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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Really?

Was it the massive distraction I set of the bellydancing midget clowns?

Posted on 2008-10-06 at 19:28:47.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Blammm!

Sanya is complete. I just have to convert her to HTML and put her on my server.

OK, so, seeing how I still haven't heard from the other three players (Glory, Grugg, or Hammer) concerning their characters, I'm going to have to assume that their interest has dropped off and they are no longer playing. That's too bad because all I needed from Glory and Hammer were those questions answered. Grugg still needed to provide me with the whole kitten-kaboodle. So, unless I hear from them, this would mean that the character creation is complete for the time being. This means that I might be able to start the game here shortly, what with the demise of the Star Trek game I was playing in.

I'll keep you posted.

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 22:17:34.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: We're moving forward again.

OK, so I posted for Raven again, and the rest of you have more to go off of.

Post away. I'll likely be posting no later than next Sunday.

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 21:43:45.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: What's behind door number two?

I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:55am

"Here's the truth of the matter,” Spiff said. “I'm in the middle of a job. I could use some competent help with it, and I think that it will be worth putting myself up for sale in exchange. I'll accept your generous offer Mister Kremlin, but if I don't succeed in my current task, there won't be anything left of me to put to work."

“Is that so, Mr. Spiff?” Kremlin chuckled and took another sip of his vodka. “And what does job entail? Hmm? How can your new family help you?”

There was an undertone to Kremlin’s question. It carried upon it the tone of the spider who’d caught the fly in its web, but that could’ve just been the nature of the arrangement as Kremlin was now Spiff’s superior—at least should the job pan out. After all, working with the mafia was never really like a job. There was no resume involved, the background check was performed, but it was far more thorough than a corporation’s would have been, and it ignored your criminal past. No, this was a way of life, and as Kremlin had said, he was part of the family now, expected to follow their rules, expected to answer their call, and expected to put all else behind the welfare of those higher up in the organization. Spiff was just about to sign the dotted line with blood.

I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:57am

New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:25pm

From his vantage, Guardian couldn’t see much of the floor, but what he did see set off warning bells in his head. Across the floor, near the escalators, there was a man who Guardian had been sure was watching them. As soon as Guardian obviously settled his attention on him, the fellow turned his attention to a balloon vendor presenting a purchased set of balloons to an Exotic; a blue cat woman wearing a white, sequined bikini that allowed her tail to protrude without hindrance. The man wore a black trench coat that was likely armored, and it was slicked by rain. His head was bald and glistening in the mall’s light. He wore a suit underneath his jacket, and black mirrorshades the likes of which were likely in the three hundred Euro range. Scanning the areas to their left, and right, Guardian couldn’t see any others right away, and returning his gaze to the man’s position he’d lost him.

Clenching his jaw, Guardian’s hand went beneath his wet trench coat, his fingers closing over the familiar grip of his Armalite 44. He still hadn’t disconnected the interface plugs that connected the smart software with his neurolink, so he didn’t have to worry about that, but he wanted to be damn sure he was ready for any action should the slick suit decide to risk mall security.

He waited at the entrance like that for a good ten minutes while DigitalScribe remained at the counter waiting on the copies he’d requested, watching the activity within the mall foyer searching for another sign of the watchers, but to no avail. When Scribe approached, Guardian kept his eyes on the spread before him, but spoke in a low tone so as not to attract any one’s attention other than the media’s.

“We have a tail.”

“Speak for yourself, Dog,” Tordesky smiled as though enjoying a light conversation with his bodyguard, and despite his response, Guardian knew that Scribe was taking the warning seriously. “Well, let’s go get a couple of these disks packaged properly. You can tell me of your discovery along the way.”

Eyeballing the crowd to the left, and again to the right, Guardian nodded and the two moved out. The large bodyguard explained the dress of the man, and his attentive nature as well as his sudden disappearance as they walked along the outer edge of the shops. Frankie had to admit that it certainly seemed like a tail, and that did not sit well with him. Finding one of the DataTerm booths unused, he motioned for Guardian to wait for him as he stepped inside, resisting the urge to stare out at the crowd as he did so.

Most DataTerms were simple boxes with enclosed viewscreens for some minor level of privacy sitting atop cement blocks to keep them from being randomly destroyed. There was a new wave of these devices hitting the streets of late; a wave meeting the demand for higher levels of privacy putting the device inside a booth similar to the way payphones were covered. Scribe appreciated these a lot more, but was looking forward even more to the promise of cell phones that linked right up with the DataTerm network provided you were within range. Sure, cell phones allowed Internet access, but a DataTerm was a city’s information bank, providing services you couldn’t easily find on the Internet. To have both at one’s fingertips was potentially huge, and the promise of such new technology was due to deliver later this year. Scribe could hardly wait, almost always being on the cutting edge of new tech, especially if it helped him find the latest and greatest story.

Retrieving his ImageWallet, Scribe produced a couple of colorful bills and slipped them into the cash receiver igniting the screen with a warm welcome. Advertisements flashed across the top of the screen:

Reality a drag? Finding yourself less and less capable of enduring the struggle of Real Life? We’ve been there. We understand. WYR-HEAD Where you’ll kick the addiction of Braindance and find beauty in the Real World.

*A picture of a beautiful, young female model wearing a chrome-finished bikini top and a metal-plated, chrome-finished micro-mini skirt underneath a transparent overcoat switched poses every couple of seconds* URBAN FLASH! For those who aren’t afraid to be bold.

Affordable. Comfortable. Stylish. Home. The conapt studios for the artistically-minded. Brought to you by rockerboy Johnny Silverhand: Silverhand Studios provides the creative environment that promotes success. For studio prices, call 555-2331.

A series of buttons ran down the left portion of the screen with quicklinks for everything from historical information on Night City to Public Transportation, but it wasn’t to these that Scribe’s attention turned. Screwing his interface cable into his wrist, Frankie plugged the other end into the DataTerm’s port granting him cyberaccess. Next, he slipped one of the disks into the reader, waiting as a screen popped up asking for his direction. Scribe’s next few minutes were spent securing the data from the disk in multiple public storage servers. It was a tedious job, made quicker by his mental link, but necessary.

Standing outside of the booth, Guardian continued to keep an eye out for their watchers, his presence there causing people to give a wide berth to the series of DataTerms lining the wall. Even the young woman wearing a black leather halter top with red, neon stripes running vertical across her ribs, and a short, black leather miniskirt with fishnet stockings and stiletto, black leather boots (all synth-leather, of course) who stepped out of one of the adjacent booths paused for a moment in surprise at his sheer bulk, her black-painted lips slightly agape as she peered up at him. Guardian noticed the simple square light tattoos that ran down the right side of her throat, the slightly chewed gum in her open mouth, the pierced tongue, and her Color-Shift contacts in minute detail in the span that she stood there before catching herself and quickly making her way in the opposite direction. His size and demeanor helped in some situations, but that didn’t mean that he’d found what he was looking for. The watcher remained elusive.

Leaning against the wall of the booth, Scribe watched impatiently as the upload finalized. He produced some more cash from his wallet and slipped it into the receptacle as the last of the file finished and a screen popped up asking if he wished to continue the rental. After he’d confirmed, the media took the public server space ID numbers and fed them to various message services, scheduling delivery of the file to Network News 54, WNS, and InfoComp. Sure, they were all megacorps, and only two of them were news corps, but they’d all eat the video files up should they receive them. Once he had completed his work, Scribe unhooked his cyberlink and wound the cable back around his forearm, dropping the disks back into his jacket pocket before placing his bag over his shoulder once more and stepping outside of the booth.

“One more stop, and then we can find someplace to lay low until we hear from Croaker,” DigitalScribe explained to Guardian, and again, the two of them were on the move. “Any sign of our new friend?”

Guardian was forced to admit he’d not seen anything, and Frankie swore under his breath. He didn’t mind being watched so long as he could keep an eye on the watcher. Oh well, he thought ruefully. Nothing for it now.

Their next stop was the postal service. Though most things were handled digitally, there was still a huge package delivery industry with security that made most airports pale by comparison. After all, with technological advancements, a delivery company needed to ensure that their customer base didn’t have to worry about assassin bots, poisons, or explosives more so than ever before. They also needed to insure that the items being sent were protected like the pony express riders DigitalScribe had learned about in school had fought to insure their mail. He’d heard it was a fairly lucrative job for the solo who could pass the background check.

Leaving Guardian at the door once again, Scribe approached the bulletproof glass-encased counter. A young woman with black-dyed hair and multiple piercings in her ears and face, wearing a dark brown shirt open at the collar to show a hint of bosom and a red-lace tank top, approached, her eyes taking in Scribe’s beauty with clear intention, the tip of her tongue touching her scarlet red lips to play with one of the rings.

“Can I help you?”

Frankie was sure there was more innuendo there than the common customer received. Smiling his best, most personably smile, he leaned against the counter with his left arm and slid his right hand into his jacket pocket.

“I need to set up delayed delivery for three packages pending contingency, if I could please.”

“Not a problem,” The girl activated the touchscreen in front of her with her thumb as her fingers all bore fairly long, red-painted nails that occasionally changed shades through chemical displacement. “Your name?”

“DigitalScribe,” Frankie said while flashing his teeth, his eyes darting to the nametag over her left breast. “Star, is it?”

“Yeah,” she said with a slight blush. “My parents were hippies.”

“Really? Nomadic?” Scribe watched as she spelled out his name on the touchscreen. “That’s one word, with a capital D and S.”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, nomadic,” she blushed again as he grinned at her dismissing the mistake. After the last letter was entered she paused for a moment and then looked up at him with surprise. “Are you the DigitalScribe? The one who writes that column for The City Scream?”

Frankie continued to smile. “You bet. Hey, listen honey. I’m in something of a hurry here, but I’d love to share a cup of coffee with you a little later. You sound like a prime interview for my column, what with your parent’s background and all. Tell you what. Put these disks here—“ Scribe slipped the disks out from his pocket and into the receiving tray, pushing the tray in so she could access the disks. “—into three different envelopes—the protected kind, yeah—and set them to go out in three days to the addresses I give you should I not cancel the order, and then give me your number. I’ll give you a call in a few days and we can have that cup of coffee. What do you say?”

“Sure thing!” The girl’s voice held a tremor in it akin to that which Scribe had heard in women fawning over a rockerboy. It warmed his heart that people actually felt so strongly about what he wrote. He continued to make small talk with the girl while she finished processing his order, and when it was done, he had her number in his cell phone as well as a rather seductive picture of her posing behind the glass, showing a little more cleavage (he didn’t remember at what part in the conversation she’d undone those buttons) than she had been when he’d first entered.

“I’ll call,” he said as he backed away from the counter, the warm smile still on his face. She grinned back in a coy schoolgirlish manner and waved. Reaching Guardian, he turned about and allowed the bodyguard to lead the way out relieved of all of the video’s copies, the original, and the doctored version the only remnants from that night remaining on his person.

“Well, what now? I’m done setting this thing up, so now all we need to do is reconnect with Croaker and his crew.” DigitalScribe knew that had Guardian seen the watcher, he’d have informed him. So, he was leaving it up to the big man to determine where they’d play it safe at.

New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:30pm

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

Firewind had been about to respond to Freeway’s explanation when chaos erupted.

The door swung out quickly, lighter than expected due to its thick nature. Peacekeeper stepped forward, weapon leveled at the three men inside, only to quickly lower it just as one of them lurched forward and slid to a stop on his heels. Taking in each of their faces, Jaimy felt her heart lurch. Richard wasn’t with them.

“Where’s Croaker?” she asked in a quiet voice, dreading the answer.

“They took him to another room,” Bull’s Eye answered. “At least that’s what we’re hoping.” The nomad’s hardened face softened a little. “Look, Peacekeeper, he was shot up pretty bad—“

“How bad?”

“A minigun tore through him—“ Bull’s Eye started to explain before being interrupted by Firewind.

“He’ll live, Peacekeeper. I patched him up pretty good before we were separated.”

Taking a deep breath, the bounty hunter clenched her jaw and gave them a brief nod. “We don’t have much time before the guards hit this sector, so let’s move out. Who’s he?” Her attention went to Freeway with steel eyes to accompany them, and the shift in her body lined her up just enough that all she had to do was raise the weapon a hair to put a few holes in him.

“That’s Freeway,” Firewind said from her side. “He’s a captive here as well, so I don’t imagine he’d object to coming along for the ride.”

“That so?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

(OOC: assuming an affirmative answer.)

“Well, we’ve some hardware for you boys, and we’ve a link from the outside through Jack, so arm up. We’re going to go find Croaker and see if we can’t finish this frackin’ mission.”

With a fluid motion, Peacekeeper dropped the retrieved submachine guns into the hands of the captives, stepping aside to allow MDK to share his weapons as well should he decide to.

“Where to?” she asked the assassin.

Croaker is being kept in the main building, sub-floor 3, room 12b. The words streamed across MDK’s eye as though the netrunner had some kind of audio link and was answering the question.

(OOC: assuming MDK shares in his directions.)

Most likely location for drug is main building, sub-floor 5, room 9c. Thirty seconds to clear that hall.

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:56pm

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:23am

“Ok if you are her father I can understand your need to know the whole truth of what happened but I have been in this business too long to take anything on faith. Before I say anything else I want proof of you being her father. Give me that proof and I will tell you anything you want to know, except the names of those involved. I’m sure somewhere within your reach is a pic of the 2 of you together.”

Ackerman stared into Croaker’s face for a moment further before slowly rising up to stand over the injured man once more. With a sour expression on his face, he stiffly reached into his suit coat and from an interior pocket produced a high-end, real leather ImageWallet. Opening it, he pressed a couple of buttons and then turned it to show the nomad a picture of Ackerman with a middle-aged, blond woman who could have very well been a model in her younger years wearing a white, off-the-shoulder sweater with her arms around a teen girl who very well could have been a cleaned up version of Merry Deth, though instead of dyed hair worn by Merry Deth, there was the same blonde hair that the older woman wore. This picture more closely resembled that of the image they’d received from Jack when they’d first taken the job than the one of the teen who’d died on the floor of the van.

“Her name is Meridith, after her mother,” Ackerman breathed, slowly closing the wallet once he was sure Richard had received all that he’d needed to from it. “Now, why don’t you answer the questions I’ve already asked Mr. Tallon? Was it a drug overdose? What kind of drugs? Who diagnosed this? Why did you miss the drop?”

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 12:24am

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 21:42:10.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: OK, so it was some time in the making.

Sorry it took so long to post. Been caught up in illness some myself. Anyway, I took the post some distance and hope I provide you with plenty to work with, folks.

Roger, I'll need to know the expenses for Roc an' the crew so I can get everything financially straight. That sneaking around will come about if Willow finds out anything concerning Ethan Ludlow and where he stayed while in town. Sure wish Sam was up an' about to go along on that should it happen, but oh well.

Looking forward to seeing what happens.

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 20:15:49.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Some additions and progression an' such.

“People here are in a bit of a bind, and you are the first they have seen of a man who stands up for his own,” JW said ruefully. “Can’t blame them for wanting a piece of you. Hell, I wish that I could offer you the job, but I knows you don’t want it. Listen, there is a meeting tomorrow morning of the leaders and the like of this town. Why don’t you come out, it is at the meeting hall over the bank, and I can tell everyone then and there you ain’t no sheriff. It will be the fastest way to get the news across.”

“Me an’ mine ain’t much for politics, JW,” Wyatt absent-mindedly thumbed through the chips he’d just accepted as payment. If felt good to have it in hand, and part of him was already determining how it was to be spent. There were so many expenditures for a ship and crew… “Look, I ain’t saying I’ll be there, but there’s a chance. Either way, I’d appreciate it if’n you set the record straight.”

Hefting the chips Wyatt gave the senator a nod and turned to the bar, sauntering over to the Chinese fellow and setting the chips down in neat stacks.

Quan! (one thousand) I have to give you platinum and credit notes Da yeh or else I call Pete to open vault.”

“We’ll take the platinum and credit notes, Puhn yo. I ain’t got the time to wait on you fetchin’ someone else.” Turning about, Wyatt watched the crowd with a level of disinterest while waiting on the payout. There’d be fuel, food, repairs…Ta Ma Duh! Still haven’t landed no other cargo!

Taking the offered currency, Wyatt moved on to the bar, placing his order while The Kid placed his.

Mo Min Chi Meow this is a saloon Da yeh not a nursery store. If it can’t make you fall down and sleep, we don’t serve it! Dohn ma?” The barkeep was also Chinese, and he looked surprised to have received orders such as the two men were want to give.

Mei Wen Ti,” Wyatt said, waving the man off while desperately fighting the internal struggle to ask for a scotch.

Watching Willow and James for a bit, Wyatt’s mind continued to inventory Rocinante’s needs. He’d have to get Wolf to perform a quick check on the engines—Kora had kept her runnin’ pretty well, but since she’d stayed on that rock, Wyatt’d been uneasy as an elephant in a field of mice just waitin’ for something to break down. Wolf’d have to let him know if there was anything he was accustomed to that was missin’ from the available tools as well. That led Sung to thinking about their recent scrape and the need for medical supplies. He’d have to check with Willow to see if she had everything she’d need should something like this happen again and there weren’t no city doc around with fancy pretties to tidy up with. Of course, there was the ammo they’d expended, Dash’s ballistic mesh, his hat…so much to buy, so little funds. Especially if’n he was gonna make sure everyone got a little spendin’ money.

With a sigh, Wyatt blinked his way out of his thoughts and realized that Willow and James had made their way over to JW’s table where she was engaging in conversation with the man.

“C’mon, Asher,” Wyatt mumbled. “Time t’ git.”

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Wyatt called from the bar as he began to stroll towards the door. Then, as an afterthought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

He watched as she coyly said her farewells to the gentlemen at the table, paying special attention to James. She was good at what she did, and Wyatt was lucky as hell to have her as part of the Rocinante family. He was only slightly surprised by JW rising up to escort Willow towards him, allowing the beautiful woman to switch from his arm to Wyatt’s without a break in rhythm.

Once they’d passed out through the doors into the cooling evening air, JW turned to face them and spoke in a low voice, “Listen. Them there Alliance squad were very interested in that Ethan Ludlow. So much so they took his body with them. Now the squad captain said that Ethan had a father and two other brothers. One of the brothers was around these parts, a real mean one too, but he left awhile ago, I’m told. But Ethan’s father is a commandant in the alliance military; I think she said his name was Horatio. Yeah, Horatio and Ethan and Edward and Ernest. Anyway, thought I would warn you but they got no tie to you. When they asked about the shooting, everyone played dumb and said we arrived and they’s was dead. The folk around here they didn’t pay much attention to, and those they did would say it was the sheriff, which you ain’t, right. But I’d won’t go bragging around none, not that you strike me as the bragging type.”

Inside, Wyatt’s guts had frozen. Outside, his face remained impassive and he nodded his thanks to JW for the additional information. “I appreciate the warnin’, JW. We’ll keep our noses clean, I assure you.”

“Well, I’ll see you in a few hours,” JW said amicably. “Best get back in there before the cards get cold or Chad and the Major start to come to blows. I ain’t a senator as much as I’m a babysitter.”

Wyatt instinctively reached up to tip his hat and then adjusted as he remembered it was ruined and instead offered the senator a slight wave of farewell. Turning away from the bar, the captain of Rocinante waited until he was sure that they were some distance from the location, and he’d done his best to determine they weren’t being followed (OOC: Perception check please).

“That was disturbin’,” he said in a low voice only Willow and Asher might hear. “We been killin’ commandant’s boys. Ta Ma Duh!” He took a deep breath before continuing. “All right, so we’ve got some work ahead of us tonight. Willow, I think we need to look in on these Ludlows a bit further. It just don’t make no sense to me that we run into two of them on the same deal, an’ both of them are up t’ no good. It also bothers the nine hells outta me that we had t’ kill both of them. I want to know where the third brother is, and any data you can find on their pa’d be helpful as well. In particular, I think it might be worthwhile t’ check in on where that Ethan Ludlow was stayin’ here in town, so if you can find that out, I’d be right appreciative.

“Asher, git back to Rocinante an’ make sure she’s secure. Get Ma up to speed on what’s been happening as fast as ya can, an’ then look into the cargo t’ make sure it’s ready to unload. Take Willow with ya so as she can use the cortex link from the ship, an’ check into her wave. I still got the commlink on me, so if’n ya need me before I return, ya can get me on that.

“I’m gonna go check up on Sam and Wolf just to settle my gut a bit before returning to Rocinante. Oh, an’ if you can, Willow, scan the cortex a bit an’ see if there’s anything out there yet about the Ludlow’s deaths. I’m figurin’ as soon as their commandant father finds out two of his boys are dead, he’ll be burnin’ atmo in no time, and bringing a few contingents of Nien Mohn with him lookin’ fer the sheriff that did one of his boys in, and seein’ how this mudball ain’t got no sheriff it’ll raise some questions. I’d prefer we were deep in the Black before that happens carryin’ another load of cargo and no longer worryin’ about some big gun being shoved down our throats.”

Wyatt began to split off from the other two, transferring Willow’s hand to Asher’s arm as he did so, then he remembered something he’d wanted to address with them. “Oh, there’s this meetin’ over the bank tomorrow morning that I might have to attend. Willow, you got that meeting with the shepard tomorrow mornin’ as well. So, when I get back to the ship we’ll conclude our business with JW and then do a quick inventory of all we need. We’ll attend to our various meetings tomorrow morning and then try t’ get our shopping done right afterward. Luck pendin’ we’ll be able to land us some cargo before the afternoon is up, and be able to burn atmo by evening avoidin’ further docking fees.”

(OOC: assuming Willow tells him of her interaction with JW and his mention of the meeting and additional work…)

Wyatt nodded appreciatively. “Didn’t even occur t’ me to ask the fellow for more work, Wil. I was too caught up in the trouble this current job’d arranged for us. Good on ya. I like it all the better anyhow. You being present at the council meeting, an’ me being able t’ attend the shepherd’s meeting with you.

“Asher, if’n you got the time, come up with what we need to stock up on munitions and the like after you fill Ma in and get the cargo ready.”

That said, Wyatt gave a nod of farewell to his crew and turned about to make his way back to the doctor’s. He felt more nervous now about the Ludlow interactions than he had before, and couldn’t ignore the feeling he had that he needed to check in on Sam and Wolf. Peering about the streets as casually as he could while still taking in all the detail he could (OOC: another Perception check please) Sung kept his hand near his colt just in case.

Upon reaching the Doc’s house, he makes a slow parameter check, eyeballing the shadows, the perches on neighboring buildings for gunmen, and every nook and cranny he could find before making his way into the back shed. Pausing at the door he listened for sounds of tinkerin’ and was finally rewarded with a grunt and the clank of metal upon metal. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and approached Wolf where he lay upon the dirt floor halfway underneath the mule, obviously working on the brake line.

“How’s it comin’?” Wyatt crouched so the big man could see his face. Receiving the answer, the captain gave a nod. “All right, well, finish up as quick as ya can. You’ll need your sleep, and I don’t think Willow’d forgive me should you reopen your wound just to get the mule running proper again. You need any parts let me know and we’ll buy ‘em first thing tomorrow morning.” Pausing, Wyatt glanced about the orange-illuminated interior of the shed. “Anything eventful happen while we was out?”

(OOC: assuming something in the realm of uh-uh.)

“Good. Well, like I said, don’t go killin’ yerself.” Wyatt stood and made his way out of the shed to the main house, pausing once again at the shed door to peer about the blue evening (OOC: another Perception check please). Once he was sure that things were still quiet, he proceeded on up the porch to the door, checking whether it was locked (OOC: if it is, he’ll knock and wait for the doc to answer, if not, he’ll go on in, and then lock the door).

His first stop once inside was Sam’s room. There he found the pilot still on his back beneath the mender. Walking up to his side, Wyatt peered down at the injured man and smiled a bit.

“I wonder if this thing can mend a sour personality?”

(OOC: Response.)

Wyatt chuckled. “Look, puhn yo, thing’s’ve gotten a bit more complicated while you napped. Oh, wipe that look from yer face. We got paid, so it ain’t all that bad exceptin’, of course, the holes put in your sorry sack.

“That Ludlow fellow we kilt up at the mine? Well, this other fella that was robbin’ the bank was his brother apparently, and there’s one more of them out there too. I think JW said they was Horatio, Ethan, Edward, and Ernest. I think Horatio is their father…a commandant in the Alliance…”

(OOC: allowing for commentary.)

“Yeah, I know. But it get’s more complicated than that, Sam. We killed two of them so I’m bettin’ that once word gets out the other two’ll come lookin’ to settle the score. So, we gotta burn atmo as fast as we can an’ put distance between us and this rock. The people here have taken to calling me sheriff—Bi Jweh. I asked JW to take care of that little mistake an’ he’s promised to do so at tomorrow’s meeting. The thing is, the Alliance that came down to investigate your handiwork at the bank were apparently told that the sheriff kilt those men dead. Someone goes looking for that sheriff to answer any questions they might have, and there ain’t none to find. It’s gonna look mighty suspicious. Besides, even were I the Law, I don’t think that’d stop a Ludlow none. They don’t strike me as playin’ by the rules types.”

(OOC: commentary.)

Wyatt nodded and gripped Sam’s hand in a firm clasp as he prepared to leave. “I thought you should know. I gotta return to Rocinante to see about the cargo transfer, so that leaves you an’ Wolf here alone. Make sure you keep that sixgun close, an’ don’t take nothin’ at face value, puhn yo. We’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. The Doc says this contraption should be finished with you by then.”

(OOC: response.)

With one final nod of goodbye, Wyatt made his way out the door (confirming that it was locked again) and started off for the ship (OOC: Perception check please). Back at Rocinante he sets to work helping Asher with the cargo should the need be there, otherwise he’s going to start inventory.

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 20:06:45.
Edited on 2008-10-05 at 20:08:15 by Bromern Sal

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Was hoping for a post from Cathy, but I'll improvise.

Kernan was listening to his ranger’s dialogue with only half an ear. Blake had managed to get through the security protocols, and though she’d not given him any indication, he knew enough about computers to realize that the sudden listing of directories meant she’d breached the defenses. So, he’d positioned himself behind her and watched as she worked further magic with industrious speed. After a short time his brow furrowed—not in reference to his injured soldiers deciding that it was time to go, but in the reference to the “agiles” machine. He was about to ask Blake where that machine was located when she continued on in her queries, eventually coming up with a series of network ports on a schematic, where one was highlighted with a bold font. Further digging resulted in the schematics for the building being accessed and the port being matched to a room in the sublevel.

Monty folded his arms across his armored chest and stared at the results of Charlie’s dedicated efforts for a moment, still only half listening to the banter from his troops. Blake had theorized that it was about impossible to determine where Hatherford, Hart, and the two Army soldiers that were with them had disappeared to, and despite every bone in his body aching to go in search of his Rangers, Monty had to agree. There was just too much randomness to the appearance of that jungle cave, and what Kane’s fire team had encountered within that cave had nearly killed three highly trained soldiers! Lt. Kernan wasn’t too keen on running into another of those things, or its big brother. No, he felt strongly that the solution to their problem lay with this “agiles” machine and the data it contained. The problem with this assessment was that it meant traveling through parts of this facility that were as of yet untested, sections of the base that contained dead alien things.

Taking a deep breath, Lt. Kernan gave Blake’s should a quick pat, “Good job, Chief.”

“All right,” he said, turning to the other Rangers, his eyes scanning each of them in turn. “Chief Blake found reference to a computer that could contain the answers to our little dilemma, so that’s our next objective. I know some of you are injured—I know you want to get your sword back, Lee—but there’s a lot at stake here and I’m not about to risk it for a single weapon, no matter the sentimental value. If all works out, we’ll return for it—“ Monty held up his hand to forestall any argument from the sergeant. “I’m not leaving anyone behind again seeing how well that turned out the last time we did, so pack it all up. We’re moving out in five. Kane…” Monty motioned the big Staff Sergeant over to where he stood next to Blake. Once the man had arrived he continued. “We’re going back through that area where you found what you described as an alien. The last location we’ve got on this ‘agiles’ computer is in the administrator’s office on the sublevel. You’re going to take point so I want you to be on your game. You up to this, Ranger?”

(OOC: assuming he is…)

“Good. Then let’s get this team together and move out.”

Once everyone was ready to go, Monty arranged the marching order with Kane at point followed by Lee, then Pearson, Joannsen, Blake, and finally himself. This put the injured in the middle as well as the brain, and the two most fit on either end. With a nod, Monty set his team into motion, his stomach a lead bowl, his jaw clenched.

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 16:58:54.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Da' Moon's right...

“That’s a load of crap, pulled out of a bard’s arse by the pointy-ears themselves,” Da’ Moon rasped from her corner. “The damned elves invaded, bringing the dragons with them, and humans were lucky to survive their murderous ways. Took us long enough to pull together and kick them back over the borders, where they can practice their filthy magics on themselves.”

Char’s focus shifted slowly from Matthias to the little rogue as she drew a breath and hitched her shoulders uncomfortably, perhaps realizing all eyes were on her. “Besides, Dwan, disappearing cattle? Missing villagers? Undead warriors? Sounds like you need Kilgim and a whole church full of his brethren to go bless the place. Maybe some ‘mages of vast power’ to blast those that aren’t undead, but this isn’t the sort of thing you need me for. Put me back in jail if you want to, I’ll just let myself out later.”

The ranger chuckled and took another sip of his drink while pretending to find something interesting in a tapestry across the way so as to avoid the possibility of meeting Da’ Moon’s eyes and running the risk of her finding the mirth in his eyes. He found her contrariness amusing because he knew that she couldn’t possibly figure herself out of the equation here—Dwan had gone through a great deal apparently to get you to make this meeting, more so than he’d worked to find the woodsman camped in the wilds miles from the city. So, he doubted that the ruler of Freegate would just up and allow the rapscallion to return to her accommodations in the dungeons that easily. She did have a point however…

“Aye, tho’ da lad’s as bitin’ as swamp ‘squitos, ‘e makes a poin’ Dwan,” Char said through a half smile carried over from his earlier entertainment. “Dare ain’ nuttin’ I gots ‘gains’ strong arms an’ goo’ steal—fac’ I ‘fere it t’ all da mystica’ hooba-jooba, bu’ undead be proven t’ be da domain o’ those touch by da gods. So, we gonna git some o’ da various church’s ‘elp, er we jus’ da scoutin’ party?”

The grimy woodsman wasn’t afraid of much when it came to the natural world—All things had a place, a function, and a pattern despite the impression most of those who lived within the safety of a walled city received from animals they’d witnessed in the wild—but from the point where Arien was flung through a stone wall, to the instance when Char felt the life being crushed out of him by the green-armed Imperial, the ranger had felt a growing respect for magic that bordered on fear. The events in the Duke’s keep had been strange, to be sure, and he still felt pangs of loss over Daida’s condition—that reminded him (as another pang of guilt rose up in his chest) that he hadn’t visited her for some time. Despite the sudden memory of his love’s condition he kept the half-smile on his face waiting on Dwan’s answer, though the mirth had drained from his crystalline blue eyes like water from an overturned cup.

Posted on 2008-10-05 at 16:35:01.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: No!

Breathe Asher, breathe!

As your captain I'm ordering RL to make time for your posts, and for your muse to catch you with yer britches down 'round yer boots.

Posted on 2008-10-02 at 05:27:58.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Here's for hoping.

I hope to have Blammm's character done this week. Still need that info from the other players, or at the very least a, "No longer interested, Brom."


Posted on 2008-09-30 at 20:11:10.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Still have time

To post...I haven't gotten around to it primarily because I was hoping for more to play with.

Posted on 2008-09-30 at 20:08:19.

Topic: Lady Vanadia's Birthday
Subject: Yup! From me too!

Happy B-day, and may your travels be safe ones.

Eol, stop dancing on the table, man! That's just reduculous, and a little frightening for the younger viewers. Ah, who'm I kidding? It's scaring the older viewers too...

Posted on 2008-09-30 at 20:05:50.

Topic: To Olan!!
Subject: Digs toe into earth and abashedly peers at Olan from beneath eyelashes

Me too. I love Olan too.

Posted on 2008-09-29 at 14:14:13.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Well, I'll be posting tomorrow.

So, anyone who hasn't posted, please do.

Posted on 2008-09-27 at 17:01:45.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Will wait for Vanadia's post to post mine.

Maybe "You can't handle The Truth!"

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Posted on 2008-09-27 at 17:01:05.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: What a bad oversight.

You are correct, except that Sui is already into early Saturday morning.

Posted on 2008-09-25 at 06:02:05.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: LOL

That post made me chuckle. Well done.

Posted on 2008-09-22 at 05:19:51.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Done and done.

I've moved everyone but Sui forward again. I had been hoping for another post from Raven, but I made do without. There was some decent rolls made to get you this far, so good luck with the next posting!

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 18:10:50.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Inside the Facility, and Mallplex Trouble

Alleyway Just South of the New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:08pm

The pair parked the car in a back alley where a series of shipping flats could partially cover it from public view. As DigitalScribe stepped from the cockpit he instinctively hunched his shoulders against the fierce onslaught of the storm. Peering up at the swirling mass of pea soup clouds overhead he presented a disgusted expression and muttered something about the weather under his breath. Snatching his bag from the seat he turned and waited Guardian’s instruction.

The large bodyguard was intent on studying the street down which they’d come, the rain slicked tar snakes glistening beneath the pale yellow of the street lamp some twenty meters away. Without another word, Guardian proceeded down the alley back towards the main street.

Shouldering his bag, Frankie followed, his eyes scanning the street ahead for any sign of trouble. Things were getting out of hand what with the attack at the motel. He’d been in difficult scrapes before in his attempts to bring the Truth to the public concerning megacorps—hell, he’d been in dangerous scrapes just trying to get any story so he could eat! But this one had to top them all. In each incident he’d attempted to take on the megacorps in the past, he’d always had the backing of a studio so he couldn’t just be off’d as easy. This time, he had a couple of nomads, a buxom bounty hunter, a couple of fixers, and a bodyguard. The odds just weren’t as good. So, DigitalScribe felt more than a little paranoid as they stepped onto the street and made their way down the few blocks to the mallplex.

With the evening’s arrival and the storm clouds overhead, the street lamps were already ablaze, and those few people who were dumb enough to brave the weather (like them) were already heading for cover, splashing through the rivers of drainage overflow that threatened to choke the streets. Most were likely heading for some restaurant for dinner, home to their conapt for a lonely meal of kibble and a beer, or even to the mallplex itself, but none seemed interested in the large black man being escorted by the good-looking white boy which suited DigitalScribe just fine.

Reaching the mallplex doors, Scribe let Guardian lead the way. He was filled with anxiety over the possibilities of what awaited them in the business tower, and excited as well. If J.D. had done his job, they had their escape from this nightmare, and Scribe had a huge payout coming (something he desperately needed to keep Guardian on the books).

The warm air of the interior washed over them as they stepped into the entry hall. There were a group of juves hanging out there, pressed up against the walls in their leathers and retro clothing playing at dice and jostling each other, but Guardian’s presence gave them pause as the two men passed. The interior of the mall was an open gallery that rose up the height of the shopping area with stores lining the exterior and a nice balacony view of the interior. The mallplex’s populace liked to hang out around the fountain, and tonight was no different though the area was far more crowded than usual. Mall security didn’t knowingly allow any of the gangs into the building, but this didn’t stop the rowdy juves from congregating.

DigitalScribe stopped when Guardian did so, the larger man scanning the people for signs of trouble before proceeding to the right towards the elevators. The entry to the business towers was along the northern wall, and to the left, but DigitalScribe figured they were taking a roundabout path to better assess the area, so he followed without a word. Along the way they passed men wearing IconAmerica, women wearing practically nothing at all (one of the latest fashion trends included covering oneself in transparent plastic and wearing designer lingerie underneath), but nothing that Scribe noticed Guardian tensing over. Entering the elevator they proceeded to the third floor where Guardian was, once more the first to exit.

From there they made a slow circuit about the balcony, Guardian surveying the whole of the lower floors from a better vantage, eyeing the Samson ‘borg as it strolled like a behemoth across the floor where teens were making out on benches and mothers were pulling their children close. Standing back from the railing, Scribe peered about the walk they were on, noting the woman wearing a black leather jacket that was obviously armored, but only covered one fifth of her upper body revealing a good bit of her rather generous assets, the clerk standing outside Skinlight, the body cosmetics shop, hands thrust into his pockets eyeballing the same girl, and the suit walking into Gelbert’s World Information right next door, obviously oblivious to Guardian and Scribe’s presence. No one seemed to be paying them too much mind after a quick glance, though the beautiful girl did smile at Scribe dazzling him with her dimples and pearly whites. Smiling back, he nearly missed Guardian turning from the railing and heading towards the bridge entrance.

The bridge connecting the shopping levels of the mallplex with the business complex spanned the canal, and as it was covered with bowed, tinted SmartGlass™, it was now just showing the raging waters running the canal below and the rain pelting the glass. The city skyline beyond was washed and blurred by the beading rain, but it wasn’t here that Scribe was looking. He had his eyes on the business complex’s doors.

The same holographic receptionist greeted them as before, and Scribe went through practically the same motions to gain access to J.D.’s office. The pair made their way to the small, secluded office in silence, noting that the majority of those who’d been there previously were gone, their workspace cold and dark but for the pale glow of computer monitors, the flashing red lights of their office phone, and a few desk lamps shining false sunlight on cultured plant life. J.D., however, was there waiting for them.

“It’s about time!” he whined slowly rocking in his seat.

“Hey,” Scribe spread his hands wide. “A man’s busy, ya know? How’s it look?”

“You come barging in on my workday, manipulate our conversation to pay me pennies for the work I’m doing—“

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it pennies—“

“—And then you question the quality of my work? Screw you, Jumper!”

Scribe chuckled and held out his hand expectantly.

“Uh-uh,” J.D. shook his head causing his fat jowls to sway back and forth beneath his stubble-covered chin. “Money first.”

“Now who’s insulting who? Huh?” All the same, Frankie reached into his wallet and produced the bills. “All cash, Choomba. Nothing to trace.”

The look on J.D.’s fat face said he could care less for the cash, but he took it none-the-less. Only those on the wrong side of the law, or those wishing to keep their financial transactions secret, dealt in cash anymore. With a slow move that was definitely exaggerated, J.D. placed the disk that Scribe had given him earlier back into the media’s hands.

“I think you’ll find it satisfactory,” the digital specialist grinned. “That was one helluvah show, Jumper.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Frankie held the disk up appreciatively and waved it a little before slipping it into his jacket pocket. “I’d suggest you forget you ever saw it.”

“Saw what?”

Frankie smiled his Hollywood smile and turned to exit the room, Guardian already out the door ahead of him. J.D. waited until they were gone for some time before settling back in his chair and letting out a long breath. After a moment more, he swiveled in his seat and pressed a button on his phone, picking up the receiver. It rang a couple of times before being picked up.

“They got it,” he breathed into the receiver in a conspiratorial tone, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on his conversation.

“Uh-huh. They should be leaving the mallplex within the next few minutes.” Pause. “Yup. It is as you asked, and I’ve uploaded the copy to the location you designated.” Another long pause. “Nice doing business with you too.”

Setting the receiver down in its cradle, J.D. pulled up his bank account online and smiled at the sight. “Ten thousand Euros,” he breathed happily.

DigitalScribe and Guardian made their way back across the bridge, the whole while Scribe was thinking about the best way to handle the media. He’d have to make copies of it, to be sure. They’d have to secure their well-being while participating in the negotiations so that meant they’d have to set up a delivery, or two, with contingencies.

“Let’s head over to Data Inc.,” Scribe suggested as he concluded his plan. That was another thing he didn’t particularly enjoy about the situation they were in. He normally operated on a fully functioning plan with contingencies already in place. Here, he was thinking on his feet, moving one step ahead of those that were tracking them. “Then we can get something to eat—I’m starving.”

Data Inc. specialized in netrunner programs, but Scribe happened to know that they’d also burn copies of datadisks for a price and that was the price he was willing to pay. So, after a bit of basic interaction with the clerk, he handed over the disk and turned to wait on the results, watching as Guardian continued to scan the mall from the doorway.

From his vantage, Guardian couldn’t see much of the floor, but what he did see set off warning bells in his head. Across the floor, near the escalators, there was a man who Guardian had been sure was watching them. As soon as Guardian obviously settled his attention on him, the fellow turned his attention to a balloon vendor presenting a purchased set of balloons to an Exotic; a blue cat woman wearing a white, sequined bikini that allowed her tail to protrude without hindrance. The man wore a black trench coat that was likely armored, and it was slicked by rain. His head was bald and glistening in the mall’s light. He wore a suit underneath his jacket, and black mirrorshades the likes of which were likely in the three hundred euro range. Scanning the areas to their left, and right, Guardian couldn’t see any others right away, and returning his gaze to the man’s position he’d lost him.

Just South of the New Harbor Mallplex – Studio City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 5:25pm

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:43pm

Scaling the fence had been a slow, tense process, but it was accomplished. Crouching low, the pair quickly made their way to the shadow of a building near a utility meter that provided them with some limited cover.

Guards have been rerouted. Proceed to northern building.

Following their instructions, MDK and Peacekeeper proceeded to the opposite corner and peered across the empty compound. There were no guards in sight, but the distance between the two buildings was about fifty meters, and it was lit by flood lights.

“You go,” Peacekeeper said, slinging her submachine gun forward. “I’ll cover.”

Not wasting the opportunity the mysterious netrunner had provided them, MDK bolted for the relative cover of the building, remaining low and moving like the wind that still carried the rainwater down upon them. There was a parking lot off to the right with a couple of jeep-like vehicles, both with steam rising from their hoods as the rain hit, but there was still no sign of the guards. Moving up to the eastern edge of the building, MDK peered around the corner, looking up the inside stretch of the L towards the doors. Still no guards. Motioning Peacekeeper over he waited until she arrived.

The door is unlocked. There’s three pairs of roaming guards inside the building as well as a security room holding four more. The hall inside the door is clear for now.

They went. MDK leading the way to the door and opening it with a quick, fluid jerk allowing Peacekeeper to slip inside, out of the rain. There was nothing they could about the water that was forming in puddles at their feet, and they message MDK received next set them in motion immediately upon entering.

Ahead, then right at the second hall. There will be a door there. I’ve unlocked it. Your friends are inside. You’ve maybe two minutes until the next patrol.

Pointing down the hall, MDK proceeded quickly to the first corner, peering around it to the right and securing their position. Leap-frogging past MDK, Peacekeeper proceeded on to the next hall, unaware that this was where they would be turning, she set up position and motioned MDK forward. The black-garbed assassin slipped around the corner and began to make his way down the hall, peering up at the numbered doors with the small windows.

213. I’ll unlock the door when you get there.

Sure enough, as soon as MDK stepped in front of the door he heard the audible click of the lock disengaging. To his left, Peacekeeper’s pretty brow furrowed as she readied herself to barge into the room.

Biotechnica Facility; Northernmost Building – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:42pm

“You don’t have to worry about baring any soul to me.” Freeway said sardonically. “I’d wager a good night’s sleep and a decent meal that this room is bugged, besides whether you tell me or not is irrelevant really, they’ll get it out of you in a few hours, I’m pretty certain of that.” He let a fleeting smile escape his lips, “The name’s more of a rank in my family than an actual name, but I use it with the zeroes coz they tend to remember it better than a real name. I’m just a driver, nothing more glamorous than that, big rigs, interstates and freeway’s.”

“You’re a nomad?” Bull’s Eye suddenly stopped his pacing and looked directly at Freeway, suspicion and appreciation a strange mix on his hardened face.

(OOC: Assuming a yes.)

“What nation?”

The conversation was led a little further down that road with Bull’s Eye sharing that he and Croaker had been with the Snake Nation before their family had been obliterated by the NCPD. Bull’s Eye doesn’t explain why the raid took place, but he relaxes some when Freeway relates what history of his he deems low-security enough to do so.

“So,” Firewind presses after the two nomads became acquainted some, and Bull’s Eye appeared to calm a bit more. “The person you were looking for…”

(OOC: whether Freeway reveals the story of how he got there or not, as well as who he is looking for…)

The medtech glanced at Bull’s Eye and raised his eyebrows, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t likely Merry Deth had been the source of Freeway’s search. It was about then that the door lock clicked, startling Keahi who spun about and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Bull’s Eye did the same, popping up ready to spring into action.

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:55pm

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:22am

"The girl, Mery Deth, daughter or not, is dead. Her system was so full of some type of enhancement bio drug that it killed her during our extraction of her."

Mr. Ackerman’s face froze, his eyes narrowing as the only sign of his sudden change in mood. “She was on drugs, you say? Was it an overdose? How did you figure this information out? And why the hell did you miss the drop? There might have been something we could have done for her.”

Ackerman suddenly lunged forward and put his face just out of head-butting range of Croaker’s. “I am holding you personally responsible for the death of my daughter, Mr. Tallon, so I suggest that you be forthcoming with your information. This is, after all, sovereign ground and the only justice you’ll find here is that which I dole out.”

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:23am

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 18:03:22.

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: Hello?

Glory? Grugg?

Once I finish Blammm's Syl, yours are the last. Glory, I'm just waiting for your answers to the questions posted above, and Grugg...well, I'm pretty much waiting on everything from the concept forward. With Star Trek dying out I may be able to start this sooner than expected. I just have to finish up with the characters.

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:14:53.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Planning on moving this again.

Tomorrow. That's when it should take place. That is, if I can find the time as my wife may want to have a family-oriented day due to the hectic past few days. We'll see.

Great posts by the way.

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:11:16.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Syls...

Crazy century plus history! Fleshing that out is what's taking the time. Nearly finished.

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:09:52.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: That wasn't funny.

Nope, not funny at all. Really Roger, you don't have to find humor in that, I promise.

OK, so I've made up for my mistake. Newspaper man interaction posted. Thanks for your patience. Oh, and I can't believe I missed the opportunity to ask JW for additional work. Where was my head that day!?

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:08:12.
Edited on 2008-09-21 at 06:08:56 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: How about....

Picking "him" up and swinging him around while making airplane noises?

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:07:04.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: If Eol brings it back.

I'll be sure to rejoin.

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:05:59.


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