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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: To forstall any further questions on the matter.
Merry Deth is the one on the couch furthest to the north. DigitalScribe is seeing the room beyond through the open door to the office area.
Yes, my descriptions got a bit turned around in the previous posts of the Suite's layout. I apologize for this. I didn't have a map for the post creations so I was running off of memory, and there was a great deal of time passing between posts... I'm old, forgive my bad memory. My bad... I don't think it should effect anything though.
There is no elevator to the Suite.
Posted on 2007-05-08 at 04:36:36.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: The Suite
Posted on 2007-05-08 at 04:32:51.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Update
Ok, we're still in combat rounds. This means we're doing everything in 3-second blocks of time. For the sake of those tracking the time table we're in the third round of combat.
Guardian, you've fired four rounds from the Armalite.
Firewind, quite the struggle, but you're now down one dose of Sedative, and you've earned 1 IP in Jiujutsu.
Spiff, you've sustained a light wound to the right leg. It hurts like hell, but you're able to function. It is a flesh wound right now, but those bleed bad, so you'd be good to get some medical attention soon. You've also earned 1 IP in handgun and fired 7 rounds from you Mark II.
Peacekeeper, you've sustained a light wound to the left leg. Just like Spiff, it hurts pretty bad and is bleeding profusely, but you're still ambulatory. You earned 1 IP in handgun and have fired five rounds.
In the street, Preacher is halfway across the distance from the tree to the Hole. Bullseye and the van haven't appeared yet. Preacher earned 1 IP in Awareness/Notice for his awesome work on determining if there were any dangers in their approach.
You are definitely not out of hot water yet, but there was a lull in the firefight so I am letting you guys post change of plans, responses to the action, thoughts, etc. You've got about thirty seconds (ten combat rounds) before you'll see more gangers inside. That's about the time that Bullseye will pull up in front of the Hole. He'll keep the engine running and watch for anyone making a break for it. Good luck Choombas.
Posted on 2007-05-05 at 19:50:47.
Edited on 2007-05-05 at 19:51:44 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Bullets, Blood, and Death
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
He was poised on the edge anyway. When that gunfire erupted the response was quick; the hand thrust into his jacket pocket producing the phone; the thumb hitting the preprogrammed speed-dial he’d set up shortly after Bullseye had sauntered into the bar.
“Bullseye, we need you at the front of the Hole fast! Cover the main door, we are going in!”
Bullseye had been sitting quietly in the driver’s seat of the van, his booted feet up on the dash, gazing groggily out the window at the driving rain. He’d been contemplating the turn of events this night, the reunion with his clansman, the twists where that forceful doll Peacekeeper came into the picture. Things weren’t the same as they were the last time Bullseye had seen Croaker. Of course, then they’d been family, but still not much more than acquaintances. Bullseye had driven the big rigs, the mega trucks containing the scop dispensers, and Croaker had a junior seat on the council of elders, was a warrior among the family, and had a voice. Now, fate had pushed the two men together. The last two free members of the tribe. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that when his sounded it took him by surprise.
“Damn!” Bullseye fumbled with the small device as he ripped it from his pocket, his boots sounding off of the steel floor of the van as he righted himself. The words sounding in his ears were quick, blunt, like a pusher’s bullet through the skull. “Damn!” he said again as the sound of disconnect clicked in his ear. Croaker hadn’t even given him time to find out what was going on. He was going in blind.
Sparking the ignition, Bullseye floored the accelerator and jogged onto the street. The bump nearly sent him onto one butt cheek, but he quickly righted himself. He was used to this. These were his kinds of vehicles. Some people preferred those small urban crawlers: sedans, sports cars, but not Bullseye. He was a freighter and he was used to the long pull on the oversized wheel to make that turn. The feeling of power revving underneath him as the engine was strained to meet the need. The headlights of oncoming cars glaring off the water-streaked windscreen, the wipers struggling to push the waterfall aside, his adrenaline pulsing.
Back on the street, Croaker quickly turned and gave further instructions as he dropped his borrowed cell back into his pocket. “Ok, Preacher, cover Coyote and I as we cross the street and hit the rear door, then we’ll cover you. We need to get inside the Hole and get to the others.”
Preacher wasn’t keen on the idea of running the few hundred yards to the Hole while a firefight ensued, but he had signed on and he gave a brief nod while Coyote said, “Time to spread some lead.”
“And we went to war against Bera king of Sodom, Birsha king of Gomorrah, Shinab king of Admah, Shemeber king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela (that is, Zoar),” Preacher muttered under his breath as the two men rushed into the street, weapons held high. “Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
Rolling his shoulders, Preacher brought his submachine gun to hand. Readying the weapon with a quick jerk, he climbed up over the cement and into the soft earth of the planter box. Dropping his shoulder to the tree truck, the man in black raised the H&K MPK2020 to his shoulder and used his thumb to switch to a three round burst. Squinting into the rain he scanned the rooftop through the leaves that threatened to obstruct his view as the wind blew them about in a wild dance. The guard that Coyote had eluded to was no where to be seen. Dropping to his knee, Preacher panned over to the opposite corner. The guard was strangely absent there as well.
Splashing through the water Croaker scanned the rooftop as well, his newly acquired H&K MPK-11 with its attached M-205 grenade launcher held at ready. He was full on expecting to be waltzing through a rain of hot lead by now, but in scrutinizing the area where Coyote had said the guard had perched, Croaker saw nothing by rain.
The MiniUzi was his weapon of choice for the mad rush assault. Coyote ran after the crazy nomad and prayed he’d live through whatever happened next. He too noticed that the rooftop was bare, but he also noticed the flurry of shadows on the other side of the golden-lit windows. Something was definitely going down inside… but hadn’t the gunfire he heard been loud enough to be outside? He seriously doubted he’d have heard the gunfire all that clearly had it originated from inside.
Overhead more shots were fired confirming that the gun fight was taking place outside, but almost immediately afterward, the men on the street heard the muffled sounds of gunfire coming from inside.
Hitting the southern wall of the Hole, Croaker put his back to the wall and scanned overhead as well as either side. He saw no one. Coyote followed suite, ending up on the west side of Croaker, putting the east corner to the nomad’s left shoulder.
With the two in position, Preacher took off from his perch at a sprint.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Spiff was no slouch when it came to handling his Mark II. He was a man of the Street and had learned long ago that trouble came at you quick. When face-to-face with powerdealers and brokers on a daily basis, one had to be prepared for anything. That’s why he’d outfitted himself with speedholsters. That’s why when the lead started flying, he was only a mere second behind the others in response time. That’s why he was able to pup his Mark II from the holster on his waist, underneath his coat, and bring it to bear on Dawn faster than she was able to rip her weapons free from her waistline. That’s why he felt confident bringing the weapon to bear on her forehead. That’s why the bullet that tore free of the barrel put a fine hole in her forehead two inches above the left eye socket, the air behind her head suddenly adrift with small particles of blood and brain matter.
Dawn’s eyes widened at the same time as her mouth opened in a silent scream, her arms swept outwards as though trying to keep her balanced. Then, she fell like a tree freshly lumbered, straight back to hit the polished floor with a sickening thud.
“I’ve got Tiny and Slim,” Peacekeeper said calmly as she spun sharply on her heel and quickly glided over to the wall by the hall they’d surely be coming down any second. She braced herself there, using the wall for partial cover.
Merry Deth must have had enough. Firewind was rolling to put more weight on her, trying to secure her left arm when he felt her arm come up over the top of his shoulder and grip his jacket. It was impressive the way she used his own weight against him as she rolled her hips and pulled. He shifted, forced off of her lap and onto his right knee, his balance precariously compromised. His plan for a clean, easy administration of the drug was quickly coming apart and he was forced to discard any thought of wrapping her up in a hold. This little princess had been through some martial arts courses at daddy’s expense. Keahi was sure of it. There was nothing left for it. The medtech knew instinctively that she’d probably beat the living hell out of him if he gave her the chance. The fear that had been in her eyes was gone now, replaced by a fierce determination.
Firewind slammed his right hand down towards her bared neck with the intention of putting that airhypo to her flesh no matter what. Only problem was, his forearm was caught up on hers as she deftly blocked his attempt, pushing his arm into the couch. He was close enough to smell the mint of her gum on her breath. Had this been a lover he could have kissed her, but instead he saw a small trickle of blood forming up in her left nostril.
Spiff glanced briefly at Peacekeeper as she bolted to cover the impending assault on their position—that’s exactly what he was going to suggest! Hopping over the inert form of Dawn, he nearly slid in the blood pooling under her head as he hit the other side of the doorframe and gave that deadly woman opposite him a nod as if to say, “I’ve got your back.” As if she needed it…
“Hurry up Firewind!” Peacekeeper called back. “They’re here.” The bounty hunter’s weapon popped off another shot. That was one thing she could rely on. These weren’t trained soldiers. They were street punks pretending at organized crime and they proved their ineptitude when the two, huge guards came rushing around the corner of the hall with military-spec hardware in hand. Her first shot ripped through the skull of the biggest—the one with the Mohawk from before. He continued his momentum forward, but in the form of a thrown sack of potatoes, his body sliding up against the wall to lie still. Her second shot went for one of the twins, another head shot, and he went down just as quickly.
Gritting his teeth against Peacekeepers order, Firewind desperately tried to get past Merry Deth’s defenses, trying to pump her full of the drug only to find that she’d knocked his hand aside once more.
Spiff expertly took aim with his Mark II and lined up with the bobbing head of the second big man. His first shot was just as clean, striking the skull where he heard the responding “ting-thunk” of his round penetrating the metal of an armored headplate. The man’s head jerked back and he stumbled, falling and sliding on the slick floor. The fixer’s second shot was nearly too high, but still managed to catch the man in the top portion of his forehead as he fell. The third time Spiff squeezed the trigger he’d already compensated and his round found the eye socket.
There was one more rushing them: the other twin, and he was yelling in rage as he fired his weapon, full auto towards the room. Can’t account much for brains when dealing with boosters, as demonstrated by full auto in an enclosed space. Both Spiff and Peacekeeper tried rolling out of the way, hoping the walls would be enough to protect them from the onslaught and that they’d move quick enough. They weren’t. They’d been finishing up their shots and the bodies of the dead had been falling when the man had opened fire. As they were twisting to get out of the way the drywall popped around them and Spiff felt the impact of bullets against his duster. Then very real pain burst up his right leg and his leg was kicked out from underneath him causing him to slide a little down the wall.
Still standing he glanced over at Peacekeeper. Her face was white, but she returned his questioning gaze with a determined nod.
Hearing the hell erupting behind him, Keahi tried desperately to force the drug on the little woman, but she redirected his arm again. At least he had her on the defensive.
Peacekeeper spun back into the doorway and popped off another couple of shots just as Spiff followed suite. The fixer watched as the big man’s head cocked back with the impact, but to his horror, the ganger continued forward, yelling his rage, his blonde hair soaked through with his own blood. Spiff wasn’t going to take any more chances with this monster. He lined up and fired off three more rounds straight for the man’s head. All three struck true and this time, the man stumbled to the floor and slid up to their feet.
“You hurt?” Peacekeeper growled as she popped her clip and checked her load.
Spiff knew he was, but he hadn’t assessed the wound yet. “Nothin’ major,” he managed though the pain in his leg was intense.
That’s when Firewind growled like a feral animal and pushed with all of his might past Merry Deth’s defenses, finding purchase on her neck. He depressed the button and grinned as her eyes widened. He knew she was feeling the effects of the drug coursing into her system.
“You bastard,” her warm breath tickled his lips. He felt her go limp in his arms and knew that the sedative had taken hold.
“She’s down!” he called back over his shoulder.
From the hall, Spiff and Peacekeeper could hear the faint calls of the other gangers as they approached. They were once again forced into a situation where they had mere seconds to make some pretty heavy decisions.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
Following the media’s lead, Frank made his way to the little bit of cover they had. Shoulder-to-shoulder with his employer, the bodyguard asked, “You broke?”
“Nope,” DigitalScribe drew in a deep breath. “Just embarrassed.”
From below them, the sounds of gunfire could be heard. “It’s definitely hit the fan,” the media said just as Guardian spotted the approaching sentry. He wasn’t taking any chances, and just as smooth as before, he raised his weapon to bear and pulled the trigger twice. The man disappeared into the black shadows, and Guardian was confident he’d killed him.
“See the other one?” Guardian whispered, craning his neck to peer past Frankie’s arms where the media held his weapon up close to his chest. There was a pause and then DigitalScribe said, “Yup.”
The camera turned just as Frankie did, catching the media popping off his shots. He hadn’t been as confident as his bodyguard in his ability to hit such a small target as the head; hoping to hit anything, he’d gone for main mass. The man fell backward, his arms flailing about as he vanished from view.
“Holy… I hit him,” Frankie breathed in awe at his own luck and then quickly turned back to peer at the bodyguard. “I frackin’ hit him!”
The minor victory was short-lived as the media realized the grave situation they were in. He had some decisions to make, and he needed to make them quickly. There was roof access to the interior, but that would likely lead right into the thick of it, and while Frankie wasn’t adverse to being in the thick of it for the story, if he had a choice to film it from a safer position, he was for the alternative. That left only the fire escape.
“Let’s see what we see through the windows, big guy,” The media was up and moving before Frank could protest.
Dropping to the fire escape as quietly as he could, Frankie made his way to the stairs and, weapon in hand, camera following his gaze, moved to the top story where he could get a good look in through the window. There, he saw a scene of death and carnage. He recognized Firewind; after all, he’d turned the man on to the job. There was Peacekeeper too, but he wasn’t sure who the last standing man was.
“This is where it is happening, Guardian,” Frankie said in a hushed tone as his camera zoomed in on Peacekeeper’s face, then panned over to the man he didn’t know, and back to Firewind, who was extracting himself from the arms of a woman DigitalScribe couldn’t see very well due to the couch. He also recorded the grotesquely draped form of the ganger, and the other woman who’s upper body jutted out from behind another couch just enough for him to see. Through the door he saw the bloodbath on the other side as well. All of it caught on digital recording. He was confident in their position due to the light inside the room reflecting off the windows. No one inside would be able to tell there was anyone crouching outside, and in the darkness outside, he seriously doubted that they’d be able to make him out all that well anyway.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am
Posted on 2007-05-05 at 19:38:37.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Breakfast and a movie!?
“Well, now, Captain San,” Willow interjected demurely, as she sauntered up with the Kid and Kora in tow, “you didn’t start discussing business without me, now, did you?” Wyatt caught her look and gave a slight shake of his head before she extending her hand and turned the full power of her smile onto the two miners. No business had been conducted. Wyatt had actually been politely warning their hosts not to try to pull one over on him… again.
“I’m Willow Takahara, gentlemen. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”
Willow had her usual effect on menfolk, as Jim stopped what her was saying and stared at her in a rapturous awe. Sam finally cleared his throat and whacked him on the shoulder, ‘Jim? You’ll letting the space-bugs in.” he said pointing at his mouth.
Dash chuckled at Jim and Sam’s reaction to Willow.
“Huh? Oh!” Jim shook his head and laughed again, “I’m a sorry ma’am, but it has been a long while since me and Sam seen a woman,let alone two and a right purdy ones at that. Welcome to our home.” He extended his hand to shake Willows and caught Wyatt looking at him for an answer. ’Un- ice? Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. My train plum left the station without my luggage. No sir, noting unexpected in the load, and you can come out and watch us load every box if you’d likes. If Bailey or I want you to smuggle for us, we’ll tell you and sweeten the deal.”
“Howzat, Cap,” Dash grinned, “not only is these fellas hardworkin’ prospector-types but they’s not to dull onna business end o’ things neither.
Speakin’ o’ sweetnin’ the deal, Jim-bo,” Dash continued, rubbing his stomach, “Hows’bout that grub? I got a powerful rumblin’ stirred up in my gullet an’, if that other boat’s grease monkey’s even half as good as our Mei mei here,” inclining his head in Kora’s direction, “ I don’ reckon they’ll be long fer showin’ up… Ma always said; better ta tussle on a full belly.
Oh hey! Wil don’ eat meat nor eggs,” the pilot’s smiled broadened as he came to that realization, “Ya don’ mind if me an’ the Kid eats yer share, do ya, Doc?”
Wyatt didn’t necessarily share his friend’s enthusiasm at the moment. The presence of the Celestia hovering on the edge of their current reality seemed to sour whatever appetite he had. He waited until the prospectors had made their way into the kitchen for preparation, and/or, were out of earshot before he took Kora aside by the elbow.
“How bad’s Roc lookin’?”
(OOC: assuming something casual about the damage.)
“How long afore we can git?”
(OOC: again, looking for a good answer… will alter the response if necessary.)
Wyatt nodded and released her arm. He hadn’t been holding it tight and for a moment had forgotten he was holding her at all. When he realized he was he felt an internal wash of embarrassment at manhandling a woman who could probably serve his liver up for supper. Outwardly, he was as calm as a desert dune in the noon-day sun.
“Ku,” he muttered. “I don’ wanna take away from your fun, Kora, but we desperately need Roc ready for action as soon as possible. I wanna get clear of this iceberg as soon as possible.”
(OOC: again, will add follow-up if need be.)
The conversation was over quick as Wyatt let his crew settle in to enjoy a meal. Converging on the kitchen he caught the sounds of bacon spattering in the frying pan and a wash of memories flooded his brainpan like a dry gulch being run with spring water. He could practically see Eden at the range, frying up his breakfast before the morning had broken. Summer was still asleep, having just suckled, and his beautiful wife was smiling over her shoulder at him while he sat and watched her work. He loved watching her work: that slim figure, even after childbirth, the natural curl of her hair, the roundness of her face…
The clattering of plates atop the table broke him from his reverie and he realized he’d been zoning into that dangerous world of memory for the duration of the preparation.
“Well,” Sam said, his voice filled with pride. “We gots some veggies, the bacon’s done right, some coffee, and eggs… veggies fer the lady,” he smiled and leaned back while everyone reached for plates.
Wyatt hung back, leaning against the wall and watching his crew go to work on the vittles. He wasn’t hungry at all now. He’d eaten the breakfast that Trish had put together, and while that was dancing with the memories he’d just had, he was fit for now. Taking a deep breath, he began to mosey about the kitchen, staying out of Dash’s way, and casually taking in the decorations, sparse as they were. Whenever he could without being too obvious, he’ll pause and stare out a window that gives him a nice view of the other door—the door that the Celestia would be docking at. After a time, he found his way back to the table and Asher’s seat. Placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders Wyatt leans down and quietly asks after his arm.
(OOC: will post follow up if necessary).
Giving the young man a pat on the shoulder Wyatt rises and nods his thanks to Willow for taking care of Ash just in time for the warning to sound.
Calmly looking over to Sam and Jim, Wyatt raises his eyebrows and tips his hat back with a flick of his finger.
“This is your home, boys. I ain’t about t’ tread on nothin’, but I gotta tell you I ain’t keen going out there with pants around my ankles, if ya catch my drift. So, unless you two have a right mighty urge to objectify, I’m gonna suggest me an’ mine take up someplace defensively proper with our iron skinned.”
Wyatt was only partially telling the truth. Fact was, he wasn’t going to wait for their OK.
“Dash, go high with Asher. Kora, you an me’ll stay grounded for the time. Willow, girl, stay outta sight for the time being. They got a basement you can shore up in unless we need you.”
Wyatt skinned his Colt and spun the cylinder, needlessly checking the rounds as he approached one of the windows that afforded him a view of the spread in the right direction—the shotgun would be for close quarter fighting. He placed himself against the wall and peered out the window, hoping beyond hope that someone in that boat needed to pee real bad and their waste dispenser unit was on the fritz.
(OOC: should the crew of the Celestia come out shooting, Wyatt won’t hesitate to return fire providing it makes sense. He’s not going to fire at extreme range for his weapon, and he’s not going to break glass if it isn’t necessary. If any of the crew gets shot, he’ll yell for Willow, but keep focusing on the threat. If he gets shot, he’ll keep focusing on the threat as he can, ignoring the pain if at all possible. If the call is to retreat, he’ll be the last out of the building, inviting Sam and Jim back to Rocinante and radioing ahead to get Trish on the alert. Should the bad guys go after Rocinante, Wyatt’ll shoot ‘em deader than a jack on a highway… if’n he can. He has no intention of letting people shoot up his crew, nor his paycheck, and he won’t hesitate to burn ‘em should they get in his sights.)
Posted on 2007-05-02 at 04:17:48.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Waiting to continue until...
Need some others to post their actions at least before I move things on.
Posted on 2007-05-02 at 03:46:53.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Change of plans
The sounds of the scuffle beyond the door were too much for Char to sit idly back and ignore. Dapple had surely engaged, and that meant that the ruse didn’t work. Char had heard enough, and seen enough, of the Green’s handiwork to know that they could make short work of the young thief and an insane wizard in less time that it would take to open the door. Still, there was nothing for it now: they had to engage.
“We go,” the ranger said quietly and abruptly to the gladiator as he put shoulder to the door and charged forward. He moved so as to afford him at least one weapon as a defense and another for striking, stepping inside and quickly to the left in order to provide Maximus room to move. His icy gaze passed over the stairs and the trapped men inside—”Were dey green?”--and came to rest on the greens. They were his target. They were Death incarnate, and Char was going to put them down as quickly as he could.
“Da greens, Maximus-lad. Go fer da kill!”
It wasn’t often that anyone would hear the ranger suggest such absolute ends. He hoped that his companions would take full advantage of this moment.
(OOC: Char will aggressively attack the greens, especially the one on Dapple, until they are dead. If he has the opportunity, he'll call out the occasional order as it makes sense to him [such as if the green golem-creatures are breaking free of the web and going to converge on their back]. Defensively, he'll do what he can to work up a nice little bladed barrier with his swordplay, position himself the best he can so that Maximus and the others can pull Dapple and Jal to safety back the way they'd come, and then strategically retreat back to the position at the door where they can hold things better.)
Posted on 2007-05-02 at 03:45:51.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Does this mean?
Are you not posting then Sui?
Posted on 2007-04-30 at 23:44:40.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Done and done.
I've moved the game on.
Posted on 2007-04-29 at 00:54:07.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Carrying it on
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”
It was as though the announcement of their ineptitude had opened the doors for trouble. From the direction of the Hole the three men heard the sounds of gunfire. Some of it sounded like high caliber handguns, but there was also automatic weapon’s fire as well. It was a quick spattering that they heard and then it was followed up by calls from the roof. The action was going down, but it wasn’t coming from inside. It was coming from the rooftop!
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Firewind was a special breed of medical. He hadn’t taken his education as a way off the Streets, but instead, he’d been forced to embrace the way of life due to unfortunate circumstances. These circumstances had led him to seek combat instruction from a reclusive solo and it was to this mentor that the medtech now attributed his calm reaction and quick thinking. He’d come along to sedate Merry Deth, and that was what he was going to do. He could see she was reaching behind her, see that she had a wild, frantic look in her beautiful eyes as she slowly rose from the couch Peacekeeper had just put Stallion over, and he instinctively knew that if she achieved a weapon their mission would be a complete failure.
It started slow in his mind, the rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, but the momentum built and Keahi quickly found himself clearing the distance between him and Queen Merry. His right hand had first darted towards his Baretta, but he’d altered its course to jam it into his pocket and was already producing the airhypo he’d prepared. The sedative wasn’t the most powerful knock out drug, but it should work.
Leaping over the coffee table Firewind landed on the couch with his right leg pressed shin against her thighs and his left forearm against her collarbones slamming her back against the couch and trapping her right arm behind her back. He could feel her arch her back, her hips twisting beneath him like a frantic lover. It was an attempt to knock him off, but it was unsuccessful. He weighed more and he was already inching his way into a decent grapple. It wasn’t a sure thing, but he was close, the airhypo held out away from her body so she couldn’t use her left hand to knock it free.
From overhead the sounds of muffled gunfire could be heard over the patterned slapping of rain on the windows.
(Spiff’s action… please, everyone remember to post your offensive and defensive strategy so I can just move us through this.)
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
The motion was as smooth as French chocolate silk on a glamvid model’s body. Guardian hit the graveled roof and as he was rising up from the forced crouch of his landing, he produced the chipped .44. Straight-armed and with only a slight turn of the head, the large bodyguard snapped off a single round and watched, satisfied, as the ganger’s head disappeared in a spray of black against the tumultuous night sky. The rifle that the man held vanished in the shadows as did his body.
Guardian knew that the party wasn’t over though. There will still three vipers in this pit and as he was turning to face the other parallel to his position he hear the sound of a three round burst fill the night and braced for impact while still training his weapon in that direction, the crosshairs in his eye jumping across the jagged scenery to square up on the shadowy form spewing fire from the mouth of his rifle. There was the sound of metal being struck somewhere nearby; dull thunks into the rooftop that registered within Guardian’s head as near misses. Nothing struck true and DigitalScribe was slowly pushing himself up from his crash landing, but this was a peripheral knowledge for the bodyguard brought to him through his training alone. His focus was on the immediate danger in the street punk.
The crosshairs blinked red for a brief moment and Guardian snapped off his second shot. The shadow that was the ganger spun about in a near 360° before collapsing to the rooftop, his weapon dropping harmlessly to the gravel.
Two down and Guardian knew it wasn’t over. At least DigitalScribe seemed to have recovered from his crashlanding. The media was on his knees and sucking in deep breaths, both hands on his thighs as he tried to push himself up. There were cries coming from the front of the building, but no sign of the gangers yet. Guardian had seconds maybe before the battle continued. At least the media wasn’t out of it, and Guardian saw that the green light was on the camera. Maybe the whole crazy scenario had just been caught on video…
“Get…” Frankie staggered to his feet and began stumbling towards the relative cover that the cooling ducts would provide as he produced a Sternmeyer from underneath his overcoat. He was still sucking air. He’d had the breath knocked clean out of him.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am
(For those of you following the timeline, this is still the first combat phase. Only Guardian has taken two actions. Everyone else has taken one. Pretty impressive shooting Guardian.)
Posted on 2007-04-28 at 21:38:11.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Starting it up.
Jim laughs heartily, “Well we’s don’t have sausage Dash-man, but we does have a side of bacon we can’t be keeping for fear of going bad, and The eggs come to us mixed, so you’ll have to like scrambled.” Jim looks over at the far empty airlock again, “But please bring your crew in for a bite. We ain’t had company for awhile and Sam gets tired of my talkin’ to myself. Them in the other ship will be a spell and if things get nasty then we are best in numbers. Any your crew not the fighting type, we’s got a basement, safe and snug.”
Sam comes up to shake hands as well, “Bailey Sachet, he’s your contact on Regina, well he hides some of the farm goods insides those containers which keeps them frozen. That’s hows we got good vittles here. Part of the payment for the ice the miners need so bad. Once we take them out and thaw them though, they start going fast, even in the icebox, so we have a feast and you’re timing was right. Yeah, it’s illegal to haul livestock and fresh fixins between worlds, but at absolute zero there ain’t much fear of contamination. I’m sure you’s folk don’t mind partaking in a little under the law action.”
Wyatt was absolutely certain that he didn’t care a whit about transportin’ cargo he wasn’t aware of what it fully contained. He’d heard plenty of stories about transport ships being blown open in the Black because the cargo had been unstable, but they hadn’t known. While his ire rose almost immediately at the news he swallowed it just as quickly, for the fact was that the cargo weren’t hostile and they’d get some good eats out of it. With a nod, Wyatt reached in for his com unit and placed it up against his ear.
“Roc, why don’t ya all come on down to the spread for a bite t’ eat. Step lightly folks, we don’t want t’ ruin Sam’s tomatoes.” As the radio squelched he hoped they caught the drift. He didn’t want no one leaving Roc without some sort of weapon… anyone except Willow that is. He didn’t think he could remember a time she’d strapped on.
Sung tries to position himself in such a manner so as to be able to see the other airlock, if at all possible, and tips his hat back. “So, Jim, I don’t mean t’ be rude, but yer not plannin’ t’ pack nothin’ un-ice-like in what we’re packin’ out are you?”
Posted on 2007-04-28 at 20:40:21.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Raven and Greenleaf...
Well, I could move things on with just Raven posting. I think Greenleaf just lost that option.
Posted on 2007-04-28 at 01:08:33.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Blammm inspired me.
From the shadows a eerie scratching sound tickles the player's ears. At first it is ignored, maybe purposefully, until first one, then another, and another of the intrepid gamers finally turn to peer into the blackness. It is then that the creature lunges! A writhing torrent of scales and fangs, its huge mouth agape, displaying a struggling Bromern Sal caught within its maw.
"I'll..." The beast lashes its head to the side in a vain attempt to cause the struggling player to slip into its gullet.
"Be..." Unsuccessful with its last attempt, the creature throws itself into a a death roll just like the crocs of the Land Down Under, but Bromern's not an easy kill as he forces his way head and shoulders from the mouth.
"Right..." Realizing that its meal is about to escape, the giant reptillian monster bobs its head and rises up to a vertical angle, hoping gravity will wraps its greedy hands about Sal's body. Grimacing, Bromern lodges a knee against the roof of the creature's mouth and twists to as to keep it wide while he grabs one of the beast's horns so that he can gain some leverage.
"There!" Finally! The brave soul manages to drop from the angry maw and stumble back towards the party; who, peering around the slime-covered player with awe-filled eyes spot a collar around the creature's neck with a dangling tag like that of a dog's tag. Upon this tag are two words displayed prominently as though they were the creature's name:
REAL LIFE
Turning to the others Bromern sighs and peers down at his ruined outfit. "Smokes, but that nearly got me!"
Posted on 2007-04-28 at 01:07:27.
Edited on 2007-04-28 at 01:07:44 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: One more day.
I've sent Greenleaf a PM so we'll give him one more day to respond. If he doesn't at that point I'll let the dice determine his action and move things on.
Posted on 2007-04-25 at 14:09:54.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: The one behind her back...
I just posted what you could see. She has a weapon behind her back and that realization is what your characters just had.
Posted on 2007-04-21 at 16:55:44.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: This is why I want you to wait.
I want the others to post their initial reactions so that I can better tell you all what you hear in that immediate three seconds.
Patience Padawan.
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 14:10:02.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Hee hee hee...
Congrats to Dark Autumn! Peacekeeper earned an IP in Combat Sense!
All right folks (at least those edgerunners who're facing the bullet), I need how you're going to react offensively, defensively, and if retreat is necessary, how you'll react then.
Tann, and Blammm, you'll want to wait until they've posted and I let you know timelines so you can react to what is amounting to gunfire.
Good luck Choombattas!
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 02:55:00.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: And it begins...
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Coyote paused while he considered the suggestion. The rain had added to the slick look of his long, black hair and he stroked his thin beard as he squinted at the building they stood next to. He kept glancing back towards the Hole while he deliberated until he finally shook his head.
“No,” he said with a deepening of his near perpetual scowl. “I ain’t trying to be difficult, Hombre, but I don’t have the range t’ do no one no good from the top of that.” He reached around his back and gave his hardware a pat. “Purely gama corta, mi amigo. If ya know what I mean.”
Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The room hung silent for a moment after Spiff made his speech. It was heavy, like a Georgia thunderstorm in midsummer. The thunder rumbling outside was like the angry growl of a caged beast… and quite suddenly, it was released.
“You lyin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Stallion’s hand darted for his gun as he rose from his seat, murder in his eyes.
Dawn was caught flat-footed as her boss leapt from his seat, but Peacekeeper and Firewind weren’t. The room was suddenly a flurry, and it’d be seconds before Stallion’s bodyguards burst into the room as they had a bit of distance to cover.
Everything was moving much slower for the enhanced bounty hunter. She saw Stallion’s muscles tense beneath his armored jeans as he began to scream at them and knew he was coming to his feet. The bunching of his shoulders told her that he planned on skinning steel, so, naturally, she went for her piece and in a fluid motion that belied the natural motion of the human body, Peacekeeper had produced the .44 Automag. She was already wired for it and the targeting scope in her right eye quickly spun the crosshairs to bead on the ganger’s head. He’d just finished yelling “son-of-a-“ when her weapon went off. It kicked in her small hands, but years of experience held it steady. She’d already determined that the ganger was armored underneath his skin and she placed the dual-purpose round right between the man’s eyes. It was a beautiful shot and in the breadth of a nanosecond, Peacekeeper had forced the Wild Things to find a new leader.
Stallion had risen to the occasion in time to get ripped from his feet and thrown over backwards. His right hand flung away from his body and cast his weapon across the room as his feet slipped out from underneath him. He ended his momentum with his lower back stretched out over the back of the couch.
It’d happened faster than most could have thought possible, but Firewind had been on edge ever since he’d climbed in that van. He, too, was boosted, as any combat doc should be, and as the woman on the other side of Spiff moved so gracefully and quickly, Keahi was producing his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dawn moving as if through heavy water, her hands inching towards her weapons. In front of him, Merry Deth was also moving as though slowed by a motion frame, reaching for her weapon. Spiff stood between Firewind and Peacekeeper, cellphone still in his hand, slightly behind their position as he’d turned and stepped away to place his fateful call.
(OOC: It is Firewind’s turn. Merry Deth’s moving fast too, faster than Spiff, but Spiff is moving faster than Dawn. Yes… the monkey feces has hit the spinning blades despite Spiff’s use of luck. Can’t beat an exploding ten plus another ten unless you roll the same thing. Sorry Spiff, and good luck choombattas.)
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
"You serious about this, choomba? Are you armed and able to give me some cover if needed?" Already pushing himself slowly backwards and away from the edge, Guardian felt good about the decision despite the obvious danger. At least they were moving now and moving meant getting warm. "Just remember I'm not a soldier... But I'll do what it takes to keep you alive."
“I’ll be honest here, Guardian,” DigitalScribe said with a worried glance back over the edge before he started to move back away from it alongside his bodyguard. “I’ve got heat, but I’m no soldier either.”
The words weren’t meant to be a pep talk, just honest. It was always best to be honest in the face of death as far as Frankie was concerned; and here, well, death just about stank up the place.
When the two men were back far enough Frankie had a thought. “I guess if we aim for the other side of the fire escape, should we jump short, we’ll hit the fire escape instead of falling to our deaths. But if we make it, then we’ll be that much better off.”
It was unnecessary as an observation went, but the comment brought a sense of ease to the situation for DigitalScribe. It wasn’t that he was afraid of conflict. He’d been in many a firefight. No, this was more of a combination of the thrill of the hunt coming to conclusion and the fact that he was sure they were going to have to face off against Croaker and Peacekeeper when all was said and done. He hadn’t yet decided how he was going to deal with that little pickle.
“Ready?”
DigitalScribe’s boot scraped gravel as he took off at full speed towards the ledge. The weight of his wet clothes was something he was very aware of, and the bouncing shoulder rig he wore was something that he found himself worrying about more than he should have. Within moments he was airborne, bits of gravel and water cascading from his feet, his arms spinning in a windmill fashion to keep him upright. The alley sped by underneath and before he wanted it to, the descent was upon him.
Guardian was hot on his heels and the rush of air washed his wet face just as quickly as he passed over the urban gorge. He had been right about the extra weight of the wet gear, but he compensated, and soon found himself falling towards the roof of the Hole.
The toe of his boot caught the cement rim of the rooftop and DigitalScribe felt it slip almost immediately. His heart leapt into his throat, his hands went out in front of him, and the dark gravel of the roof rushed up to meet his face. The small pebbles tore into the soft flesh of his palms, the weight of his momentum pushing his chest into the surface and the air from his lungs at the impact. He bounced, half-rolled, and then struck the rooftop again with a heavy groan. His vision burst into a billion small speckles of light and his mind was washed over by a wave of numbness.
Guardian landed easily and slid to right himself. To his left, he felt more than saw, his employer bite it hard against the rooftop, and then the audible grunt and smack of DigitalScribe’s body hitting gravel rang out to him clear as a bell. They were closer to the ganger on the southwest corner of the building, and it was to this location that told Guardian that the man had heard something. The shadow was rising up and turning towards them, his rifle coming to bear.
(OOC: Guardian has initiative, but DigitalScribe is stunned, so he’s on his own this round).
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 02:52:27.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Ah, the weekend!
*Melts*
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 01:46:57.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Conversating
“Well, come on up gentlemen. Your motives may be pure but I ain’t too sure about that other ship’s. We can offer you some nice, home-cooked breakfast, and coffee, as a way to make amends for our neighborly-like stance.”
Wyatt gave a quick nod as though confirming what he’d already assumed would happen and smacked Sam on the arm with the back of his hand as he stepped forward.
“Guess that’s Diplomacy one, Violence zero,” he said wryly as he proceeded on his way towards the prospector’s digs. He had to agree with the fellow who’d done the yelling (Jim was it?) that the other ship was more than a bit of an enigma, and Wyatt wasn’t too keen on surprises.
“Sam,” he said calmly as the two approached the building. “Don’t take nothin’ fer granted, and see if you can’t check on that other airlock every once in a while. I’ll do the same, an’ I know you weren’t likely t’ doze off on me, but it needed sayin’ none-the-less.”
As they reached the porch a tall, thin man stepped from within. He wore denim overalls and a red flannel shirt that looked to Wyatt as though they’d seen better days. He was smiling all easy-like and had a way about him that made Wyatt want to like him. It was a natural ease-setter, causing the captain to feel the symptoms of relaxing his guard stretch their wings, and that was dangerous. His hair was as much a mess as his clothing, but it seemed to fit, and Sung couldn’t help but think that this guy must be a hoot around a camp fire.
“Jim Ryan,” the man said, offering his right hand as Wyatt and Dash stepped onto the porch.
“Wyatt Sung,” the captain responded in an equally relaxed fashion. He let Sam do his own bit of introduction as he peered into what looked to be a fairly well-furnished establishment.
Once introductions were finished Wyatt lifted his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair to release it from the pressed-down nature it had taken form to. They were making their way inside and he figured now was as good a time as any to press the issue of the other ship.
“Jim,” his voice carried a near lazy tone to it; almost a drawl. “You made mention of havin’ trouble in the past with claim jumpers, so I’ve no doubt you and your partner know how to use a rifle, but I’ve got my own crew to be concerned with an’ this other ship… well, they come down in front of us and near skinned Rocinante with their burners like they was itchin’ t’ put us adrift in the Black, or at the very least; didn’t care. Now, in my book, that spells trouble.
“Now, this here’s your bit of dirt—er, uh, ice—an’ I won’t pretend that I’m in any sort of command over what’s yours, but I’d feel a might better knowing that we was pretty safe conducting our business and partakin’ of your hospitality what with my crew attached all precarious to the belly of a comet and all.
“Sides which, I got me a right hungry crew an’ I’m sure they’d love some parcels of something other than protein paste for breakfast if’n you’re offering.”
Posted on 2007-04-19 at 02:45:05.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Now that I review
The timestamps mean that there's plenty of time for Eol and I to post some conversation bits with the prospectors before you all are done with your chores. 
I'll try to post tonight.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 14:07:44.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Was eyeing the...
Char was too caught up eyeing the two-weapon fighting. Never quite made it to the deoderant.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 14:04:47.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Where can I purchase that?
Is it on aisle 4?
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:41:16.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Sure...
As far as Wyatt is concerned the danger isn't over yet. He's not keen on inviting Willow into the thick of it, and the rest of the crew is busy with their duties right now. If things go smooth (I think the timestamps Roger put out there for us put the conversation between Sam, Wyatt, and the prospectors quite a bit ahead of the docking ship) he'll be more than happy to have the whole of the crew join them for a homecooked meal. Right now, he's not being a selfish jerk, but is concerned about his crew's safety.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:39:46.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Thanks for the heads up
I may just post that basic response for you.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:35:49.
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