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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Well...
I haven't heard from Jazzer's player in a bit, so that'd be:
Jazzer (Netrunner)
Preacher (Netrunner/Solo)
Bullseye (Nomad)
Posted on 2007-02-10 at 01:44:25.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: As a fixer...
Spiff would definitely be more prone to talk than attack.
Posted on 2007-02-09 at 02:44:49.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Puff's out chest
I actually purchased a comm unit on my character sheet... *Feels all special for having his anal retentive nature come in handy.*
Posted on 2007-02-09 at 02:43:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Something's not right
Somethin' about that comment just makes the whole mental image all that much more disturbing...
Posted on 2007-02-09 at 02:32:59.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Back to the Boat
“I reckon Ma’s boy done got milked an’ then commenced ta getting’ his gun checked.” Wyatt glanced at Sam with raised eyebrows as the pilot continued with a knowing smirk on his face. “Kid’s got more hormones’n a ruttin’ billy-goat with ten peckers! Ya want I should go fetch ‘im?”
The captain wasted no time in considering his response. “Naw. Let the Kid have a little fun while we’re dockside. I figure you, me, an’ Willow can handle Dodger an’ Asher knows where Rocinante is corralled.
We got us a bit of time t’ pass ‘fore the meetin’, Sam. If you wanna check out the local color, I’m good with that. I’ll be headin’ back to Rocinante t’ go over some figures before Dodger tries t’ rip us off.”
(OOC: whether Sam goes with Wyatt or not, Wyatt will head back to the ship to crunch numbers, review the cargo details, plan for Griff’s transfer, etc. until it is time to leave for the meeting.)
Posted on 2007-02-08 at 01:30:01.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I apologize if I failed to mention...
They are wearing leathers mostly, though some have Gibson body armor, but none have head gear.
Posted on 2007-02-08 at 01:17:31.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Rollin'
Wyatt heard all that the man had to say, though at first he was loath to swallow it without a chaser. His study of Griff put his mind more at ease though, and what’s more was he knew the man to be a straight shooter.
“Sense enough,” Wyatt frowned a bit as he contemplated the possibilities. Those fuel cells helped to settle his mind a bit and he hadn’t been lying when he’d indicated that Griff was offering way more than he owed. Of course, this led to the funny fact that Griffith might consider himself the sort who was now owed a favor should Wyatt accept the work. Sung turned the tumbler about between his fingers as he silently weighed the facts over, then he gave a nod.
“Done deal, Griff. Though we gotta establish a line somewhere’s here abouts concerning that cargo we currently hold ‘fore we can pick up a new brand. Shouldn’t take us none to long to procure us a deal—hell, got’s us a meet an’ greet this afternoon. We’ll swing by Royale after an’ solidify transfer of the goods.”
Rising from his seat, Wyatt reached across the table with his left hand, leaving his right free to skin his hogsleg should he need to, and took Griff’s hand in a strong handshake. “One last thing Griff,” he said as they released. “Some Feds were pokin’ ‘round Royale when we swung by to see if you was home. Where the Nien Mohn’s concerned one can’t be too careful, so I thought I’d pass it your way just in case the Luck o’ Three has somethin’ to do with that.”
(OOC: assuming Griff or Sam doesn’t have anything else to add…)
Tipping his hat, Wyatt turned and began to saunter towards the stairs and coat check, his eyes searching out Asher in the process, confident that Sam was right near him the whole time. After a moment, Sung glanced towards his friend and raised his eyebrows.
“Where’d the Kid go off to?”
Posted on 2007-02-07 at 04:37:35.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Inside Out
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Croaker’s orders were as quick as his response and the result was that two men rushed out into the rain, splashed through the gutter water, and hoofed it across the blacktop, blurred headlights heading towards them from the south, but easily outside of any danger range. Coyote remained where he was until Croaker and Preacher resolved their new position crouched down near the cement dais bearing the large tree. Caution had been placed on the back burner in an effort to get into a position where they could back up those Croaker had sent inside; so much so, as a matter-of-fact, that the two men barely registered the swiveling security camera at the entrance to the apartment building they’d just crouched in front of.
The position wasn’t enough though. They were still easily a hundred meters from the Hole and in this weather that made for poor marksmanship. Ahead of them, north along the east side of the street, was the private drive, and another, smaller tree planted in a simple box planter. This position would put them within fifty meters and almost kitty-corner to the Hole while staying across the street. The only problem with that was that it gave an angled view of the entrance; still, no matter how you looked at it, the approach would likely be spotted by those watching from the rooftop.
Coyote peered through the rain at the individual shadow he saw perched on the corner of the Hole’s roof for any sign that the man might have noticed Croaker and Preacher’s approach and taken it the right way; which was to say that they were advancing in an aggressive manner, and the gangers up there could never be certain as to their intention. Good money said that they should perk right up, take aim, and see if the threat was on their position, but these were gangers so Coyote hoped beyond hope that they were just miserable in their post, head ducked against the rain, and not all that observant. After all, a dead man don’t get paid, and a man who let his meal ticket get diced in a rival gang’s cubby hole wasn’t worth much on the Street anyway. So, Coyote kept glancing back and forth between the two men he was supposed to be covering and the guard on the roof. It wouldn’t necessarily be accurate at this distance, but the spray of lead might be discouraging, so Coyote had his miniuzi in hand, ready to pelt the rooftop should it be necessary.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
The hall that the three intrepid edgerunners found themselves in was wide at five meters and tall at three and a half meters. The interior floor was ceramic tile, tan in color with a slight peppering of white. The walls were a bubbled plaster painted eggshell white and the ceiling was orange peel textured drywall with a coat of white paint. It was clean; an odd feature for any gang hangout and one that stood out to all three of them. The other oddity was that none of the Wild Things seemed to be drunk. There were a few with beers in hand, and more than one with joints or cigarettes, but no one was passed out on the floor, no one had airhypos in sight, and there wasn’t a single crushed beer can anywhere in around. Of course, living on the edge meant rolling with the punches, and in this case, the punches were all too corporate.
“So you are prepared.” Spiff was making a desperate play. He’d bluffed his way in the door, obviously putting Mr. Bald and Pierced off his guard, but the man was recovering quickly and the fixer knew this could get very messy, very quick, especially with all of the hardware these roughs were packing. “No, he’s not waitin’ on us. You haven’t been kept out of the loop, buddy. It’s a surpise. And don’t tell him yet, I want to see if Ol’ Stallion’s on top of his game… It’s all right if you don’t know where he is, gato. I’ll find him.”
It was a decent play, especially for one who had already fallen into the shark pit and was now swimming with a swarm of great whites, docile though they appeared for the moment. Unfortunately, whether it was that the Wild Things were tough veterans of the Street, or this new-found organization, Spiff, Peacekeeper, and Firewind didn’t know, but the ruse had worn thin and the first of the great whites was coming closer to take a bite.
“No,” Mr. Bald and Pierced grinned wickedly. “You ain’t gonna go find him on yer own, gato.” The man raised his submachine gun so that it was leveled at Spiff’s retreating back, putting his arm within a meter and a half of Peacekeeper and Firewind. The others who’d poured into the hall to see what the commotion was about didn’t follow suit right away, but their stances said they were more than ready to bring weapons to bear. “Stallion don’t like surprises an’ wouldn’t look too kindly on you just waltzin’ in swingin’ yer balls about as though you owned the place; giving up the information or not. If ya know what’s good for you, the lot of ya will sit tight an’ look pretty while I have me a conversation with Stallion to see what he wants us to do to—er, with you.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
Posted on 2007-02-07 at 04:25:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Oh, Char picked up on Dapple's inhibitions pretty quick.
As a matter-of-fact, he knows you might have to kill him. 
Posted on 2007-02-01 at 01:52:39.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Yeah, I'll spend one.
I'm looking to spend one plot point as far as a Sense Motive check is concerned. Don't want to run my crew into something we can't handle.
Posted on 2007-02-01 at 01:51:49.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I appreciate it.
I'll give them until Sunday and then start looking for replacements. That is, come Monday we'll be looking to refill.
Posted on 2007-02-01 at 01:48:36.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I need to hear from you people.
The feedback is overwhelming... Looks like we might need a whole new crew?
Posted on 2007-01-31 at 02:42:25.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Pretty pretty
Wyatt caught sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye as the other man approached and shifted to allow his friend more of a position in front of Griff. You don’t put yourself in a flanking position without risking offense, and in a place like this, Wyatt was a pretty straight forward guy, but with the Luck of Three hanging over his head, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Cap,” Dash said, offering the tumbler full of whiskey to Wyatt, “figgered it’d do ya ta knock some dust off.”
Wyatt nodded his thanks and accepted the glass, taking a sip and allowing the liquid fire to roll down his throat while Sam started in on their old friend.
“What say, Grif,” Sam asked, not failing to eyeball the sizable stack of chips in front of the man, “Winnin’ enough ta patch that big ruttin’ hole in yer boat an’ pay Wyatt off, ta boot?” He took another swig of his beer, burped, and looked back and forth between the two captains, seemingly not concerned that he might have interrupted a conversation or breeched the debt subject prematurely… “Who inna gun was at th’ wheel when that mi tian gohn happened, anyhoo?”
Wyatt remained passive though he winced inside and silently invoked a prayer for luck to Buddha at the pilot’s brash nature. Sam certainly wasn’t as superstitious as Wyatt, but they’d been together long enough that the captain had hoped there’d be a little consideration.
“Good to see you too Dash.” Griffith smile was sincere, “Let’s move back a bit where we can have some privacy” He says pointing to an empty booth in the back. “Your ship mate there seems to be occupied by the young lady, so we can keep this between us.”
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder to where the Kid was obviously in over his head. Even living on board with an individual as close to a companion as one could come without actually being one, Asher was more greenhorn when it came to women than Wyatt thought possible. With a nod, he followed Griffith back to the table he’d indicated and took a seat, tilting his hat back in the process.
Griffith drinks from his beer and then says, “I’ll be plain with you. The crybaby story is what me and Deke, my pilot told the authorities. I am none too eager to tell you the details, so let it rest at the fault was my own and I blame no other Bie Woo Lohng.
“Now I own you money, and I don’t want to be no Gwai Koh. I have the 400 I owe in the pot I just won, but you’ll understand if I am none to eager to lose what I have got to fix Royale. So I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out.”
Wyatt nodded by way of urging Griffith on, but otherwise remained quiet, his tumbler sitting in the table in front of him.
“We were on the way to complete a job, and I can’t do that now. What if I give you the what’s and wherefore, let you take it from me. It is a good job, simple hauling but you need special equipment, which I have in my hold.”
“Simple haulin’?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.
“Ever heard of the Lullabelle Mine? Two prospectors, Sam Hawkes and Jim Ryan, managed to lash a Bumblebee to the Angel Hair Comet. Attached it right on the core of the comet, right as rain – riding it like a wild horse on the plains. They are mining Ice. I’m not talking the stuff in your drink either. This stuff is a mix of a bunch of chemicals that are used by miner’s to run the equipment. Thing is, you have to keep in cold, hence the special holding units I have in my hold. You pick up the ice, and then fly it to the City of Frisco on Regina. You do that and a man named Balley Sacket will pay you 1000 credits.”
“Simple haulin…” Wyatt shook his head and grinned a lopsided grin. “Griff, there’s more t’ this than yer lettin’ on. Spill it.”
“You’ll have to move fast. I’m already overdue to pick it up and the Mining Consortium would like a piece of this action. Could be a man or two that would move quickly to snatch the job away.” Griffith leans back, “What do you say boys? I can’t do better than to drop a job in your lap and not ask a finder’s fee. Hell, if you return the containers to the Miner’s Guild, you can take my deposit as well.”
Wyatt considered the offer for a moment, glancing at Sam as he did so to get a feel for how the other man felt, then he gave a slight shake of his head and quickly tossed the rest of his drink, screwing up his face at the sting the rotgut gave him as it went down.
“Ai Yah Tien Ah Griff, but you’re paintin’ a pretty right nice. I mean, I’d have t’ be a Buhn Dahn t’ turn it down the way you painted it, but see? That’s what bothers me. Luck o’ Three’s on us here, Puhn Yoh. Got me a hold full o’ cargo I been stuck with rather unexpected like an’ then there’s the condition o’ Royale t’ figure in all this. What ever happened to yer ship’s yer business, but if it had to do with this run that yer offerin’ I’d sure like to know. After all, I got me an’ mine t’ look out fer.”
Posted on 2007-01-29 at 21:48:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: The return
Char backed into the bush a little more and crouched on his haunches (OOC: hide) as he slowly turned the dagger in his gloved hands. He wasn’t looking at the small weapon, but instead his pale eyes scanned his surroundings while his mind worked to decipher the full complexity of what he’d just discovered. Alloryn had left to continue her studies and try to determine anything more about the dreams that haunted her, what was she doing here? Was she here? The ranger glanced down at the blade once more, twisting it about so that he could look it over with more acuity. He hadn’t much of an opportunity to study the weapon when it had been in Alloryn’s hands on their previous mission, but he was certain that it was hers. Suddenly he felt a little sick to his stomach. The poor girl was running, she was scared… there was no other explanation for the tracks he’d found, sparse though they were.
Char had never been one who thought very highly of the aristocracy, but he’d had time to get to know Alloryn and Arien; he counted them friends, and those were few and very far between for the ranger. As he looked up from the dagger and peered through the undergrowth surrounding him to make sure he was still alone, the sick fear in his gut turned to anger. His friend was in need and their mission was pending. The direction the tracks had gone deeply imbedded in his mind’s eye, Char slipped away from his hiding place, tucking the dagger in his belt underneath his cloak secure enough that it wouldn’t drop out, but wouldn’t be in the way when he and Dapple returned to the cliff.
When the two scouts had touched down on the spongy earth at the base of the cliff, Char had designated their rendezvous point as well as a determined time for return. They’d need light to scale the cliff face, but he didn’t want it bright enough to endanger someone in the tower of that crumbling artifact spotting them in their ascent. He was a bit early on the return, but he didn’t mind. It gave him more of an opportunity to figure out what he was going to report. It wasn’t that he was planning on keeping anything secret, but he knew Arien well enough to know that should the knight suspect his sister was in danger (as Char did) then he’d be shooting straight towards that keep with his sword out, armor clanking, and a battle roar on his tongue… at least he’d be less likely to consider tact; that was Alloryn’s specialty. Then again, hadn’t it been Arien who’d been the “voice” of reason earlier? Maybe the lad was maturing without Alloryn’s skirts to rustle and wake him.
Char sat quietly until Dapple made herself known, then he motioned for her to hold for a bit while he explained what he’d found.
“Der be soldiers ‘bout,” Char whispered, staring at where he assumed Dapple sat based on the imprints she left in the earth. “Foun’ some tracks lookin’ like dey be chasin’ afta some runnin’ prey.” Char shifted and retrieved the dagger. The look he gave from beneath his hood and through his tangled mass of mud brown hair was heavy with the unspoken story of their find. When he was sure Dapple had recognized the dagger, Char replaced it underneath his cloak. “Dey wen’ off in dat direction.”
(OOC: if there is any more conversation needed, I’ll back post).
Having shared so that they were on the same page (after all, Dapple didn’t like to draw attention to herself more than necessary and giving reports was inflicting a lot of face time on her, so it made sense that Char should have all of the information—OOC: assuming here, if Dapple doesn’t want to give up the spotlight, I’ll edit) Char led the way up the cliff face once more, rolling over the lip and crawling away from the edge before crouching and moving to where camp had been established. When Dapple had moved up next to him, Char pulled his cloak about him and eyed his friends and companions.
With the climb behind them dusk had settled wrapping Char’s features in shadow. Only his eyes stood out from beneath the mass of earth-colored darkness. He made the report simple, touching on what they were all expecting first.
“Da keep be occupied, fer certain,” he began in low tones, keeping his ears open for any unusual sounds. This close to the enemy’s camp one couldn’t be too careful. “Da’ Moon seen a Green on a wall for ‘e foun’ da sewer gra’e. Da’ Moon say it be proper fer an entry poin’.”
Char took a breath and reached behind him to wrap his fingers around the dagger. “Der be more,” he said as he pulled the dagger out, keeping it concealed along his forearm for the moment. “I foun’ tracks abou’ da keep groun’s. Dey were givin’ chase t’ someone… female…” The ranger slowly revealed the dagger, holding it up for everyone to see before offering it over to Arien.
Posted on 2007-01-29 at 21:27:21.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Killer Chipmonks?
When I was first gaming we let one of our friends DM who had never done it before. He was a little crazy wild and enjoyed stirring things up. My long time gaming buddy and I were eager to play together for once since it was usually one of us who were the DM so we cracked open or favorite characters and dropped the dice on the table... we were eventually attacked by killer, flying beavers... that was the last time that friend ever DM'd.
Posted on 2007-01-29 at 21:27:05.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Hope all went well.
I hope that the interview went well and that the foot heals quickly.
Posted on 2007-01-27 at 16:45:33.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I guess it is time to figure out who's still with us.
All right folks, sound off.
Posted on 2007-01-26 at 23:36:23.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: To and fro
Char had said his piece and was more than ready to go on the hunt, but the others kept throwing out ideas and Dapple seemed more than ready to be turned invisible should Jal be capable of doing so. The ranger's skin tingled at the prospect of magic being used to hide him from existance. The very idea was more than alien to the man and he remained quiet while Jal admitted he'd the capability. Even as Valentine spit out his thoughts on the matter, Char was staring over his shoulder towards the cliff's edge, only paying half a mind to the finalization of the plan as far as magic was concerned. He didn't hold it against Dapple that she'd want to engage in the protection of magic, after all, she was used to the nuances of the city and the natural world was a bit different. Turning back to the party after eveyrone had said their piece, Char scratched at his beard.
"Aye den," Char slid his backpack from his shoulders and set it at his feet, reslinging his quiver in a fluid motion. "Da' Moon take da magic, an' I be fer passin' on da offa. Daylight be awaistin', so providin' we all be set proppa, we should be on da move."
Posted on 2007-01-25 at 02:30:08.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Good suggestions.
Thanks!
Posted on 2007-01-25 at 02:07:44.
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Topic: Star Trek: Discovery - Q&A
Subject: Funny thing...
I'm watching TNG right now.  Count the Gavisons in.
Posted on 2007-01-25 at 02:06:01.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Hmm...
Having never been a recovering alcoholic, nor having ever been keen on alcohol in general, I don't rightly know if Wyatt would be clean free of the stuff, or if he'd imbibe on occasion. Any suggestions?
Posted on 2007-01-23 at 03:46:47.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: The Idoru
(OOC: Backpost)
“Captain Sahib, Trish has given me a grocery list longer than my arm, and wants to know if we could get more than half of what we need, or if it is protein paste for here on.” Willow looks at the list in her hand in mock dismay, “Personally I might die if I can’t have Trish’s fresh Bao, but we must make do. Not all of us are hearty adventuring folk.” She stopped to shift her outfit back into perfect positioning, beaming a playful smile at Asher as he watched. “Would you mind floating some money my way dear, so I might go with Kora to pick up provisions?” Willow asked politely while her eyelashes fluttered at a passing soldier.
Wyatt paused and glanced over his shoulder, his mind going over the little bit of credits they had left and those crates sitting in the cargo hold. Taking a deep breath he sighed. They really couldn’t afford much right now, but hopefully after the trip to the Idoru that would change.
“Ya got sixty credits fer now,” Turning back towards the Royale, Wyatt muttered under his breath, “Let’s be hopin’ that fer now is all it is.”
Wyatt couldn’t help but smile a little at Dash’s bravado once they stepped inside the mood-setting tavern. Sure, the girls were inviting, but to the captain of Rocinante, there’d never be another Eden, nor would the holes left in his heart be filled by anything… not anything. Willow had actually helped him come to grips with that. Ambling down the stairs Wyatt scanned the room in search of Griff. Wyatt spotted him just in time to witness his winning hand.
Sung gave Dash and the Kid a nod as they peeled away, heading for the bar and then he moseyed on over to where his friend sat. Pushing his coat back, Wyatt hooked his thumbs in his belt just over the buckle and peered down at Griffith from underneath the brim of his own hat, noting the shifting gaze between him and the winnings.
“Wyatt Sung! You gao yang jong duh goo yang!” Griffith says with a laugh, “It is good to see you! My luck is turning.” He motions to the dealer to hold his winning and gets up, extending his hand to shake yours. “What brings you to Beaumonde my friend?”
“Guess you could say it was luck as well, Griff.” Wyatt gripped his hand in a firm, friendly shake and motioned back to the table. “Don’t mean t’ take you away from yer game, but we reigned in next t’ Royale and saw what’s been goin’ yer way. Have some business t’ attend to a bit later, but thought that I’d be a poor trail partner if I didn’ look ya up first.” It was pretty rude, after all, to ask for money right off the bat.
Posted on 2007-01-21 at 18:32:21.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: More.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Preacher sniffed and suppressed a cough brought on by the sting in the air. Looking out from beneath the rain pouring off the brim of his hat, the gunslinger pulled his sunglasses down a bit and eyed Coyote. Time was ticking and if they didn’t get things underway soon—“Hey, pardn’r,” Preacher intoned suddenly. Over Coyote’s shoulder he saw Spiff, Peacekeeper, and Firewind make their way up the stoop. “Looks like we might be a bit too late.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Mr. Bald and Pierced blinked and frowned a bit. “Stallion’s waitin’ on you three? He never told me.”
Peacekeeper tensed as the hall filled up with Wild Things. There were men and women alike wearing leather, chains, steel plating, and carrying matching weapons. The gangers didn’t look as though they weren’t buying Spiff’s story and she had to give it to him; he’d gotten them in the door, but the atmosphere certainly wasn’t as friendly as one could have hoped. She knew that one wrong statement could send the whole lot of them into a flurry of lead.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Posted on 2007-01-20 at 22:58:07.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: A bedtime story and then down to business.
Char hadn't expected to receive much for his efforts as an ambassador. He hadn't even truly known what to expect as he'd reigned in next to Spellbinder, but when the man had admitted a deficiency in being able to assist magically with a shelter, for some reason the ranger was surprised to receive an offer for physical aid right on the heels of Valentine's boast to the opposite. Char really had nothing more to say at that point so he nodded once, still peering ahead, and clicked his tongue to make Northwind gallop forward to where the knight rode.
Arien's outburst had been something Char had never seen before and it had jarred the ranger a bit; at least enough that he'd listened to Kilgim's words with an open ear like the buck to the wind. It had made him feel guilty at first, then angry at the prospect that his caution was being judged. That too had passed like a heavy thunderstorm leaving a little residual dampness of the spirit. As he rode up next to the smoldering knight. Char really had nothing to say to him and had no desire to spark the man's anger again so he rode in companionable silence for a short distance to show that he was still on board, then he clicked again in a different pattern and Northwind sprang forward once more.
Char's attention was focused on the terrain now, leading them back to the shattered remains of the waymeet. Dismounting near the wall, Char immediately set about securing the parameter before returning to begin work on the shelter. Everything was wet, drenched, and harder to work, but the shelter began to grow despite Nature's efforts. Char knew that Valentine would be there shortly to make good on his promise of working the magical shelter; this one was for the horses.
The rest of the party arrived and went on about the business of finishing up the camp. Char let Arien and Kilgim know he was going to go hunting and then he was off, vanishing into the downpour.
The evening's entertainment was apparently to be provided by Spellbinder. Char sat on the outskirts of the magical globe, still not certain he trusted it, but doing his best to make peace with these two who were inevitably linked with the company he'd grown fond of. The ranger eyed everyone in turn as the tale commenced, wondering after their thoughts on the subject. It was a fantastic tale and after Jal displayed his scars, Char was sure there could be no other version of it, but when it was all said and done he found that despite the honesty, he had nothing to say. Even the next morning left Char at a loss for words and he spent the breaking of camp in silence before moving ahead of the party once more to scout the land.
It was kismet that led him to the cave where they could shelter the horses when they'd proceeded to the point where they'd have to climb. Char enjoyed climbing. It put his strength to the test without forcing him to take life. He put his whole being into the effort, smiling at each new successful purchase, relishing the moment when they all achieved the top.
When the sun was high Char found himself inching to the edge of a rocky outcropping on his belly, his bow in hand, an arrow at ready. Years of experience and a mentor who had been long on patience and filled with wisdom had taught the ranger that if you stood upon a rim the whole of the world could see you just as you could see them. The advantage of higher ground came only if you stayed low to the ground like a morning mist. And so it was that Char caught site of the keep, his belly to the ground, his icy blue gaze taking in every detail.
He spent a little time on that ledge before moving back at a crawl, then standing and running low towards where the rest of the party was still just achieving the cliff.
"Da keep be der, sures 'nuff," he said, crouching on his haunches while he peered at their designated leader. "It be boarded up, same as da magic sight did show back at Freegate, bu' I'll nee' be gettin' closer t' da grounds 'fore I be able t' tell ya wha' lies widdin'"
The ranger glanced about at the people he'd thrown in with before settling on Dapple. "Da Moon an' me'll be back 'fore nigh' fall." He assumed Dapple would want in on this recon and was more than happy for the help, but had to struggle to keep his chin in check when Jal offered to assist as well.
"Wha'?" Char's left eyebrow climbed and his bearded, scruffy, dirt-streaked face took on the expression of doubt.
“Look,” Jal said to the rest, holding the compass so that they could see its face, “the bug-mage’s amulet points at Lord Dwan’s target, as well… whatever magic lies inside must truly be powerful…”
"All da more reason t' let dose o' us who can sneak 'ave a quiet li'l look abou', no?" Char still wasn't sure what to make of the one who spoke with the dead, self-mutilated himself, and occasionally seemed to be on the verge of becoming unhinged. A few days of travel and one battle were usually enough for the ranger to determine the worth of an individual, but with this man there was a lot more he'd need to discover before he'd make that decision. "'Less ya can conjure up wha' we saw back a' Freegate, only so's we can see da whites o' them Imperials' eyes should dey be der, I donna know dat I'm too keen on 'avin' t' try an' keep 'idden wit' a cityboy in tow... no 'ffence, bu' da only reason I feel Da Moon can go be because Da Moon done it 'fore, see?" Char motioned between himself and Dapple with a gloved hand covered in dirt. "We been in practice."
Posted on 2007-01-20 at 20:28:38.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Uh, yeah...
Sorry. I've been very busy as of late and am actually stealing time from art production to post. I apologize to everyone for my delay.
Posted on 2007-01-20 at 18:21:39.
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