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


You'd think that as an author and an artist I'd enjoy comics more than I do, but then you'd be wrong because I only enjoy comics as much as I do, not more.

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 23:47:56.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Sure!


That's really up to you, but if jt were up to me, I'd say yes. Unless you want the pods to be within the "blind spot" of the long range sensors. If that's the case then short range could get them with more detail. Long range can pick things up, but don't provide as much detail as a
short range scan which is sometimes why it is necessary to bolster their signal with probes.

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 05:47:39.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Ever the calm one.


The Colt smoked in his hand. He hadn't counted on Bridget making like she'd had a spasm--she'd looked plum fit to be tied by his estimation, and that oversight had nearly cost him his life! That wasn't necessarily what pulled the possum's tail as much as he could only imagine what would have happened to his crew had he wound up bein' fit for a pine box. Now that--that set his blood to boiling! Angry as he was at his own foolish pride and what it had nearly cost him, Wyatt's response to JW's question gaze was all but non-existent.

Dropping a hand to Fenris's uninjured shoulder, Wyatt muttered a simple, "Thanks, Wolf. Now hang on fer a bit longer," as he dropped from the damaged mule and strode quickly towards the bank interior.

He hadn't noticed the hurt that had been put on the other two gunmen, but subconciously--the way a person who is right used to combat has a certain sense of awareness about them in the midst of things. What he did know was that he still hadn't seen Sam, and that concerned him.

"Asher," Wyatt said calmly as he thumbed rounds into the Colt's cylinder after flicking the empty shells to the road. "Cover me."

Stepping up to the blasted bank door, Wyatt angled his way in so as to present as little a target as possible to whomever it was still waiting inside. His cool gaze registered the destruction, the positions of the bodies, and Sam.

"Bloody hell, Sam!" It was a statement, a remark with little inflection, though Wyatt's heart was racing at the bloody mess that was his friend. Seeing him like that reminded Sung of that day years back when they'd nearly killed each other. Maybe it was the sight of Dash's bloody visage that brought back those memories, or maybe it was the fact that he appeared to be dying, and when faced with death people tended to recall events. Frankly, Wyatt didn't care.

After casting one more quick look about, Sung took one step back and peered out the door ready to call Asher in to help tote the pilot back home when he saw Willow.

"Willow!" Wyatt waved his left hand in the air to catch her attention; his right still holding the Colt level and ready just in case. "Sam's here, and in need of your tender care. Quick, Woman! He looks like he's about done waitin'."

Wyatt Sung cared a great deal about his crew. Each and every one of them was something special to him, but he couldn't stand around and watch Willow battle Death for Sam's life, and knowing that Fenris was hurt more'n a bit as well didn't sit well with him even a little bit. The instant the man had officially joined the crew he'd become family.

Spotting the town doctor, Wyatt quickly determined that it wouldn't sit well if he directed the doc to one of his men when one of the city locals was in bleeding on the floor. Besides, it was unlucky to be selfish...

"One in there for you too, Doc," Wyatt drawled as he stepped away from the door and caught sight of the man's doctorin' bag.

Wyatt's mind needed something to keep it occupied while Willow saved Sam's life. That's just the way he operated. Glancing about at the crowd he spotted what was left of his hat lying near the mule. Eve had given him that hat...a second or two after spotting it, wyatt had snatched from the ground and was inspecting it as he stepped his way to where the other Ludlow lay dying (OOC: Making the assumption he's still alive.)

"I thought I'd seen you somewhere before," Wyatt crouched next to him, his expression cold as he looked the dying man in the eyes. "You look like your brother--got that same reckless way 'bout you where other's lives are concerned.

"Funny thing, Ludlow. I put your brother down same as we put you down. Guess you two really were somethin' of a pair after all."

Wyatt remained impassive as he made to rise, his eyes locked with the man who'd caused them so much recent grief. Then he paused, "Tell me somethin', Ludlow. Why was you're brother lookin' fer a Sam when I split his brainpan?"

(OOC: Assuming no answer, or that he expires...)

"The least you could do after all this damage is confirm wth me that you ain't got no more brothers..."

Finally rising from his crouch, Wyatt turned an eye towards the bank hoping to see Willow coming out on Sam's arm. When it didn't happen just yet he turned his gaze back to Bridget and JW.

"You OK ma'am?" he intoned in his same deadpan drawl. Receiving his answer, Wyatt raised an eyebrow to JW, while rolling his ruined hat in his hand. "I trust your ship is OK. Ventin' as she was, you had us a might concerned--ain't that right, Asher?"

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 05:27:13.
Edited on 2008-07-03 at 05:38:21 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I believe I answered that.


But, here's to repeat performances.

Yes.

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 04:45:21.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: Rescue?


Stardate: 2374.09.05
The Charon – Bridge – 22:19 hours

“Captain?” Talon began, “you think it could be the Romulans? Maybe they sabotaged the ship?”

Kel’s face remained the tight, furious expression that he’d been wearing since his meeting with Sisko. He’d been running scenarios through his head; scenarios born of vivid imagination, experience, and hatred. He’d already played it out: the Romulans installing the “cloaking device”, securing their escape route through one of the pods, and then incinerating all political relations with the Federation with one click of a button—or one countdown timer. It was inevitable with his history, and no amount of dismissal from Benjamin Sisko could alleviate that particular gut feeling. All the same, he had a responsibility. He had to grudgingly admit the responsibility to his crew to keep an open mind; even if it was nothing more than appearance. As the captain, if he established a preconceived notion in the minds of his subordinates, they would more than likely follow suite. Despite his desire to put all of the blame on the shoulders of those blasted pointed-eared killers, he needed the objectivity of his officers in order to survive.

“There is nothing to indicate that the Romulans had anything to do with…this. Hell, there’s nothing indicating what happened.

“We go in with our eyes wide open, people. We find out where Mac and his crew are, and we bring them home. Make sure that weapons are fully operational, Talon. Mr. Kato, I want our scanners tested in full. Science is going to likely be performing both long range, and short range scans of various types. The Cerberus has vanished from Starfleet sensors…Whatever caused that will be our responsibility to uncover.”

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 12:08 hours


The view screen showed the black, emptiness of space with all too much reflection of Kelsey’s insides. Where is she? he wondered as he peered out into the inky blackness. This region of space seemed particularly empty for the lack of the Cerberus.

“Talk to me, people,” Kelsey intoned in a voice that was nearly a growl. “What are the long range scans telling us? Where’s Mac?”

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 01:54:27.

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: Certainly.


If we're at that point, I can create the characters for anyone.

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 01:22:51.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Thank you.


I'm glad that all of you are enjoying this. We've plenty more where this came from so stay tuned.

OK, the Charon was actually docked to one of the pylons of DS9, so the M.A.C.O.s could have walked on board.

I'm going to post ahead again. I want to keep the pace moving, and continue to provide direction. Just remember folks, in the free form style, the idea is to invoke action from others, put the challenge of storytelling into other player's faces, so expect that.

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 01:17:44.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Uh


I don't.

Posted on 2008-07-03 at 00:50:26.

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


Bravo! I'll have a post up shortly.

Posted on 2008-07-02 at 14:15:29.

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: Unfortunately


I'm at work all day. The character creation will have to take place after hours. You can start though. Just send me some basics on your character like it was a D&D character and I'll flesh it out from there. Then we can work out the kinks.

Posted on 2008-07-01 at 20:45:42.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: That is for you to find out... :)


The Charon is staffed with a skeletal crew. Captain Gavison could never keep it fully staffed with his penchant for running dangerous missions. Don't worry, there's room enough for the remaining crew.

Posted on 2008-07-01 at 05:32:34.

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: No problem...


So...which character sheet should we create first? Hmmm? Please keep in mind that I'll flesh out your histories a bit using my random historical event generator as you aren't always in control of that which effects you in life. This historical event generator isn't always kind either, as Blammm has no doubt figured out by now.

Posted on 2008-07-01 at 05:28:23.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Tee hee hee hee--muahahahahahahahahahaha!


Yes, this is what Eol and I have planned, in part. I wrote it out to that point to make sure that it was unavoidable. I also left it pretty much in the hands of the players to determine who makes it off the ship, and who doesn't. Please consider your posting availability as this is an opportunity for those characters who haven't been posted to in some time to disappear in a glorious fireball in space.

I'd like to remind you that the first cloaking device had already been installed, but seeing how the Romulans were very protective of the devices, it is fully feasible that the second made it aboard an escape pod with them.

The Charon will reach the pods location within fourteen hours, so feel free to post. There's also two days between the launch and my post, so if you want to post for those days, feel free.

This is where the fun really truly begins folks! I trust it gives everyone more than enough to do. ::evil grin::

Posted on 2008-07-01 at 05:22:38.
Edited on 2008-07-01 at 05:26:10 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: The Charon in Action!


Stardate: 2374.09.05
DS9 – Command Center, Briefing Room – 22:17 hours


Kel entered at Sisko’s behest with little expression on his face. It wasn’t that he disliked Sisko—the two got along well enough despite Kelesey’s disbelief in the man’s “visions.” It was that until a few days ago, he’d been able to disbelieve Sisko was The Prophet that the Bajoran people loved to hate, or hated to love. After his encounter with that mysterious messenger, he wasn’t so sure that he could so easily dismiss Benjamin Sisko’s experiences, and that bothered him. Kelsey Gavison was, after all, a man seeped in reality, and the world of mysticism was not something he was comfortable with.

“Ah, Kelsey,” Sisko looked up from his desk and motioned at the chair opposite him, a soft smile on his face.

“What’s this about, Ben?” Kel sat as instructed, crossing his right leg over his left and eyeing The Prophet with a questioning gaze.

“I apologize for the lateness of the hour, Kel, but there’s something you should read.” Leaning forward, Sisko offered his counterpart a PADD. Once Kelsey had taken it, the captain of DS9 leaned back in his chair, a grim expression on his face.

“They lost contact with it about seven hours ago,” Sisko stated as Kelsey looked up from the report.

“What do you mean, ‘lost contact?’ exactly?”

“The tracking source of the Cerberus went dead at 15:17 today, Kel. So far, they’ve not received any distress signals, no communication attempts have been successful—it is like the Cerberus just disappeared.”

“The Romulans—“

“There’s nothing to indicate that they had anything to do with this. We’ve no intelligence indicating a Romulan presence within that quadrant, and it is unlikely that the Romulan contingent would have committed suicide to complete a mission. Kelsey, we don’t know what happened, but you’re to find out.”

“The Charon isn’t fully operational. Surely there’s a ship closer to their last known position that could get their faster,” Kelsey tossed the PADD back on the desk where it landed with a very audible clatter.

“If there were, we’d have sent it.” Sisko sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “The Charon is the only ship available for maneuvers. You can reach their last known position in a little under a day at warp six.

“Kelsey, we can only assume that something went wrong. We’re hoping that it was a minor malfunction what with it being a new ship, but we can’t be certain. If Captain MacTavish and his crew are still alive out there, you’re their hope of being brought back in.”

“They’re alive,” Kelsey stood up and tugged at the dress shirt of his uniform to straighten out wrinkles. “Jack MacTavish is too damn stubborn to die just yet.”

“From everything I’ve read on him, I’d have to believe you.” Ben also stood. “I’ve already had the coordinates transferred to your flight control. Bring them home, Captain.”

Kelsey saluted the senior officer and promptly strode from the room, his mind racing. MacTavish was an excellent engineer, and he’d demand excellence from his engineering crew. In Kel’s mind, there was no way that the Cerberus was experiencing a minor communications malfunction. Something was definitely wrong, and the possibilities were endless; though Gavison didn’t restrain his imagination as he strode through the promenade and eventually onto the Charon.

“This is Captain Gavison.” The ship’s overhead barked his words to the whole of his crew. He’d been demanding they sleep aboard ship for the past two days in the hopes that they’d finalize the repairs to the Charon quicker as time had been running out. All personnel should be accounted for. “Report to your stations. We are leaving berth. I repeat: report to your stations immediately. The Charon will be under way in less than fifteen minutes, or I’ll skin the man holding me up.”

Dropping into his chair, Kel began to address what systems he could from his command console, all the while, his visage darkening as “what if’s” kept running through his brain. When the deck was full, he barked his orders to disengage from the pylon, only addressing the tired staff once they were a safe distance from the station.

“Our sister ship in this mission has gone missing, and we’re going to find her,” he began over the intraship communications. “As of 15:17 hours this afternoon, the Cerberus was reported missing. There has been no communication from her, or any of her crew, since. This ship is now in yellow alert and will remain so until further notice.”

Ending his broadcast, Kel looked over his senior staff. “I don’t know what awaits us when we get there, so be on your game.

“Warp six, Lt. Mas’Riat.”

Posted on 2008-07-01 at 05:04:19.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: Not a dream, though it is a nightmare.


Stardate: 2374.09.03
Cerberus – Bridge – 0601 hours

/--\ We’re disconnecting the umbilical, Captain. /--\

Station control informed MacTavish in a matter-of-fact tone that bellied the excitement, and trepidation, that the crew felt. Those on the bridge glanced about at each other before quickly returning to the matter at hand. Lt. Jon Patrick Hash was, perhaps, the least excited of them all. He felt the release of the umbilical through the deck floor in a detached sort of way, standing as he was behind the captain’s chair. It was customary for all of the senior officers to be on the bridge when the ship was launched. That was the only reason he was there. He wasn’t like other Star Fleet officers who looked forward to the launch of a new vessel, celebrating it with joy. He knew, perhaps better than anyone else on board he’d met thus far, that they were apt to encounter pain, suffering, and death in their journey. This knowledge put a damper on the Cerberus’ maiden voyage as far as he was concerned.

“Conf’rm detachmen’, Lieutenan’ P’Tammah,” Mac ordered in a steady voice from his seat behind ops control.

“The umbilical has been detached, Captain,” Vaela P’Tammah stated after pressing a couple of buttons on the flight control console.

“Stations conf’rm green status,” Captain MacTavish continued.

“Tac confirmed,” Rrowl growled from his post.

“Ops confirmed,” replied Lt. Amy Dixon.

“Engineering confirmed,” Chief Cameron added.

“Then, by all tha’s ‘oly, take us ou’, Mistair P’Tammah.”

“Aye, Sir.”

/--\ “Good luck, Captain.” /--\

The ship systems didn’t allow for the crew to actually feel the motion begin, but Hash was veteran enough to claim that he could as the screen showed the gripping, skeletal hands of encompassing the Cerberus pass by, and out of view. Jon remained still with a bored expression on his face as space was revealed in its vastness before them.

“We’ve cleared the pylons, Captain,” Vaela stated as she continued to enter data into her console.

“Entair course, an’ engage, Ensign. Warp four,” Mac leaned forward slightly.

“Aye, Sir.”

Within seconds the ship leapt forward, the screen showing the stars about it lurching—the only indication that they were in motion—and then, the stars slipped into a plethora of white streams as the ship entered warp.

“We done here, Captain?” Hash threw protocol to the wind. “I’ve got a butt-load of work to do thanks to the incompetence of the engineering staff. Some fool decided to turn off an anti-grav dolly before removing his leg from the vicinity—idiot.”

The captain’s response was the signal for the ceremony of it all to end. The senior staff were free to return to their duties, or remain on the bridge as they saw fit. For his part, Jon Hash was done. He hadn’t been lying about the accident, and as usual, he didn’t trust his medical staff even with a simple bone structure reconstruction. As soon as he’d received the captain’s permission, he was heading for the turbolift.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
Cerberus – Engineering – 1130 hours

Stan had really fallen into the routine. He’d managed to stay out of Chief Cameron’s way, partly due to his own ingenuity and partly due to the fact that his lack of hygiene made it so that he was generally scheduled when Cameron wasn’t in engineering, or in areas where he wouldn’t bother people. The freedom this allowed was vastly preferred, even needed, in order for the creature to carry out his mission. In fact, since launching, Stan had developed a plan. The freedom that he’d enjoyed had finally allowed him to procure the knowledge he needed to succeed. He was quite pleased with his plan, but professional enough to manage to obscure his pleasure from those he was forced to deal with.

He’d had to wait for the right moment to act. For two days he’d waited, watching, carrying the tool of his success on his person—another ingenious idea he’d had that had taken very little by way of programming to work out. In Stan’s opinion the Federation was too easy a target in their simplicity. He’d often wondered how the Dominion hadn’t already crushed them, but again, his professionalism held him to his directive despite his misgivings.

Stan stood at the console in Engineering with his back to the reactor, going through the motions of a level one diagnostics. Today was the day. It was perfect. They were far enough from the space station that it would be impractical for a quick rescue, and Stan had already sabotaged the distress signal so that it wouldn’t activate once pressed. He’d also deactivated the warp core ejector. He was absolutely confident that he would succeed, and this wasn’t his first Federation ship either, so he’d already proven his method effective.

Working through the diagnostic, Stan Stowbreiski—or rather, the shapeshifter posing as him—shut down the console, turned and began to pass the warp containment cell. When near the view portal, he “accidentally” dropped his PADD; reaching out with his left hand, he placed it on the control console’s rim while he bent and retrieved it. He felt a slight tingling from his hand as the destructive nanites he’d brought on board swarmed from within him in mass invisible to the naked eye. Rising up, Stan gave the PADD a pat with his other hand and raised his eyebrows at the crewman who’d witnessed the whole affair in an apologetic gesture.

“Jellyfingers,” he said, unwittingly using the wrong slang, but getting it close enough that the man shook his head in disgust and returned to his duties. Stan smiled and breezed past, making his way out of engineering and into the hall.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
Cerberus – Bridge – 1515 hours

“Captain?” Ensign Montague frowned at the red light that had just appeared on his monitoring console. Standing at the engineering station on the bridge, the ensign was filling in for Chief Cameron while the man took a brief regulated break. Montague’s heart had stopped beating in his chest when the light had appeared, and for a brief moment he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Calling to the captain had been reflexive, but realization of what was happening spurred him on, overriding the captain in his urgency. “Captain! The warp core is going critical at an intense rate!”

“Wha’!?” Mac spun about in his seat. “’Ow long do we ‘ave, lad?”

“Minutes, if that, Sir.”

“’Ow the bloody ‘ell—Engineerin’!” MacTavish barked. “Report!”

/--\ “Sir, the warp core is going all sorts of haywire--/--\

“I bloody know tha’! Can ya shut ‘er down?”

“We’re tryin—“ The sound of an explosion echoed through the speakers.

“Lad? Lad!” MacTavish was out of his seat in a motion sparked by concern.

“Sir, we’ve a breach in the reaction chamber.” Ensign Montague turned a panicked gaze to his captain.

“Engineerin’, d’ ya read?” Jack waved the man down as he looked to the ceiling for an answer.

/--\“Cap…warp core…ejection failed…breach killed…”/--\

“Sickbay!” Jack barked, switching his link through the neural-processor. “Git a medical team t’ engineerin’ on the double!

“Red alairt,” MacTavish finished sharply.

“Sir! Warp core containment failure in one minute!” Montague’s wavering voice broke through the sudden flashing red lights and low pitched siren.

“Can ya ejec’ the damn thing from yer station, Lad?”

“I’ll try, Sir, but I do—“

The turbo lift doors opened admitting Chief Cameron and Rrowl.

“Negative, Sir!” Montague yelled. “The ejection sequence isn’t responding.”

Chief Cameron darted across to the console and began to work at the station while Ensign Montague looked worriedly over his shoulder. Perhaps he’d missed something, perhaps he’d forgotten the proper command codes for such a drastic measure. The young man continued to watch his superior’s fingers fly across the console with an agility and deft confidence that he could only wish he possessed. Only when Cameron’s efforts returned the same results as his own was he convinced that he didn’t do anything wrong.

Jack glanced about at his command, for a moment caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation. They were two days from their launch point in a brand new ship that was now going critical. Two days!

“This is yer cap’ain speakin’,” MacTavish said with a touch of grimness to his tone as he activated the ship-wide relay. “This is no’ a drill. Abandon ship wit’ pos’ haste. I repea’ this is no’ a drill.”

The computer’s voice took over from there, repeating the phrase, “Abandon ship. All personnel are to report to the ejection pods on their deck. Abandon ship.’

On the bridge, MacTavish ushered all of the officers towards their respective escape routes. He knew they had mere seconds before the warp core exploded taking them all with it, so he rushed them as fast as he could. With him went Ensign Tal Montague, Chief Duncan Cameron, Ensign Sojourn Marie Lyvette (currently on bridge duty), Rrowl, and Lt. Amy Dixon. Within seconds they were filing into one of the escape pods designated for senior staff, securing the door behind them, and strapping in. The force of their release from the Cerberus into space wasn’t dampened as their launch had been two fateful days prior, and each and every one of them felt the g-forces pulling at them as they were shot into space with enough power to take them far from the pending explosion. They could see the Cerberus spitting similar pods into space as they drew further, and further away from it, and then, white light broke free of the hull where engineering was located.

“There were too few pods!” Dixon whispered in horror as the ship continued to be devoured by the ravenous destruction. Her eyes were welling up with tears. It was as though she could feel the deaths of all those who’d failed to reach their pods in time in one sweeping emotion. “Not everyone made it.”

She hadn’t known them for long, but the crew had been one she’d already determined was her family. There was no other way around it when one went on a long, dangerous journey. Those who went with you were drawn together by that singular bond of mortality. Looking about at the faces with her, she wondered about the condition of those they’d left behind even though some she’d only briefly met. What of Sitok, P’Tammah, Tyrone Carter, Larya Korae, Chief Valberg, the Romulans, and yes, even Lt. Hash? What of the hundreds of other crewmen and women she’d been determined to get to know—the names she had gone over again and again in her duties? So many…and so few escape pods…

/--\Chirp/--\

Spinning about in her seat as best she could with the restraints across her chest, Amy raised her eyebrows and wiped away the tears that were streaming down her face as Captain MacTavish looked over the Flight Control console.

“We’re bein’ ‘ailed,” he muttered in a ghostly voice as he pressed the button to respond. “This'd be MacTavish.”

“Well, ain’t that fortune smiling on our little party,” Jon Hash’s voice returned. “Lt. Hash, Captain. I’ve got a few of my medical staff with me, and a couple of other crewmen. The pod is full, but I am showing only a few others within the vicinity.”

The reports continued to come in after Lt. Hash’s, but it was as Dixon feared. Too few had escaped the destruction of the Cerberus; so many had died. The last of these reports to come in was from a Brianna MacQueen of the M.A.C.O.s. With her were a few of her marines and an engineer named Stan David Stowbreiski.

Posted on 2008-07-01 at 04:39:43.

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: hmmm


Send me a PM with another email address to send them to please.

How're everyone else's characters coming along?

Posted on 2008-06-30 at 21:20:26.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: All set.


I've communicated with Eol and will move things forward either tonight, or tommorrow night depending on when I finish this illustration piece I'm working on.

Posted on 2008-06-30 at 21:17:39.

Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Screams and Giggles...


The frantic calls coming across the radio caused Monty to drop his head and close his eyes tight. He hated not being there, not leading his rangers, and most certainly not knowing what was going on amidst all of the chaos. It wrenched every bone in his body as each metallic sounding shot echoed through the mic.

“Lt. Kernan, this is Cpl. Johannsen. Lee is down and Pearson and myself are injured but functioning, Kane was uninjured, and dealing with the Monster which is dying or dead.”

“Lt, Sgt Kane, we’re in the Observatory I have one down, unconscious dying and two wounded. Am moving to hallway to take up defensive position”

"Copy that," Kernan responded, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. "Corporal Johannsen spoke of a monster--another yeti?"

(OOC: assuming something along the lines of, "...uh, no...")

Monty looked up and met Blake's gaze, his own expression one of determination. "What's Hatherford and Hart's condition?"

(OOC: again, assuming that he receives some sort of description of what they found.)

"Kane," Monty's frown deepened. "Get those wounded back here, pronto. We'll meet you along the way to provide some extra help." Switching from the radio, Kernan shook his head slightly at Blake. "I'm not leaving you alone here, Charlie. We're going to have to put the objective on hold for the time being. Grab your kit; we're going to reunite."

He didn't need to state the obvious: they had two rangers missing, two G.I.s missing, and three wounded, one could possibly be critical. The odds weren't looking good, and their rescue mission just turned into a survival mission. As far as Lt. Kernan was concerned at this point, their objective had changed. They wouldn't leave anyone behind if he could avoid it. Rangers never left a man in the field...alive, or dead.

Slinging his kit once more, Kernan moved to the door, readied his weapon, and waited for Blake to take up position as well. Once they were ready he lead the way into the hall, weapon ready on burst. He was full intent on making sure that his Rangers would have their support in little to no time.

Posted on 2008-06-30 at 05:08:28.
Edited on 2008-06-30 at 13:50:11 by t_catt11

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: Historical events have been e-mailed.


Blammm, I've e-mailed you those events. They should be in your RDInn e-mail box.

Posted on 2008-06-30 at 04:39:40.

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


If Char doesn't shoot him out of the sky first!

Posted on 2008-06-30 at 01:25:14.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Change of plans.


OK, I got to thinking about what I was posting and determined that part of you were in a stagnant position that didn't really call for additional posts right now. So, I posted for the group that was on the move. This doesn't mean that those of you who aren't included in the post can't provide me with actions taken to get your characters on the move.

Posted on 2008-06-29 at 06:05:05.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: In the Mountains


Dover Street – Rancho Coronado – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 4:30pm

The decision had been made. Firewind had to admit, he wasn’t a fan of it. The Combat Zone? Seriously? The medtech knew the stories about the place—every major city had one, but Night City’s was second only to Chicago’s, and Chicago’s was very nearly considered one of the most deadly places on earth. Hell! Keahi had heard tell that the Combat Zone was akin to the SouthAm death fields, only urban, not jungle.

For the past twenty-four hours, or so, he’d been nervous, scared, and nearly killed in a number of different ways. He’d somehow managed to avoid it, and keep the majority of those with him from buying the farm as well, yet here it was: Croaker was going to undo all of that with one trip to the Combat Zone in search of a recreational vehicle that only rich beavers could afford.

The islander was about to comment on the inane decision when Bull’s Eye smacked Croaker in the chest with the back of his gloved hand. The bus had been on the move for all of two minutes from the time it had stopped; still heading south.

“You must’ve done something right in another life,” Bull’s Eye growled as he pointed surreptitiously out the rain-streaked window at the fenced in community they were passing.

“There’s a stop three minutes from here,” Peacekeeper added, having spotted that which the other nomad was pointing out: a twenty-one foot RV visible just over the ten-foot stone wall.

Twenty minutes later, and Keahi found himself standing near MDK at the back of the RV keeping watch while Bull’s Eye and Lightning broke into the vehicle. Peacekeeper and Croaker stood watch at opposite corners of the block a few houses down. It took a few more minutes for Lightning to work his magic and, again a few more seconds for the nomad to hotwire the thing. Firewind had been concerned that some housewife would come storming out of the house at the sound of the engine, but it hadn’t happened. They’d picked up the rest of their party and managed to avoid any security on their way out of the community. All the same, Keahi couldn’t help but constantly return to the curtained windows and peer out at the rear view expecting to see the flashing lights and sirens associated with their crime.

“You have it now, Croaker,” Bull’s Eye said dryly as he shifted lanes, moving the massive vehicle from the far right lane they’d entered the freeway on to the lane next over. “The big, white boat is momentarily ours. So we goin’ to the mountains then?”

“That was the plan,” Peacekeeper snapped.

Bull’s Eye proceeded to mumble something under his breath in response.

(OOC: there could obviously be whatever kind of conversation here that you folks deem necessary. Due to the previous intent, I’m assuming that you’re still planning on making it to the mountains with enough time to give MDK his opportunity for some recon.)

The NorCal mountains were just being touched by dusk when the RV started to work its way up the road. The vehicle wasn’t the top of the line RV, but it wasn’t the lowest either. It looked as though they’d heisted the vehicle from someone who’d wanted to make an impression. It did have a navigation system that helped them find the right way, a small kitchenette, a table, a queen bed, and a very small television. It didn’t have a great suspension, and bounced rather energetically every chance it had. Despite this, it housed all of them rather well, and just as the grays of dusk were truly settling in, Bull’s Eye pulled off to the side of the road and put the vehicle into park.

“We’re about ten miles out, if this fancy nav system is right.” The nomad had turned around in the captain’s chair and was peering back at the group on a whole. Croaker had been sitting in the passenger seat, Peacekeeper right behind him in the bench seat behind the table where Lightning was messing with the television he’d dismantled on the ride. Bull’s Eye was looking at MDK now, as most of the eyes in the RV had focused.

“I know the plan was that you go it alone,” Peacekeeper intoned dryly. “But I feel that you might need someone to watch your back, so I’m going with you.”

She didn’t look at Croaker, but kept her gaze leveled on the battlemask, intent on not allowing her man to argue the point—not allowing anyone to argue the point. She’d tracked many a query, and had learned certain skills that would come in handy in just such a situation. It wasn’t prudent in her mind to allow MDK to go off into the evergreen and scrub oak forest alone. She didn’t trust him, true, but when all of their lives depended on the results it was better to follow that old Chess adage of never leaving a piece without cover. Standing up, she retrieved her bag and unzipped it, beginning the work of making sure all of the gear she wanted to take along was on her person, as the bag would remain.

“There will likely be infrared,” Peacekeeper continued in an effort to keep Croaker silent. “We won’t be able to do much about that, but I went after a defecting computer scientist for a corporation a few years back and learned a thing or two about bots and remotes, so at least we have some knowledge in that area should we encounter it.

“Way I see it, we’ve got the majority of the night for recon maneuvers and getting back here. Once we’ve scoped things out we can determine the best course to proceed. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Peacekeeper paused in her gearing up to turn and raise a manicured eyebrow at MDK before continuing with her efforts.

Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 6:30pm

Posted on 2008-06-29 at 06:02:01.

Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: LOL


Look what I've gotten myself into... OK. A few hundred years of random life events coming up.

Posted on 2008-06-29 at 04:08:33.

Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I'll tell you what...


I can completely understand being swamped. I spent the last week and a half feeling it myself. I'll talk with Eol and see if there isn't something I can do to move us onward while he pulls things together.

Posted on 2008-06-29 at 04:02:53.

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


I figured that two armed men following someone holding a hostage out of the building was an indication of hostility. All the same, let's hope that the dice love me as much as you!

Posted on 2008-06-25 at 03:11:29.

 


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