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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: I doubt it is dying.

Olan gets wrapped up in real life some times. That's all the delay for the game is. Stick around Utan, I'm sure Olan has plans to move this forward sometime in the near future.

As for Kane: I'm sorry to hear it Tann, but I can understand time constraints.

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 06:05:23.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Backpost: On the way to the bar

The cool evening air carried the stigmatism of city stench upon it as the group wound their way through the city streets. The whole of the time Wyatt’s mood darkened as people popped off with salutations the like of, “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” and, “Howdy, Sheriff. Mighty nice to have you in town.” There were more, but after a spell, Sung had to force himself to ignore them lest he snap at one of them folk that so dared to be misguided and kind. He could understand their excitement over having Law in town, but to mistake the Law for him? That just wasn’t comprehensible to the captain. There might’ve been a time when he’d have entertained such a thought, but that time was as dead as the ranch he’d left behind, put to rest with the souls of his loved ones, and hung with the massacre he’d enacted on those responsible. Where’d the law been then!? Cow-towing to the local aristocracy, and bending in the wind like a weak sapling instead of being strong like the oak they needed to be.

Thinking on the past as these comments had charged him to do, Wyatt nearly missed the well-dressed gentleman approaching them after a turn, and that just drove the dour captain further into his mood. Reading the man as a non-threat for the time, Wyatt dismissed the idea of trying to intimidate him into leaving them alone and kept his hand free from his Colt.

“Excuse me! Sheriff! Charles Caesar of the Frisco Star. I was wondering if I could have an interview, or a few moments of your time for some questions?”

“You got it wrong, Puhn yo,” Wyatt’s tone held a warning to it that the newsman flat out ignored.

“Right. Right.” And there he was jotting something down on a pad. “Holding out for more money, I gitch ya. So is JW offering a salary, or is it a per head caught basis? Where are you from? How’d you get here? What made you choose the lawman style of life? Are you married? Do you have a family settling here? If you are a bachelor, let me tell you there are some many of a fine lady readers of my paper that would be interested. Is this fine young man your deputy? Jimmy! How do you know the sheriff? And who might this fine lovely lady be? Are you related to the sheriff?”

Wyatt stopped cold in the street, his head lowered slightly, his eyes on the ground. When he spoke, his tone was the messenger of death. “Mister, you’re Shiah Hwa, an’ if’n you print that Da Shiang La Se La Ch’wohn Tian you’re gonna find yerself losing more’n a few of yer readers when I pack up and burn atmo leavin’ this dirt rock for the vultures. Bai Tuo, Uhn Jin Yee Dien

Of course, that wasn’t it despite Wyatt telling the man to shut up. No. Even as the captain stood there really wanting to pistol whip the fellow, he started right into asking more questions and scribbling in that infernal notebook. Shaking his head slightly the captain of Rocinante pushed past the newsman and continued towards his pending rendezvous with JW, the whole while wondering if he could get away with asking Asher to do a little P.R. It was just an entertaining thought. Wyatt knew that Willow would never stand for it, and he didn’t need more trouble in this town with Sam getting stitched up and Wolf working on repairing their property (how much was that going to cost them?).

By the time Wyatt reached the bar, he was silently wishing he hadn’t promised Willow (as well as Summer and Eden) that he wouldn’t drink any more. What a good dousing of the brain in the numbing quality of liquor would do for him right then…

Posted on 2008-09-21 at 05:59:14.
Edited on 2008-09-21 at 06:03:34 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I hate to say it, but...

I'm going to have to turn down taking over the game afterall. With The Embodiment pending I don't know that I'll have the time to run another game. Sorry folks.

Posted on 2008-09-17 at 19:47:35.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Love posts from all involved.

I apprently completely neglected the interaction with the newspaperman in my last post, so heads up! I'll be editing my post as soon as possible.

Posted on 2008-09-17 at 12:43:32.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Heads up

I'm nearly finished with Sanya. Syl development...takes some time.

Posted on 2008-09-16 at 04:30:10.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: OK

Hammer, I checked again and while I have Salibat's history, I don't have the list of questions that Blammm posted for his character above. So, if you get me those, I can get to work on Salibat after Sanya.

Blammm, I'm working on Sanya now (just a heads up).

Glory, I don't have the questions for Nolera either, so please get those to me and I can get her development done.

Grugg...what happened?

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 21:11:44.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: I wasn't watching.

I figured you'd let us know when you posted to get things going again. Sorry. I've posted though. Looking forward to seeing if I can keep Char alive for a third adventure.

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 21:02:05.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: I have to admit...

This is one of my favorite games as well. Thanks, Roger!

I've posted, by the way.

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 21:01:05.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Getting things done.

The senator scuffles while you speak but watches you the entire time. He nods his head and says, “I see your point and I was gonna take care of this tonight. But I can see the issue burning in your head.” He looked over to where James and Willow were sitting and makes an odd shake of the head like he isn’t sure of what he is seeing. Then takes the chips in front of him and shuffles most of his stack into another pile before pushing them towards Wyatt. “You can cash them in at the bar, or if you’d like, take a seat, get a drink and join us.” He says with a smile and offers a shot glass for the whiskey bottle on the table. “You’re welcome too Kid, if you’d like.” He says to Asher. “But you’ll have to get your own stack.”

Wyatt steps forward and takes the stack up in hand, offering J.W. a nod before stepping back again. “Not the gamblin’ type, but thanks anyway.

“Look, there’s this other thing: those about town have taken t’ callin’ me, or Asher here, sheriff. Now, I don’t wanna go pissin’ on people’s boots, but I’d appreciate it if’n you could call ‘em off a bit? I’m gonna have enough trouble linin’ up additional work without there bein’ some negative connotation attached t’ my name, dohn-ma?”

Hoisting the chips in hand a bit to draw emphasis to them, Wyatt offers a final sheh sheh and turns towards the bar confident that the Kid would be watching his back. Once there, he cashes in the chips and peers around at the crowd through the mirror before settling on allowing those that was there from Rocinante to share a drink, and give Willow some more time with her man toy.

“Belly up, Kid,” Wyatt motioned to the bar. “Don’t know how much longer we’ll be dirtside so you best be getting’ yer fill of it now.”

“I’ll have a soda,” Wyatt orders when the barkeep approaches, resisting the urge to order a whiskey to calm what the day had done. Ignoring the looks he might’ve received, Sung began to contemplate where he might drudge up additional cargo for Rocinante, passengers might do as well. Perhaps something legal this time so they could spread their wings and fly right through that blockade…something with a nice payout attached too. In any case, he’s determined to mind his own business, not get tangled in J.W.’s web any further than they already had been (the whole Ludlow thing still had him bouncin’ about in his brainpan for some reason in the ‘Verse that they should have ran into both brothers within such a short amount of time. One was trackin’ a Sam, and Wyatt hadn’t ruled out that it wasn’t the miner either.

After a time sipping at his soda, he’d worked himself into feeling anxiety about Sam’s condition, and was intent on returning to Rocinante as quick as he could so as to facilitate the transfer of ice and land the next gig, returning Dash, Wolf, the mule, and all else to Roc as it should be. Downing the rest of his drink, Wyatt pushed away from the bar and motioned for Asher to follow, drawing up near Willow and the dandy.

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Then, almost as an after thought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

(OOC: Barring interruption, complications, trouble…they’ll return to the ship and prepare to handle the transfer of the ice. If there’s time to kill, Wyatt will spend it searching the cortex for additional work, or making his way about the docks looking for posted work there, but staying close to the ship, and bringing Asher with him should he leave Rocinante. Oh, and he’ll stow the money in his quarters in a “safe place”. They’ll return for Sam, Wolf, and the mule in the morning since the transfer will likely take place too late at night to be disturbing respectable folk. At least, that’s Wyatt’s plan. We’ll see what happens.)

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 20:58:07.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: All right, so the post is in place.

As I've stated, I didn't post for Spiff's continuation due to Sui's lack of response (probably due to my delayed response to his question here). However, it isn't a big deal seeing how he's so far ahead of the rest of you.

Raven, I took you as far as I did and left off there so that you'd have the opportunity to post any precautionary approaches/methods you were taking as Guardian before entering the mallplex. Do you have the Night City handbook? If not, please remember that the mallplex has multiple towers as well as a parking garage with multiple levels. The east towers are administrative and kind of the super market for the mallplexers. The central tower is the shopping concourse with the southern towers being living areas (two towers, one inset into the other) and the western tower also being living areas. The northern tower is the business complex, and Ebertech is contained in the top two floors. That's where J.D.'s office was located if you check back to page 15.

YeOlde, I looked through your character sheets to find some method for getting past the fence, but not seeing anything, I left it at that point so you could determine how you are getting through that particular obstacle.

Tann, conversation, conversation, conversation...

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 20:35:32.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: A Concerned Father...

Alley – South Night City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 4:31pm

Guardian’s speedware initiated, his finger depressing the trigger as his targeting reticule darted from the businessman to the lead assassin. The round was spent, the recoil flowing up the bodyguard’s forearm as the dangerous metal sped towards the enemy. The assassin was bringing his weapon to bear as well, but the round took him in the right shoulder, protected though he was by his armor, it still caused his body to twist slightly—not enough to stop him from popping off a round of his own.

As Guardian’s feet continued to pound the pavement he felt the impact of the 11mm round strike him in his armored chest. A smaller man might have had the wind knocked from him, but not Frank. He was dedicated to getting DigitalScribe out of this mess, and that meant ignoring the gnats.

For his part, Frankie wasn’t just going to duck his head and run for cover. His own weapon bucked in his hand, twice, as he spent the ammunition. The assassin’s leg jerked awkwardly and he slowed, but the second round bounced in a spray of water from his chest armor.

As DigitalScribe came up on Guardian’s left, the bodyguard felt the impact of the second assassin’s bullets striking his leg armor, but again, he was spared any additional pain though he still felt the flesh wound he’d sustained earlier as though it were on fire.

The corporate lapdog who’d first thought he was going to die at the hands of the large black man had apparently thought better once the shooting started and had dodged away towards the storefront in a flurry of fluttering, expensive cloth. He was no longer in Guardian’s sight as they slid up to the bright red city car. Guardian’s reticule darted from general body mass to the assassin’s armored head. He’d had better luck penetrating the armor of these goons in that location, so he thought he’d try it again. This time, however, the round left a smudge on the protective material of the faceplate. The shot was enough to cause the man’s head to jerk out of line of sight, his own gunfire discharging into the space beyond their location, striking a car much further down the road.

DigitalScribe followed Frank’s instructions to a tee, ducking into the city car, and sliding over to the passenger seat as the cockpit of the vehicle was turned to face them allowing the driver the space to get in curbside the same as the passenger. He ducked and swore as a round from the other assassin snapped against the cockpit door, tearing up the gray upholstery.

Attempting to keep the assassins in sight, Guardian dropped into the driver’s seat and fired off one more round for good measure. Again, the facemask held, deflecting the round, but luck was on their side. As Guardian hit the button to lower the cockpit door, the enemy gunfire was spent against the plastic of the vehicle, missing them entirely.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Frankie breathed excitedly, eyeing the two black garbed men with some trepidation as they continued their rush on the vehicle. He was confident they’d switch to full auto any second and discharge the entirety of their magazines into the thin material of the city car turning the two new occupants into Swiss Cheese.

With the sound of suction emanating throughout the cockpit, Guardian took hold of the steering control and jammed the vehicle into reverse. The four wheels of the city car were already facing in the right direction for a parallel parking job so it was a simple task darting out onto the one-way street. The gunfire had been enough to deter traffic in that area so they managed their merging without difficulty. Spinning the central portion of the steering control Guardian caused the cockpit to spin on its axis to face the right direction, and then the pedal was to the carpeted floor.

As they sped away from the scene, something bothered DigitalScribe. For some reason, the two assassins weren’t unloading on the vehicle. Twisting in his seat he watched as one of the men pointed after them while the other slung his submachine gun and turned to dash down the alley they’d just emerged from. Scanning the street, Frankie smiled as he saw the reason for them abandoning their task: two cop cars were heading towards the scene. They were a good two blocks away, but their lights were still flashing, and he was sure their sirens were blaring as well.

“We’ve got the police behind us by about two blocks,” Frankie said as he settled back into his seat. He was just glad that this wasn’t one of the more expensive versions of the car with the robotic monitor, or they’d be shut down and locked inside the vehicle like a nicely packaged gift for the police.
Reaching the thirty-five mile per hour limit for the street they merged with traffic on an adjoining street and began to put some distance between themselves and the incident.

“That was some wicked work back there, my friend,” DigitalScribe said as he felt his adrenaline start to die down and his hands start shaking a little. “You’ve definitely earned your pay today.

“Now, the big question is, how’d they find us? There’s no doubt in my mind that they were Biotechnica agents…unless you’ve pissed someone off I don’t know about.” DigitalScribe suddenly had a very nerve-racking thought. “Oh god. Get us back to the New Harbor Mallplex, Guardian. We’ve an appointment that we’re going to show up a little early for. If they tracked us this far, they might have already tracked us to—“ Frankie shook his head trying to think of all of the various methods they might have used to track them down. He wondered briefly if Croaker and the others were privileged enough to have been visited by the party, but it was a fleeting thought; his story hung on the line, and their continued safety should the story be lost.

He knew from their current location it would likely be about a half hour to forty-five minutes, depending on traffic, to the mallplex. They would be arriving just a few minutes early to pick up the doctored video footage.

Switching on the radio he scanned through the stations looking for the news, settling on KLIA News Radio. The newscast was currently focusing on overseas events, something to do with government involvement in the SouthAm again, and though the information registered with Frankie, he was slightly annoyed that it wasn’t on the local news. Rubbing at his eyes with the butt of his palms, Frankie turned to stare out of the bubble window at the city as it passed them by. There’d been the raid on the Wild Thing’s hang out that should have surely hit the news by now, and any flatfoot with a pad of paper could have found the posts put on the Internet by Preacher…the story had to of hit the news.

As they progressed through the buildings, reaching taller and taller structures, the news continued to cover the SouthAm situation.

”…Though the fighting was thought to be contained to the cartel’s compound it is now believed that DEA agents armed with what has been described as military grade weaponry did engage in a firefight with cartel forces in the streets of Panama City, apparently raiding a storage facility that the cartel was allegedly maintaining within the poorer district of Palca. While the death tolls have not yet been finalized, many civilian casualties were claimed by the Panama government while the spokesperson for the DEA, Isaiah Zin denied the claims stating that DEA operatives were focused solely on eradicating the new designer drugs—“

“Have you used your cell recently?” Frankie suddenly asked Guardian. Receiving his answer, he shook his head. “I’ve used mine. I think we should refrain from doing so in the near future. Bad idea apparently. I’m no techie, but they could track us through the GPS inherent to the phone, and that means that they have our information. They’re likely tracking down all known associates, working systematically through our contacts to find anyone we might go to for help.” DigitalScribe chuckled. “Good thing J.D. isn’t someone I hang around very often. That gives me hope—oh wait! I think this is it!”

The radio had finished with its SouthAm story and was now focusing on local news.

”…while the police continue to look for suspects in the recent firefight reported to have taken place on Bartholomew and Polk resulting in several thousands of Euro worth of damage, and at least eight injured, Lt. Manuel Tews of the NCPD has just finished with a press conference concerning the recent alleged gang shootout in downtown Night City.

“Lt. Tews stated that they are currently following leads that indicate the gunfight that killed over ten members of the Wild Things boostergang recently was not a turf war. He refrained from commenting further concerning just what those leads were, and to what they pointed, but has promised to keep the public informed as more leads become available.

“Meanwhile, more gunfire has caught the attention of the NCPD on the outskirts of Rancho Coronado and Pacifica believed to be related to corporate infighting…”

“That’s our lead, right there,” Frankie breathed a little easier. The fact that the news was now tied into the story would help him continue the sale of it to the Network. A few minutes later and the towers of the New Harbor Mallplex became visible amidst the rest of the city skyline.

“Well,” Frankie smiled at Guardian, relief evident on his handsome face. “Guess we’re free of those assassins. What do you say we dump this vehicle a couple of blocks from the mallplex so as not to carry the dirty trail on inside?”

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

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm

“Ok,” MDK said to her in a whisper, “your right, if the others were taken then they are probably inside there, so I guess we better get them before they tell them about the rest of us.”

He turned his head to scan the area around the facility before turning back to her.

“Tell Jack that if we are going to go in there,” nodded his head at the stronghold, “his netrunner had better be good. Here is what we will need… they have to get those security cameras on a loop…a long one…then disable the perimeter scanners…if possible..cause some kind of alarm on the other side of the complex…something to draw as many guards as possible. If they can do that…we might have a chance to get in there…if not…well hope you don’t mind being a ‘dead’ hero.” He smirked at the last, something that didn’t invoke confidence.

Jaimy scowled at his cavalier attitude, but nodded and began texting back. The smaller keyboard of her phone and the heightened intuition of the word selection made it so that her typing was nearly as fast as talking, and within a few seconds she’d received confirmation that the message had been sent, and was waiting on Jack’s reply.

The netrunner is already in their mainframe. Everything else should be doable.

“He said it’s a go,” Peacekeeper whispered back, shifting to get a better look at the facility once more as MDK slipped his mask and bandana back into place.

“Tell the net runner to monitor us on the cameras,” MDK said in a hushed tone as he checked his ammunition and scanned the area before them, “and give him my optic frequency 038.830 so the runner can send me directions and warnings via the marquee in my optics.”

Jaimy immediately relayed the information. She had worked with netrunners before—they were about as useful as a decent fixer when it came down to the necessity of having one on board. She was thankful to Jack for coming through. After a moment, she received the texted response.

The ‘runner is tapped in. Ready for the go ahead.

That’s when a message scrolled across the bottom left hand corner of MDK’s left eye: I’ve found a fairly clear five minute block of time on the camera feed. Beginning loop…now.

“Follow my lead,” MDK whispered to Peacekeeper as he crept forward, “do exactly as I say and we might get out of this alive…not likely…but maybe.”

Jaimy shook her head at his back and slid the phone back into her pocket, gripping her weapon tightly, and creeping forward a few feet behind him.

The decent towards the fence was approximately thirty meters, and they devoured it in about two minutes. This left the fence to deal with…

The electricity to the fence is null. The message scrolled across MDK’s eye as though on queue. That left the simple problem of getting through it. The top was covered in razor wire and it was nearly fourteen feet high. The metal of the chainlink was too thick for the cutter in MDK’s Swiss Army Knife, so it would have to be another solution.

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

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm

“I don’t know what they do here,” Freeway answered. “But with the security they have around the place I’d wager it isn’t something they want the rest of the world to know about. I’m here looking for someone, but finding her isn’t my main priority right now.”

Keahi tilted his head to the side at the response. “Finding someone?” For a moment he wondered if the missing person happened to be the very same that they’d been hired to procure…the one that had died in the van due to that strange side effect from the intelligence enhancer.

Bull’s Eye turned away from the door releasing an expletive. “That thing’s sealed up nice and tight!”

Firewind raised his eyebrows as though to say, ya think!? Then prompted Freeway further absolutely positive that they’d need his help to get out of this mess. “We’re here looking for something rather than someone, but we started the night looking for someone.”

“Shut up, Choomba!” Colton growled as he turned on the medtech. “You don’t know if you can trust this sumbitch, so don’t go bearin’ your soul!”

Firewind held up his hands a bit in defense, then decided on another route. “Your name. Freeway. How’d you get it?”

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

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:15am

“Not speaking to me are we?” the suit said with a slight smile on his weather-worn face, his voice a bit gravelly. “Perhaps we haven’t built that bridge of trust yet, Mr. Tallon. My name is Mick Ackerman, and according to reports, you and your crew did exactly as you were hired to do. You snatched my daughter from the sinful den of those street rats, the Wild Things. Only, this is where I’ve become a bit confused. You see? You were supposed to bring her back to me, and you haven’t. Instead, I find you snooping around outside of my facility for some odd reason.”

Ackerman continued to smile as he gave Croaker’s knee a slight pat. “All of this could have been avoided had you but delivered my daughter to me, Mr. Tallon. All of the pain you’ve experienced—the pain your friends will experience…”

Ackerman’s hand shifted to one of Croaker’s bandaged wounds where it hovered, the corporate’s eyes shifting from the nomad’s face to the hand as though drawn by the macabre intention of it. “It all could have been avoided, Mr. Tallon.”

Rising from his seat, Mr. Ackerman surprisingly enough did not press down upon the wound, but straightened his coat instead and met Croaker’s gaze once more.

“Rest assured, Mr. Tallon, that I will find your friends, and we will round them all up for a grand reunion where you tell me where my daughter is. I’ve the resources, the patience, and the determination to make this a very miserable time for each and every one of you—young Miss Hammond, your friend Mr. Tordesky…I’m already offering my hospitality to your friends, Mr. Harris, Mr. Makani, and the fellow called Freeway. It is only a matter of time before I’ve rounded all of them up. You might as well save me the trouble and just tell me where my daughter is. You can understand my concern, I’m sure.”

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

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 20:29:44.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Yup...I did miss it.

My bad. I guess I can post now since Sui is so far ahead of you guys time wise, we don't need to wait on his conversation.

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 17:26:15.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Char'll bite.

Char sat back a bit from the others. Like Da’ Moon, Char was uninterested in social interaction. When he’d received the summons it had taken him some time to resolve his indecision and return to the city, and as such, aside from the irritable little rogue, he had been the last to rejoin the party. He’d made his greeting to Arien with a warm clasp of the forearm and a pat on the shoulder, asking after the knight’s sister and quickly catching up on what had been occupying the knight’s time over the past few months. Maximus and Valentine, he’d greeted with a nod of recognition and a similar clasp to the wrist, though it wasn’t filled with nearly the same level of friendship as Arien’s had been. Kilgim, on the other hand, had received the same as Arien: warm clasp of friendship, some “’ow ya been?”, and the like. And when Da’ Moon had finally entered the room with Sunset on her shoulder, the greeting Char presented was respectful of her mood, and, at first, more focused on the pseudo dragon, and getting to know the little creature once more. Once he was finished with Sunset’s greetings and scratching her under the chin, he smiled at Da’ Moon and winked.

“Anudder fer da bards, eh?”

He hadn’t allowed her time to respond, but had made his way back to a chair against the wall where he could observe the entire room with equal impunity, and it was there he remained, quiet unless spoken to.

When Dwan, Gwanele, and the newcomer entered, Char figured the man with the bird to be another of Gwanele’s pets, and dismissed him until introductions were made. Nodding his thanks to Terrin for the beer, Char settled back in his chair and waited while the dwarven leader situated himself.
“Terrin, before you go, could you get me …” Dwan began, but Terrin had already reached under the cloth of the trolley and produced several maps which he then handed to the stout man.

“Okay gentleman, let’s get down to business.” The dwarven leader began, “This is Mathius Rath, a mage of vast power who has served the Iron League before. I have asked him to join you on this particular mission because of the possible arcane threat involved. I trust him as I do all of you so please welcome as an addition to the team.

“Now that that is settled, we have a town and farming community to the south east of here called Hevlorn. The town is having a problem and has asked for help. Started with cattle – one or two disappearing in the night, no trace, no carcass, nothing. Then, very recently, people disappeared - young women mostly but a few boys as well.”
Char took a deep breath and silently let it out. Another magic-user…well, at least this one didn’t appear as to be as strange a companion as the last had been. Char felt a momentary pang of guilt at the thought, but swallowed it with a sip of beer and wiped the froth from his mustaches with the back of his grimy hand.

Dwan proceeded after taking a drink himself and though Char appeared disinterested, he paid close attention as each and every detail could be vital to their survival. This last mission hadn’t exactly been a walk in the King’s Park, and the ranger never liked losing a companion no matter how strange the individual. So, he registered all of the key notes, put away the rest for later perusal, and made no attempt to interrupt. Eventually Gwanele rose up from her seat and cast her gaze from face to face, seemingly ready to call the meeting to a close; “Any questions?”

“Hold on Gwanele.” Dwan interrupted, “Tell them the other stuff.”

“It really doesn’t concern the mission,” the woman protested after regarding the party and then fixing her gaze back on the dwarf.

“They are risking their lives for me,” Dwan stated firmly, “I won’t send them in without knowing everything. You know that. They have met those possessed by demons in both missions. They found the crystals. They are tied to this somehow and you know it.”

The archmage sighed ruefully, “How much do any of you know about the Elven blood wars?”

Char raised his eyebrows. He’d heard the songs, the legends told around the campfires, but aside from finding the occasional reminder of the Wars in ruins he was pretty much uneducated. Still, if the arch-mage was referring to a time that far back in history, Char had to take notice. That’s when the new magic-user sighed and spoke up. “A bit more than what might be passed along in a standard history lesson, perhaps, my Lady,” he answered, rising to his feet again before beginning to relate the history of the Elven Blood Wars.

The woodsman listened as attentively to Mattius’ commentary as he had Gwanele’s, pondering the world of magic as a secondary line of thought, and what complications it brought to an otherwise simple life. He’d once been told that magic was supposed to make life better, but the more he dealt with it, the more he doubted it was worth the headache.

“…Despite what might be said in that regard, though,” Mattius continued, staring into the depths of his goblet at the near black remains of the wine, “I’m not entirely certain that I believe that. Just because mortal eyes didn’t glimpse the happening does not mean that the happening did not occur, regardless of what historians might have us believe and not all of those that dwell in the outer planes are as fond of a grand entrance as Lolth and Azazel might have been…”

Char’s lip curled at the right side and his eyes narrowed. Not all of those that dwell in the outer planes are as fond of a grand entrance as Lolth and Azazel might have been… That practically smelled of trouble. The possessed and—what was the word Alloryn had used to describe those in the Duke’s keep? Oh yes: transmuted—that had been strange enough. The Thri-Kreen had been dangerous and Char still wasn’t sure as to how they fit into the mix, but that green-armed Imperial had been downright disturbing. Bloody udderwor’ly bas’ar’s, Char growled to himself.

“So,” he said into the silence Mattius had left behind. “Ya tinks we be facin’ sum’tin’ demonic an’ undead dis time?”

He didn’t like that idea. The undead were just creepy and unnatural, and demons…well, they were a whole other spectrum of unnatural. It went against the order of things, and that always bothered the ranger.

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 17:21:31.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Not at all Sui.

As a matter-of-fact, most low ranking fixers start off by working for a higher ranked fixer as part of their organization. Spiff is doing things the hard way.

I was hoping for a post from Tann, but if I don't see one by tomorrow morning, I'm posting anyway.

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 16:47:41.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Maybe I will, but there are some conditions...

The first condition being that I need to know how many people can dedicate to at least one post a week (because that's all I can really dedicate myself to).

I'll likely have to find some way to switch up some positions that the characters hold, so there may be some strangeness for the first bit.

And everyone has to realize that this is Eol's game, so if he ever get's the bug back, I'm taking second fiddle again.

So, we know the Romulans are still with us, and YeOlde...who else?

Posted on 2008-09-13 at 16:46:10.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: I haven't had much free time.

So, I'm still working on the character sheets. Thanks for your patience.

Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:47:52.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: OK, I've moved most of you forward some.

Freeway, Bull's Eye, and Firewind, you aren't going to receive a visitor before morning, but that's not to say things won't happen before then. That's dependent upon MDK and Peacekeeper.

Tann, I know you're busy, but the interaction was inevitable.

MDK...what makes a hero?

Raven, you're the only one who didn't post so I didn't move your group forward.

Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:47:08.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Done.

I gave you that intro... though I didn't react much to Blake. I figure Wyatt would be more prone to react to Willow's reaction, than Blake's introduction, and since I didn't have that...well, I didn't react.

It was 1,000 credits.

Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:44:18.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: OK, a little to go with...

“Good Evening Gentlemen,” Wyatt looked over to the dandy as he spoke, a deadpan expression on his weathered face, “My name is Blake. James Blake. I was asked by an associate of mine to come here to inform you that the coast is now clear. The bird has flown. The owl has left the nest. The eggs are back in one basket. The Alliance ship just….” His voice trails off as he spots Willow. Once he sees her, it is like no one else is in the room except her and him. His eyes take in the doctor with a smoldering desire, and his lips curl into a smile that is both dashing and demure at the same time. He walks directly over to Willow, looking deep into her eyes and says, “I have never had a dream come true before, until now.”

Softly under his breath, the Kid muttered, “Mighty pretty words… almost as pretty as dem shoes.” Asher let out a little cough. The Kid takes another swig from the bottle, his eyes stay on the newcomer, waiting for a word from the Captain or Miss Willow.

Sung remained still, staring at the man in his pressed suit, his obvious upbringing. He immediately didn’t trust him. Of course, Wyatt didn’t trust most people, and he’d long ago learned to trust Willow’s assessment of a man’s mettle, so he just watched while Willow responded, looking for the sign of acceptance that she’d give should they trust the man’s word.

(OOC: assuming Willow accepts Blake.)
“All right, Mr. Blake,” Wyatt drawled. “I appreciate your message-bearing skills an’ all. Now, might ya be willin’ to impress me something more by tellin’ me where ol’ J.W. is?”

(OOC: Following Alacrity’s lead here we’ll do just as he suggested in the QA thread and hunt down J.W. Upon encountering him…)

Wyatt approached the man with a brief nod of acknowledgment. “J.W., I’m sorry to be interruptin’ your evenin’ activities, but there’s a small matter that needs addressin’ before the shadows get too long.

“Our man was on his way t’ the bank with yer pretty miss to receive payment fer our…delivery. We’d already arranged with Miss Brigit for the pick up, but I’m gonna need the payment ‘fore that can go down—a matter of one thousand credits. I’m sure you understand. We appreciate all that’s been done since, and ‘afore, but a man can’t run a business by lettin’ things like that slide.”

Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:42:58.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Some orders.

"Lt. Kernan, Sir, could you put that chair on this table so I can hang up this drip and get his ribs taped ."

Monty sets his rifle down on the top of one of the desks and silently proceeds to comply with the field medic’s request. Once the table is in position he locates anything he can to give the drip elevation, and something to secure it with while Johannsen proceeded to address Lee’s wounds.

"Get this down with the equivalent of a full glass of water.” Johannsen’s instructions were soft as she spoke with her patients. Kernan shifted about her to make sure he was providing what assistance he could while Blake worked her magic on the computer and Kane watched the door.

"How are your ribs and are you having trouble breathing?” Inga checked his ribcage even while she asked the question.

"Lt. Kernan, Sir. I could use your help with taping up Pearson's ribs and mine, Sir."

Monty silently moved to her side and proceeded to offer what assistance he could with the patient, and then with Inga. It was all business with the man, straight forward, dour business.

When Inga sat down and pulled out her log book to take note of all she’d done, Monty moved back to his weapon and settled into a chair. He was feeling fatigued despite their rest. A good portion of it, he knew, was the results of adrenaline leaving his system. Rubbing his eyes, the Lieutenant’s gaze fell on Blake as she worked and he wondered if she’d be able to live up to the expectation. They were all relying on her to get through those damnable computer defenses and show them just what they were dealing with. If she failed…Monty took a deep breath. What would he do then? How would he get these people out alive, and find those that were MIA? He’d be the one to brave the cold and get that satellite link set up if it came down to it. It would have to be him, or Kane. The others were too specialized in their fields, too important to the mission. No, he’d get the message out if it killed him.

"SSGT Kane," Inga’s voice broke the Lieutenant’s contemplative silence. "I just thought that the area of the observatory keeps switching about and different times and places keep popping up there. Perhaps you could keep trying to call the others and if they return, tell them to get out of that area."

Without sitting up or even turning his head Pearson spoke, painfully, "Corp'ral? I don't think ... they're there anymore ... If they were in ... the cave, that thing ... would'a got them too ... an' they weren't there ... that I saw, but ... they might be where ... the 'servat'ry went ..." Here, Pearson was wracked with coughing. The coughing subsided relatively quickly, leaving the private weak and breathing raggedly, grimacing in pain but silent except for an occasional soft grunt.

Corporal Johannsen looked over worriedly when Cpl. Pearson began coughing. While Kernan watched she quickly checked on Lee and then moved over to Pearson to help him out.

"How are you doing Corporal Pearson?" Inga asked while taking up his wrist to check his pulse. "I want to get you into a reclining position and not on your back but I don't want you to do anything but lie there.

"Lt. Kernan, Sir I need you assistance. I need something to prop Col. Pearson up on so he is not on his back like this and I need a hand getting him up into a reclining position."

“Sit back and take some time to rest, Corporal,” Monty ordered Johannsen. “I’ve got it.”

That said, Kernan snatched up Pearson’s pack and moved to position it underneath the grenadier in such a way as to receive Inga’s nod of approval. “Hold tight, Ranger,” Monty said in a low tone to Pearson as he gave the man’s should a soft pat. “We’re all getting’ the hell outta here as soon as we can.”

Turning from the injured man, Lt. Kernan made his way slowly back to where he was sitting and hoisted his weapon. “Kane, take a seat. No use in wearing yourself out further just watching a door. And for whatever it’s worth, keep trying Hatherford and Hart on the radio…just in case.” Moving about the room, Monty contemplated what Inga had said a little further. Perhaps what had happened in the Observatory was going to happen all over the facility and perhaps it was rotating realities, just like she’d suggested. Unfortunately, there was no way to be absolutely positive until Blake broke that code, and even then it was just as likely that whatever was happening wasn’t documented. Hell, he was sure that the results weren’t what they’d planned.

All they were supposed to do was get in, determine the condition of the facility’s staff, get all of the information on the operation, and get out. Now they were trapped in some extradimensional shell where reality took a side seat to fiction. Shaking his head, Monty returned his attention to searching through the contents of the room. Perhaps he’d find something to help Blake out, to help them all out. Perhaps not.

Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:27:17.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: A future? What future?

I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:50am

“You order online, no?” Kremlin said, still smiling. “Not soon enough? There are plenty-enough stores through city. You find with no problem. Now, tell me, Mr. Spiff, how is it that I do not know of you? Who’s shadow are you emerging from? We could use business associate with your gift of…how you say? Gab?”

"I will tell you, but if it's not to much trouble, could we stop by one such place on the way back to The Docks. I'd hate to be walking around Night City carrying this thing."

Kremlin chuckled and motioned towards the blackened windows where the freeway lights were barely penetrating the tint in a feeble attempt to illuminate the storm swept darkness. “It is not morning even, Mr. Spiff. There will be no store open at this hour. But I will do you another favor, yes? I will provide duffle bag from ship. Then you can break rifle down and pack it from sight.” If the man were perturb that Spiff seemed to be avoiding the offer for employment, he wasn’t letting on.

Spiff picked up his drink to take another sip. Before he pressed the glass to his lips, he paused and raised it up so he could see the clear liquid and the swirls of translucency that proved it to be alcohol, rather than water.

"Where do you get your vodka Mr. Kremlin?"

“I have imported from Motherland, Mr. Spiff. It is well worth the endeavor, no?”

"And why wouldn't you buy it from somewhere else?"

“Ha!” Kremlin practically coughed as he laughed. “There is no other place to buy real vodka!”

"And how do you know it is good vodka?"

Kremlin’s eyes glinted and a smile played at his puffy lips. “You tell me, Mr. Spiff.”

"You see, good vodka is hard to come by. It must be properly fermented, properly flavored, and most definitely properly filtered. But looking at good vodka, you can see a very big difference between it and bad vodka. Cheap vodka tastes thick, and the swirls of alcohol mixing in it are very prevalent. Expensive vodka is smooth. You can look at it, as I do with this glass, and see through it clearly. You have to focus on its appearance to find the swirls and even then many miss it."

Spiff took a sip of his drink and smiled, licking his lips.

"Good alcohol is subtle, Kremlin. So is a good speaker. In fact, I'm so very subtle, that you may have even heard of me before, and yet this day you are looking me in the face as though a stranger. I don't showboat my abilities unless it pays off to do so." He set his glass down and smiled. "Now, I already told you: if you want use of my gift, it doesn't come cheap. I work for myself and myself alone, but I like you guys. Helping gentlemen like you all for a bit of cash is not out of the question. I just wouldn't count on me being around forever. If that's reasonable to you, then we can work something out. If it's not, then I appreciate your business transaction and thank you for your time."

“How does that American song go?” Kremlin tilted his glass towards Spiff in a toast. “The desperado, he is sitting on fences for so long…

“Every man finds his start somewhere, Mr. Spiff. Even those who sit on fences as it were must choose a side eventually. Lone wolves are a danger to organizations; they are chaos in an organized society. Who would trust a lone wolf when it is better to trust a comrade? We,” Kremlin spread his hands wide to encompass the whole of the vehicle in his reference. “Are not a small people. We are the Russia, and we are offering you a home, Mr. Spiff, not a job.”

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

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:50pm

“This is not good,” MDK whispered to Peacekeeper. “This place is heavily guarded.”

The bounty hunter had come to that conclusion as well. Her heart had sank when she’d witnessed the veritable fortress they surveyed. How would they be able to break that? Especially without bringing the whole of the facility down around them.

“I hope that boyfriend of yours has some connections,” MDK drawled with a little humor in his voice that prickled Jaimy’s skin, “we are going to need some serious hardware in order to penetrate their security field and take on this kind of muscle.”

“Better give him a call and report our findings.” He told her as he kept an eye out for any outer perimeter patrols.

With a slight shake of her head, Peacekeeper dropped behind the girth of a tree trunk to shield the light of her phone from those below. Croaker didn’t have a cell, but Firewind did, and they’d shared numbers to facilitate communication, so it was his number that she dialed. Placing the receiver to her ear she waited as it rang. Eventually it picked up and a strange voice answered.


Peacekeeper paused, her voice caught in her throat for a moment. Had she entered the wrong number when she’d taken note of Firewind’s contact information? No, she had called him to verify.

“Who is this?” she asked in a low, guarded tone.

”Who is this?” came the returned query.

Peacekeeper abruptly hung up.

“I think there’s a problem,” she whispered to MDK as she sidled up next to him again, the phone still held in her hand. “I don’t think that was Firewind that answered the phone, and it sure as hell wasn’t Croaker, or Bull’s Eye.”

“I got a bad feeling about this,” MDK said, “I get the impression someone knew we were coming.”

He turns to her and sitting on the ground in the brush he lifts up his battle mask and pulls down the armored bandana and his silvery metallic orbs lock on her.

“Roving patrols apparently looking for someone,” he says in a whisper, “a lot of heavy security here, and we have to assume for now that the others have been killed, or at best captured. Either way, that leaves us here alone.”

He raised an eyebrow as he watched the expressions of worry upon her face for Croaker and the others, “So, do we go back and verify the condition of your boyfriend and the others? Or do we make a new plan?” He sat there waiting for her reaction and suggestions.

Jaimy glanced away from those unnerving eyes and studied the compound. Her heart was being twisted and her stomach was filled with butterflies. Was Croaker dead? She agreed with MDK in that the facility had received a warning of some sort. They had, after all, been looking for a threat when the patrol had been ambushed. What if another patrol had found Croaker, Firewind, and Bull’s Eye? Would they have been as capable as MDK had been at dispatching the enemy? She knew Croaker was tough, and he was a decent shot, but she didn’t know much about Firewind and Bull’s Eye. That voice meant that at least Firewind was no longer with his phone, and that meant…Peacekeeper jerked as her phone buzzed silently in hand.

Peering up at MDK again, she cautioned him to wait as she slid back around the tree and opened the display. A simple message read in green:

I’ve a netrunner on board. What’s your 20?

It was Jack’s contact information. Jaimy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d almost thought he’d left them to boil. Her fingers worked the small digital keyboard as quickly as they could being cold and wet for as long as they’d been.

On target. she typed. I think we’re alone.

She waited.

What’s the gun count? came the reply within seconds.


Jaimy glanced over to MDK and whispered, “It’s Springed-Heel Jack. He’s a netrunner ready to assist, but…” Her phone vibrated again.

Are you capable?

“He’s asking if we’re able to proceed,” Peacekeeper raised her thin eyebrows. “A netrunner might be able to get us past the e-sec. If Croaker and the others aren’t dead, they might be in there—“ She checked herself. “—And we still need what’s in there to ensure our safety, and an end to this bull sh*t. What do you say?”

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:35pm

“Your friend’s right, you need to get some sleep. Both of you look like s*** and that door isn’t going anywhere in a hurry.” The blonde man drawled sliding back to the floor, using the wall to support the full weight of his body as he did so. He didn’t appear concerned or intimidated at the gruff demands of the new arrival.

“Our side, or not?” Bull’s Eye growled again.

“Oh,” the man on the floor said with a dispassionate tone, apparently content to ignore the nomad’s veiled threat. “And don’t think about jumping the guards next time they come back in.” He patted the bruising mark just below his hairline “Been there, done that. When they take you out for interrogation make sure you take note of everyone you see and every door you pass. This place is a maze and if you’re at all planning on getting out you don’t want to be wasting time deciding which way to go.”

He stared past Bull's Eye, a contemplating expression on his face, “Get some sleep and I’ll tell you what I know when you’re done”. With that he closed his eyes and covered his eyelids with his hand, offering them as much shade as he could from the fluorescent glow of the ceiling paneling. Finally he shifted slightly away from the two men and the door.

“And the name’s Freeway.”

Keahi couldn’t help but smile a bit at the pissing match. He couldn’t sleep, and he knew it. The situation, the eventual interrogation that Freeway had hinted at, his hatred for the megacorps—it had his blood boiling and the temperature of it would never let him relax even for a moment.

“Freeway,” Firewind moved to the corner near the door and dropped into it. “How long have you been here? Do you know what they do here? And, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you locked away?”

“He could be a damn plant,” Bull’s Eye growled, preferring to remain standing. “Put here by the corporation to gain our trust and get the information they want out of us without having to damage the meat—meat’s worth something, especially to this corp.

“Are you a plant, Freeway? Huh?”

“Give it a rest, Bull’s Eye!” Keahi stared at the nomad with a incredulous look on his tattooed face. “Even if he were a plant, he wouldn’t frackin’ tell you!

“Look, Freeway, I’m sorry for Bull’s Eye’s bull sh*t. He’s a little strung up, and seein’ how his tribe-brother just got filled full of lead by a minigun, well, he’s got a bone to pick.”

“Bone to pick…” Bull’s Eye glared at the medtech. He knew what Firewind was saying was true. He was taking his anger at the situation out on their cellmate, but he didn’t want to admit it right then. “Shut up, Firewind. You don’t know sh*t!”

“God,” Keahi dropped his head back against the wall where it rested in the corner. “What I wouldn’t give for an airhypo and a sedative. Croaker will live, Bull’s Eye. I saw to that before they threw us in chains. Now, if you want to see him again, I suggest we do what we can to remain civil and productive.”

“Oh, now he’s a tactician and a leader, huh?” Bull’s Eye made his way to the door and started investigating it around the seams. “I’ll get us out of here—oh, and, Freeway, you may have tried to jump them by yourself and got your ass kicked, but now there’s three of us, so I’m not throwing nothin’ out the window just yet.”

Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:15am

The door to Croaker’s room opened admitting two men in suits. They were clean cut, rigid in the jaw, and straight-backed. Each took a position on either side of the door, hands clasped before them as another suit walked in on their heels.

“You must be Croaker,” the man said. He was tall, regal-looking, with brown hair and broad shoulders. His suit looked like it cost a lot of money, and though his skin was deeply tanned and wrinkled, his blue eyes sparkled like gemstones caught in the sands of time. His thin lips twisted in a smile as he sat on Croaker’s bedside and shifted to stare at the nomad’s face. “What a situation we find ourselves in, no? You and your crew were hired to return something to me that I’d lost, and yet here I sit. I have you and two of your companions, but that which I sent you after in the first place eludes me. Why is that, Croaker, or should I say, Mr. Tallon?”

Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:17am

Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:03:31.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Freeway

Freeway promised he'd post this weekend and then I'll move us on.

Posted on 2008-09-01 at 21:19:02.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Moving out.

‘Captain-san,” Willow said, “Let’s not look for more trouble than what’s staring us in the face. The Tong have no reason to interfere with us, I’m sure tomorrow’s visit is a courtesy, nothing more. Believe it or not, there are some people who like to spend time around me,” she dimpled momentarily before continuing in a serious tone.

‘What worries me is that we’ll have miners showing up to unload contraband that’s not been paid for, and the lone person there is a recluse with a pink shotgun, and no qualms about using it. We need to get this straightened out with JW. If that means snooping before dark, that’s what we do.”

Willow started to turn away, thinking to get back into her “public” appearance of kimono and formal hair, but turned back with a mischievous smile. “Now, Captain-san, by snooping, you do mean “be very visible and girly and draw every eye in the place so no-one notices you and Asher looking around and having quite conversations”, don’t you?”

“Go gussy yerself up, Willow,” Wyatt gave her the affirmation she needed with a nod of his head, and the statement. As she walked away, he turned back to the window, but addressed Asher. “There’s the possibility that we’re going t’ need some PR, Kid. I think Sam and Wolf’ll do just fine here with the Doc while we sort out our business. So, you might wanna pack all o’ that gear and get ready to go. We leave as soon as Willow’s ready.”

While waiting for the others to resolve their personal items and appearance, Sung found the doctor, still working through Wolf’s wounds. Peering down at the large mechanic who’d just joined their crew, he could only shake his head and offer an apology.

“Wish I could say it ain’t always like this, Wolf,” Wyatt’s voice was low. “But, I ain’t the lyin’ type. Some days go smoother n’ others…Look, I appreciate you being all Gao Guhn an’ hope this don’t affect your decision to be our mechanic none. That looks a might pain-filled, but I’m sure the Doc’ll hook you up right shiny, so I’d appreciate it if you could see to the mule. We’re likely gonna need it, and money’s tight so I can’t afford t’ just put it out to pasture. We’ll swing back ‘round before too long t’ pick you an’ Sam up, and hopefully dust this mudball with another contract in hand.”

(OOC: Wolf’s answer.)

“Now, Doc,” Wyatt turned his attention to the old man. “I also gotta offer my appreciation for your care of my crew. Like I said, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to credits, but I never leave a debt unpaid, so name yer price an’ I’ll see to it you get paid.”

(OOC: Whatever the answer…)

“I got two more things t’ ask, Doc. Where do you think I can find J.W., and would you mind if Sam and Wolf stick around until we get back?”

(OOC: Assuming a couple of suggestions as to where J.W. might be, as well as admittance that the two can stay.)

“That’s right good of ya, Doc.”

Wyatt killed time then, waiting on Willow to show in her shiny kimono an’ all, by making his way into the room where Sam lay attached to the machines. Sung stood in the door for a moment eyeballing the pilot’s many bandages, the discarded ballistic mesh, and absorbing the soft hum of the machines. They’d arrived just in time, and the toll that had taken on their good luck was immense, Wyatt was sure of it.

“Eight lives left, Puhn yo,” Wyatt said quietly. “Sure wish you were goin’ along on this little ride. I’m sure that Asher and Willow’ll help, but there’s more Joo How Rin when the whole of us are on our feet.”

Standing in the silence a little longer, Wyatt shifted in order to leave, pausing and peering back at the mesh. “We’ll get ya another shirt, an’ then we’ll end this Ma Fuhn an’ be back in the Black.”

Returning to the den, Wyatt waited on Willow in silence contemplating the pending events of the evening. He wished the Doc had some elephants he could pat, a rabbit’s foot, anything that could help things go down with a little more luck, but by the time Willow emerged looking her dazzling self, he had settled on relying on the Luck of Three once more. With a nod to the Doc, he offered Willow his arm and led the way to the streets. He informed Willow and Asher of the doctor’s suggested whereabouts concerning J.W., and headed for what he perceived to be the closest of them. He’d left his destroyed hat back at the Doc’s and felt naked without the brim shadowing his eyes, but it would have to do for now. He was ever vigilant, looking for any who might be following them, any who might be inching their way looking for trouble, and he kept his Colt within easy reach.

The plan was simple: find J.W. and get paid before those dockhands showed up at Rocinante looking to unload. At least, Wyatt hoed it was simple.

Posted on 2008-09-01 at 21:14:51.

Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: might have.

If you did, I don't have the questions above for Salibat any longer. I've gone through the Recruitment thread, this thread, and my P.M.s and don't see it.

Posted on 2008-08-29 at 03:15:47.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Nice work!

That's a sweet model, Eol. I've never used that program. I use Hash's Animation Master for modeling (and since I haven't done any video game work in years, I am real rusty).

As far as sneakin' about and such: Wyatt will likely see if he can't use the Doc's system to line up some work in his spare time. He'll not wait until dark to check on JW and his misses. I'm not about to part with the ice until payment is in hand--and Ma has the ship locked up tight so no one is about to get the ice without permission.

Given the situation, Wyatt might try to track down JW to get some questions answered if he feels he can leave Sam and take Willow and Asher with him. But that depends on whether JW decides to show up before dark.

Either way, he'll likely check on Sam at one point or another.

Posted on 2008-08-29 at 03:14:23.


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