have some time this afternoon though and can make my post then.

Kith is looking for footprints, pieces of clothing or patches of hair that don't match any of the dead bodies, things that look like they were searched through rather than knocked haphazardly in the fight; a full on forensic investigation to the best of her abilities.

"There's no threat here," Gib called to the party outside, "But mind yourself as it is rank within."

"Shall we?" Kithran resheathed her blades and nodded to Ch'dau and the others. Heading into the small house, her nose scrunched immediately at the shock of stench that hit her as she crossed the threshold. The old man's body lay shredded open before her, and several bodies of the dead undead are strewn about, making the small interior even more cramped.

"This man fought and died bravely," she said, more to herself than to anyone around her, and crouched down to further examine the wounds and tattered clothes.

Kith listened to her compatriots distractedly as she moved from body to body, then around the thrashed room. The fight must have been one to behold, based off of the shear distruction this little house held. She examined this room as thoroughly as she did the bodies before finally making her way into the bedroom.

The smell of piss mixed harshly with that of the the charred wood, bodies, and decomposition.

((OOC: Kith is going to really take in the urine scent to see if she saw or smelled any signs of it on what was left of the wizard or his robes in an attempt to verify if it was from the him or some other thing))

Items are strewn about here just as in the front room and Kithran wondered if there was any agency in their displacement or in the displacement of the items in the front room. Not that someone laid them about the floor purposefully, but were they knocked there by a struggling wizard and some undead monsters? Or were they thrown there in search of something? Obviously the struggle here was intense, and the force of the fireball that destroyed this place could have been as much a culprit as anything else, but these creatures didn't come from nowhere.

In a manner that may have seemed disrespectful, Kith searched the wizards room in its entirety. She did well to replace anything she displaced, but there was no inch of the room or the wizard's belongings left untouched. When she was finished in here she rejoined the others in the front room.

((OOC: If she finds anything that leads her to believe someone/thing other than the zombies and gigglers are responsible here, or anything pertaining to Midge, she'll share it with the group here))

In the middle of my post right meow. Investigation to ensue.

I'd like to roll for forensics investiagation.

Woo thanks!

Oof, sorry that took so long! I'm still figuring out her voice, but now that I'm caught up I should be able to post more frequently! 

Kithran stood beside Ch'dau as she watched Gib perform the rites and rituals over their fallen ally. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins from both the battle and the pain in her arm from where that giggling monstrosity had left its mark. However, the service was solemn, and terrible, as they always were; and while it helped to ease the pounding in her heart, it did nothing to calm her nerves. After the service, Kith silently offered her own testament of gratitude and respect to Atharis and stepped outside to breathe in the cool, morning air.

She looked around the devestated town. She had never liked the quiet that followed a battle; the soft sobs of the mourning, the whimpers of the wounded, the quiet of the dead. More than anything, she disliked the strange shreds of security that overcame weary fighters after surviving a long night. More than once she herself had succumbed to that false sense of security. It had never gone well, those nights. Her nerves would not calm, and that is what would keep her alive.

Soon the rest of her party, sans Cedric, stepped out of the Nicked Shill and she marched alongside Ch'dau toward the home of the wizard Athandar, their reason for having come to this godsforesaken speck of the map. Her eyes scanned the roads and her ears perked at any strange noises. While she was indeed fatigued from the night of fighting and lack of sleep, Kith refused to let it get the better of her, focusing instead on the road before them, her hands resting on the hilt of her daggers.

Kith froze along with her party for just a moment as they took in the scene at the wizard's house. It was small, quaint, with a well-maintained garden out front, and blue front door lined with scorching fire marks.

"Blessed Battle Father," Gib muttered near her as he unsheathes his sword and shield.

"Blessed indeed," Kith herself muttered as her fingers tighten around her daggers' hilts, and she scanned the area for any signs of the perpetrators.

“Mmm,” Ch'dau's voice softly beside her, “It does not bode well, does it?”

"Be on guard, friends. Something is amiss," Aranwen warned, and Kith grunts her agreement to the obvious.

“Let us hope it is not the wizard, yes.” Ch'dau replied.

Aranwen continued, "Gib, you're with me," she turned to Ch'dau, "You hang back along with the others. We don't want to scare the occupant, if he's still alive, with a giant cat warrior barging into his home."

“Of course, Aranwen-khatun,” the Kazari agreed and moved to stand guard at the front of the garden while Aranwen and Gib headed toward the front door.

Kithran made her way toward the garden as well, pulling out her daggers should the need arise.

Thanks guys! I'm glad I got you with that one ^__^

"You vant zu be Leaderz, eh? All uv uz kan be zu leader in the dark. Evervon in ze party is equal. No leaderz," the Communications Officer whispered into Steam's ear, ignoring both that Friend Computer had assigned them a Team Leader, as well as any modicum of personal space, "Put Steam in front he says," he continued before even more softly begining to hum some strange tune.

Steam was effectively unsettled and was about to suggest the Comm Officer go communicate with with the inside of his asshole when suddenly Team Leader exploded.

“Everyone SHUT UP!!! We ALL would like to go on and do as Friend Computer has asked but it seems that you lot can’t keep from getting yourselves killed long enough for us to get ANYWHERE!!! So, yes! I will lead as I have been asked… everyone line up, hand on the shoulder in front of you and NOWHERE ELSE!!! No talking! Just walking! Let’s move!”

Steam grunted in approval even as he felt the Comm Officer's hand creep up onto his shoulder. He stifled his instinct to shove it off as the Morale officer's off-key notes filled the quiet corridor, "Following the leader, the leader, the leader. Following the leader wherever he may go." At least it wasn't another soft whisper in his ear, he thought, trying to focus once more on the task at hand.

Finally they were moving. The path is long and uneventful, but the monotony is bliss to a soldier used to days of marching and tired of being blown up. Unfortunately it does not last long enough, as Steam soon finds himself up to his shoulders in shit. A large man thick with muscle and grit does not do well in tiny sewage tunnels. Alas, a soldier of Friend Computer will always endure, even with open laser wounds, and hoping his tablets do not become contaminated.

"Thank Friend Computer," Steam says as they reach the end of the corridor, and from the ashes of excrement rises that which he has dedicated his life and loyatly to at all costs.

The monitor then screeches:

Helloelloello, friendendend citizenzenzenzen! Youyouyou haveaveave aaaa newewew signmentmentment. Wonwonwon thatatat makeakeake youyouyou appyappyappy?

Fromomom thisisis riefinginging, yououyou willillill bebebe metetet bybyby aaaa jackobotobobot. Thisisis jackobotobotbot willilil cortortort youyouyou tototo pickickick upupup tainainain pliesiesies, andandand thenenen tototo R.N.D.D.D. tototo teerteerteer fororor mentalentalental equipmentmentment stinginging. Wontontont thatatat bebebe funfunfun?

Youyouyou willilil thenenen bebebe cortedortedorted tototo meetmeetmeet andandand actactact asasas dyguardsardsards andandadn scortsortsorts tototo Citizenzenzen Wowowow-Geeee-WHZeezeezee. Memberemberember, he'seses Greeneeneen aranceanceance, sososo payayay ntiontiontion tototo himimim.

Youyouyou areareare tototo cretlylyly scortortort himimim tototo theeeee atoryoryory cilityityity ininin Sectororor DEDeedee. Nonono oneoneone isisis tototo knowowow ofofof thisisis ssionsionsion. Citizenzenzen Wowowow-Geeee-WHZeezee isisis nototot tototo bebebe lowedowedowed tototo bebebe cuteduteduted, hurthurthurt ororor letetet outoutout ofofof yourourour sightightgiht. Citizenzenzen Wowowow-Geeee-WHZeezeezee doesoesoes NOTotot haveavav ananan unusualualual earanceanceanceance. Isisis thatatat clearearear?

Thankanank youyouyou, citizenszenszens. Thisisis sionionion willilil bebebe veryeryery safeafeafe andandand lotsotsots ofofof fununun fororor allallall ofofof youyouyou.

Areareare thereereere anyanyany tionsionsions?

Steam takes a moment for his eyes to uncross and for feeling to come back to his brain. He had only caught a few words from the jumbled announcement, but was positive his assessment would be enough to move on to their next assignment.

"Jackobot escort. Get supplies. R.N.D. Equipment, good. Bodyguards . . . " He nearly scoffed at that idea. His fellow teammates were hardly capable of staying alive doing their one easy task--Loyalty, Morale, Hygiene, Communications. And then there was Team Leader who was finally taking some initiative, though only when provoked. And they were supposed to protect someone else?

Friend Computer would not have gotten this wrong, that fact was certain. The stench of commie traitor filled Steams nostrils once again, competing with with the rest of the sewage. Damn, he could really do with murdering some commie bastards right now.

He clenched his fists in the muck and forced himself to focus on the task at hand, "Looks like we have our assignment. Lead the way, Team Leader."

Works for me, Steam wanted to have TL's back 

I am not quite caught up yet, but I briefly read through the last couple posts. Kith will go along with the majority for now.

Don't want to hold the posts up this time so I hope this will suffice. I'll have a real post next time around.

I do not, comrade

Hi Nomad! Welcome! Steam is cooooool as a cucumber but Blowz2 has definitely creeped me out :3 Awesome post!

Hi! I have a lot of reading and catching up to do, but I hope to be able to jump in and post soon! 

Brighte certainly seemed to be one of the more efficient members of their team, despite how loud he was.

"Day-o, Dayaa-o, daylight gone and me wanna go on," Brighte jingled near him.

They had hardly moved. What an inefficient team. No, if Steam had learned anything from his time in the armed forces serving Friend Computer, it was that even the greatest, most valiant team could be taken down by inefficient leadership. And inefficiency was an enemy to Friend Computer.

With the new Slipp ready to go, Steam turned toward what was either their leader, or a wall, "Team Leader, under your command we have efficiently moved about fifty feet in the last half hour. We are keeping Friend Computer waiting. I revoke my request to lead in order to allow you to do your best job from where you belong, in the front."

Steam held his arms out and pat around everyone until he finally got to their leader. He put a large, meaty hand on Team Leader's shoulder and helped guide him forward, waiting for everyone else to latch on to the person in front of them.

"Whaddya say Team Leader? You gonna lead us out of this or waste more of Friend Computer's time?"

“Steam," Team Leader began, "as you have said that you have experience in these situations, I accept your volunteering to lead us to the designated briefing point. I’ll follow behind you and everyone else line up behind me. Let’s hope we have no further delays.”

Steam nodded in the darkness, "Alright, you heard him. Everyone grab the shoulder of someone near you. I'll make my way to the front and we'll continue without anymore de-"

BOOM!

This time it's Slipp's face he sees as the hallway lights up once again an the entire team is taken to the ground once more. Steam shakes his head, becoming already too used to this shit and jumped up in a rage, his arm growing more pained by the second.

"Is anyone down?! Someone check on that idiot that blew his face off! No one else try lighting anything, rewiring anything, doing anything else that's gonna get us all killed! If Slipp isn't dead, get him up and let's get out of this Friend Computer foresaken hallway. Friend Computer is counting on us team, let's move!"

It all happened so fast, as it always does. First with the lasers, then with the flash bang volt of electricity that claimed Brighte 1. On a scale of 1 to fucked up, Steam had definitely seen worse deaths, though not so many that smelled like a luau. His own sizzling arm wasn't helping much.

He tried to clench his fist and make out the position of his teammates based on the small noises they made to pass the time. The brief 10 minutes it took for Brighte 2 to show up were the most blessedly silent Steam could remember. And then he was there again and they were all still in darkness.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Brighte asked, breaking the silence, "Maybe someone should take a look at the power couplings and see if there is anything wrong. I can be a stool if needed."

Steam stepped in what he assumed was the second clone's direction, "That's how your first clone kicked it, Morale officer, though your first idea wasn't so bad."

He had no idea where Team Leader was anymore, but he turned in the darkness anyway, "Team Leader, I suggest we do as Brighte said before and all line up behind you, holding on to each other and head down the rest of the way together, sir. I'm comfortable leading the way too, if you want. I have experience in these exact situations."

The PAX daze has finally passed (sort of)! Steam is ready to go! Pew pew pew *shoots friends on accident*