It's all good. Really, I'm looking for a post from Epstatier and Giddy.

Travel through the gloomy woods does nothing for the warrior priest's mood. He has never considered his imagination a strong one but images of Kith beneath the disgusting undead thing keep popping into his head. He had sent her to her fate with this poor council. Back at the cabin, he had felt like a true hero guided by Therassor to save that family. In this case, he felt more like a fool pretending at strategy. Often, over the course of the morning's journey, the bearded cleric mentally scolds himself for sticking so strictly to military strategy when they are obviously not in a military situation. He should have known better. He should have exhibited more caution. 

Even now, with the three scouts separated from the rest of the party, Moreno's narrowed eyes hungrily sought signs of them as his anxiety threatened to burst through the hastily erected damn he'd built overnight. Usually, the weight of his armor, the solid brace of his shield, and the weapons he carries--bolstered by the strength of his faith--stave off the anxiety. Not today. His ID has been wounded by the undead as assuredly as his body had. 

Unaware of how much time has passed, Gib is relieved when they are fetched to join the scouts. Getting his companions in one place eases his stress but not his mood. Eyeing the path that Ch'dau has discovered and where it leads with a critical eye, the priest is almost comforted by the fact that there are no military maneuvers for this scenario. 

We'll need light, that's certain, he hesitantly allows his thoughts to turn towards planning their entry into the dark cavern. Running a mental inventory, Gib grimly realizes that he is woefully under-equipped for a subterranean crawl.

"Are we truly ready for this?" he quietly asks as he steps up next to Aranwen. "We'll need light... I'm not even sure what precautions we should take."

I QUINTUPLE DOG DARE you to have a post up in the next two days! QUINTUPLE DOG DARE, I say!

I am offended by everyone! Equally! 

Cover all my bases?

Thank you, all.

Are we done?

Gracias!

Drugged by a lack of sleep, Moreno is shocked to find himself waking up at his usual time. Habits truly are strong, he ponders as he forces himself to repair from his slumber and organize his gear. Finishing his preparation, he moves to a secluded location near the camp and watchfully takes care of his morning business. Returning to his pack, he retrieves his scriptures and invites any who would like to join him in his devotions and services to Therassor. 

Fervent prayer and devotions are made to the Battle Lord. Moreno knows there is plenty more combat to come as Davina has stated is a possibility. Consideration is also given to the involvement of the priest of D'hurgen. The priest will consult with his Solanis counterpart on what they know of the Church of D'hurgen as well as brainstorming on the reasons behind the unlawful activities. Any of the company is welcome to join in that discussion as most of it will take place over the breaking of their night's fast. Before the party sets off, Gib addresses Davena.

"If I may ask," he begins. "when and where did you learn of this undead activity and the possible location of its center? Any knowledge that you can share now will be highly useful to us as it would appear that we have a mutual goal."

(OOC: Posted that part again because Gib was ignored...  Not on purpose, I'd imagine.)

Garn and Davena work on breakfast and preparations. Kithran stands up and flips her daggers around in each hand, admiring their weight and balance and reliability with each catch. They feel good, strong, small but effective. She sheathes them when she notices the priests finishing up, and makes her way toward them.

"Good morning, gentlemen, I was hoping you might help me identify something." She reveals the pendant and holds it out to them, "Have either of you seen anything like this before? Do you think it harbors any terrible magicks, or will summon some ungodly beast while we nap?"

Narrowing his eyes at the sight, Gib glances towards his younger counterpart before looking back to the rogue. "That's likely nothing more than the holy symbol for a priest of D'hurgen. I doubt that it's been enchanted, but Midge would be better capable of telling you that than I... or perhaps even the Lady Davena. Either way, I don't recommend carrying such a representation of evil around. Therassor will likely not appreciate it. Melt it down, cast it away, or otherwise rid yourself of it, my friend. That is my advice."

"Thank you for your counsel, my friends." Kith left them to their preparations and made her way back toward Ch'dau, pausing in her approach to listen to their leaders' conversation.

As the little woman walks away, the warrior-priest looks back to his young friend and raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. Stowing his scriptures, the bearded man hoists his shield and makes his way back to the general group.

"We will scout the area near the caves, look for signs of travel," Garn explains in curt tones. "That will give us ideas for the best route to approach, perhaps helps us estimate numbers and the like. I have no desire to walk into some underground fortress unawares."

“Nor do I, rrow’ka,” the Kazari chuffs, not bothering, at first, to look up from the stone he is grinding purposefully over the edge of his worn falcata. He spits on the blade’s edge, then, and, running a thumb over the keen edge, at last, looks up from his work, fixing the big human with an even eye, “If you intend to scout, I would offer my assistance.”

"I as well," Kith included, plastering a scowl on her face to deflect from any discomfort she may have shown off before.

Davena nods. "This sounds reasonable." She then looks around the campfire. "So, will you be joining us?" she asks.

Aranwen nods, "This is certainly not something we can afford to ignore," She gives a warm smile to Davena, "And if anything, I welcome the opportunity to repay the aid lent by you both."

"Normally, for scouting, I'd suggest we cover more ground to quicker understand our adversary," She muses, "But given recent experiences, we place ourselves in greater danger splitting up, even should we keep to groups of two or three. They lose nothing throwing the dead at us should we give them the opportunity, while we stand to lose far more. Naturally, staying together has its drawbacks as well. Those lighter on foot can't make good on their agility, and we're easier to spot. So I feel a blend of the two is more appropriate here—Gib, Cedric, Midge and I will be part of the supporting guard, while Kithran and Ch'dau as the advance lend their eyes to scout and examine the nearby area. We travel together, close enough so the advance can comfortably fall back to the support should they encounter anything, or should anything encounter the support.

"Any questions, observations, or suggestions?"

"I like this plan, Aranwen. I don't mind going ahead alone, as odd as that may seem after last night, but it will be nice to have another, much larger target near me should we become attacked again. I am ready when the rest are."

Moreno shakes his head and presses his lips together tightly, frowning. They've barely survived the encounters they've had with the undead minions of D'hurgen; he finds himself seeing the faces of his friends on the corpses of the dead, the stench of the burning bodies from the night before still lingers in his nostrils. Aranwen has no need of his council, it was flawed the night before when he'd suggested sending Kith to her death... he must reconsider his value. Therassor, give me strength.

Ch’dau’s gaze ticks to Aranwen, first, then to Gib and, given their sanction, the Silver Cat adds his own. Nodding as he returns his blade to its sheath and gets to his feet, he swallows the last of his morning meal.

“Let us be to it, then,” he rumbles, his blue-green eyes settling meaningfully on Garn, “Daylight is short enough, here, and the depths of a cave are all the less friendly in the night. I would see this done soon, Khr’a willing and Rrowl at our side.”

So... I've been a bit busy of late and just read the posts since my last post. I was confused as hell with the retcon name change. So confused...

Now I am not confused.

Well, family activities kept either of us from posting during that period. Our illustrious GM is back to his work schedule. I'll see if I can't coax an update out of him.

Yup. Dead. Not enough interest, which is too bad as I had some really cool ideas. 

He could always join them... He's the mouth, the negotiator, etc. after all.

I can totally see it... Khan.

I like your pep talks.

I like the post, Ody, but I think we're hatch to hatch so there wouldn't be any moving across the hull.

"Take us in, Alex," Wyatt critically eyes their destination. "Belly up."

Swiveling his chair about, the captain addresses the rest of his team. "Once we're in, Pops, Wolf, and Fox, head t' the engine room an' get life support and pow'r back online. The rest of us'll sweep the ship. Keep talkin' so we know what's what an' that everyone's good. Y'all got yer comms? Good. Let's do this quick n' clean an' keep yer heads on a swivel."

(OOC: Once Alex has latched the shuttle onto the Demeter...)

"Okay, people," Wyatt rises up from his seat and takes up his EV suit's helmet. "Suit up."

Sealing his helmet to the suit, Sung activates the air supply and checks the display on his left forearm to verify it is working. Tasting the sour oxygen that pours into his helmet, he waits until everyone is equally secured and then gives the order to depressurize the shuttle.

"Time t' do some work," he states, motioning for Wolf to get working on the door.

I am usually against splitting the party on principle but in this case, time is of the essence and I figured Wyatt would think this is the best way to address the issue of life support and power while seeing what's what.

I like the idea of zeroing out the shuttle. Good thinking. The Captain awards 100 Whose Line Is It Anyways points.

So, this is what I'm thinking: 

1. Belly up


2. Zero Out


3. Gain Entrance


4. Once Inside...
   
   
   
   1. Tech Group heads to the Engine Room to restore life support and get everything that they can back online. (Wolf, Pops, and Fox)
   
   
   2. The Cool Kids (Wyatt, Alaxis, and Alex) will begin searching through the ship one room at a time.
   
   
   
   

Any concerns?

All right. The game has been updated. This is what I need along with your posts.

1. The group going into the alley; marching order along with any skill check results you're going to put into play as you reach the entrance of the alley. I also want to know what NuCybe you have active and weapons in hand (if any).


2. I need initial defensive and offensive actions... just in case.


3. The following characters have an audio link to Blossom and thus to each other on this list since she can act as a hub:
   
   
   
   1. Blossom (Obvs, duh.)
   
   
   2. Charlie
   
   
   
   


4. The following characters have visual link to Blossom and have received pictures of your mark as well as a few mugshots of the Dead Dogs.
   
   
   
   1. Blossom (ha ha!)
   
   
   2. Bloodbank
   
   
   3. Ghlahn
   
   
   
   

X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, 12th Alley | Night City Integrate | Undercity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 9:02 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Crossing the street, Ghlahn passes in front of the CPA’s office. Foot traffic is picking up. The sidewalk is about 70% congested with people making their way east. People dressed in their best clothes, hair combed, cybernetics polished. That’s going to make climbing the fire escape unnoticed nigh unto impossible. Keep going? Try to find another way up the outside of the building? Or see if there’s a way into one of the businesses along 12th Street, maybe find a way upstairs and then out onto the escape?

Making a quick decision, the stocking-capped solo stops and looks about attempting his best act at getting his bearings. Shaking his head and affecting a chagrined expression, he swivels about and strides around the corner where he proceeds down 12th street. Neon signs play within the cheap holographic projections like worms inflicting a victim.

The CPA’s office on the corner—Black & Gesault—is closed. Frontline Apparel with its caged windows spitting out holographic models walking a couple of steps into the sidewalk, spinning about, and then vanishing back into the protected glass is open. That store will likely be filled with autofactories ready to print the selected clothing. It may even be devoid of a clerk… 

Further down the street, the only other shop that appears to be open is Superfix Appliance Sales & Repair. With it being a repair store, there are likely people within. Glancing to his right, Ghlahn spots the air jeep parked in front of the Greek place. The Sunday morning traffic is starting to thin out a bit—maybe Church is in session—which helps, but dealing with no people is way better than the alternative, so the Cee-metal cyborg ducks into Frontline Apparel, shifting his bag so that it sits more behind him on his butt as he goes.

Stark white overheads glare at him. Not quite bright enough to cause concern, they are an unwelcome change from the gloom outside. Pausing just inside the door, Ghlahn takes in his new surroundings with a practiced eye. As he had suspected, the shop is unmanned but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t security. Experience states that even in the Undercity a shop owner will fork out the creds to protect their assets. In this case, with no clerk to manage the store and deal with potential vandals (merchandise is safe since it isn’t available until the creds are paid and the machines print the job), it’s a safe bet that there’s some kind of AI. 

Utilitarian meets industrial with a splash of urban decay, the shop is a deep rectangle accented by two sets of rust-colored metal pylons on either wall rising up to the bare metal rafters. The floor is black and white ceramic tile patterned to look like marble. Sitting in front of each wall are autofactory booths, six in total, three on each side. An individual walks into the booth, closes the curtain, inserts their cred chip or authorizes a pending transfer, is scanned for measurements, and then is presented with their design options. After making the selection, the autofactory begins printing. Within five minutes, the customer is walking out the door with their new article of clothing. 

But it isn’t the autofactories that Ghlahn is looking for. His gaze settles on a back door, olive green in color, obviously metal with a few small dents and a number of scratches marring its surface. The area around the dull steel handle is stained with dirty smudges and the “Employees Only” sticker has seen better days. The lock requires a keycard. It appears to the cyborg sniper that its a scanner device. There’s a possibility that through that door, there’s another door with access to a utility hall. From there, he might be able to get more of a bird’s eye view of 12th street.

Considering his options, the red-headed soldier wonders what kind of security he’s going to have to face down to get access. Glancing back over his shoulder, he stares at the alley across the street. The window provides a view at an angle, if straight out of the shop is twelve o’clock, the alley is at about ten o’clock. From street level, his view could be obstructed by passing vehicles or pedestrians.

Looking back towards the door, Ghlahn knows it’s time to make a decision.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 09:10 AM PST)

------------

Fixer watches as Glahn moves to find a spot to provide cover. Somehow it doesn’t make him any more comfortable but they need it. The plan is for the others to sit at the diner or some other, similar location, and the remainder of the group would go into the alley. He suspects he is in that latter group. He peers down towards the alley to see if there is any visible security. There might be something he can co-op if it exists. He just doubts it exists. 

Keen eyes augmented by NuCybe that allows him to zoom in on the area of interest confirm his original thought. Nothing visible as far as security goes on the outer entrance to the alley. Even adjusting to the nearby buildings and looking for security cameras that might cover the alley results in a clear path. As the Jeep pulls up in front of the diner, he keeps his eyes open for possibilities. If he finds something he can suggest looking for a way to access the cameras but time probably makes it a bad option anyway. Time is not on their side.  

Finishing his assessment—at least from their current position—he is ready to go. "Ok, We goin' in? Not much sense waitin' any longer."

Mr. Charlie agrees with a nod, "Anybody and everybody, get out. Me and Bloss will have to find a place to wait. Looks like you’re on your own for now. If you can make it to this point here then I'll make sure that the package is picked up and I’ll buy the first round of Abydos. Deal?"  

Charlie parks the Jeep and waits for it to settle to the ground as he looks past Casino and into the restaurant. Grandma Dee’s Diner is no less packed than it was five-minutes ago.

Casino is the first to get out. Quickly scanning the area around them, he sees no immediate threat. He’s not green, however. Just because he spots nothing does not mean it is not hidden, waiting to put hot lead through his skull. Hand on the grip of his SMG, thumb close to the safety, he waits on the rest of the group. He can only hope Vegas does not suffer from the delay.

Echo easily rolls out of her seat and splooshes onto the pavement, shoulders squared, head on a swivel, hand cradling her precious SMG.

Bloodbank draws in a deep, filtered breath and follows the nomad onto the crowded sidewalk. Taking in the Sunday dining crowd, he sets his jaw against the disdainful looks thrown his way by some of the people.

Fixer is the last to exit. As the misty rain dusts his exposed face, the Techie takes a quick look around before satisfying his concerns about their immediate safety. 

“Standing room only,” Echo mutters to Cred Stick Charlie. “Looks like you’ll need another roost.”

"Greek Dan's Hero Shop for now? Maybe they have seats?" Suggests Charlie to Blossom.

“Greek at this time of day?” the netrunner scowls, then blanches. “Greek at any time of day is gross, but in the morning? Fine… whatever.”

The fixer pulls back on the lift control causing the aerodyne to throw dirty water out from underneath it in a 365° radius that catches the edgers about the thighs and waists. A mass shift of by-standers moving towards the walls of the building is accompanied by angry glares and various cultural signs of affront. 

“Let’s go,” Echo responds quietly, already beginning to make her way towards the alleyway.

“Anyone want to check and see if Ghlahn is in position?” Bloodbank asks, grateful that he doesn’t have the walkie and still feeling guilty about his previous faux pas. 

(OOC: Remember who has walkies&hellip

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 09:05 AM PST)

------------

Pulling back into the sparse traffic on 12th, Charlie looks for a parking spot in front of the Greek sandwich shop and is rewarded right away with a place between a discolored plastic economy city car and a junker economy version with missing windows and multiple spray painted tags covering its body. Parallel parking, he pushes the lift controls into landing mode and waits for the vehicle to settle as the rest of the team walks past and continues on towards their destination.

“There’re a lot of agents with public access nearby,” Blossom reads the HUD display before her eyes. “Can’t tell who they belong to. Won’t risk pissing some retired street samurai off by playing Russian Roulette. So, Greek it is.”

Shifting to the other side of the vehicle, the slight Asian girl extracts herself from the vehicle and retrieves her bag. Waiting on Charlie, she peers in the window of their intended destination, past the wax crayon advert art covering the windows with their low-tech displays.

“Sh*t,” she curses around the sucker protruding from her pouty lips. “The place is closed.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 09:05 AM PST)

I responded to your pm. 

Ew.

Insight into the Mind of Eol Fefalas is a rare thing.

"Tickets for sale! Tickets sold here!"

SilentOne, I hope things were resolved positively for you.

I'm looking forward to the game moving forward but appreciated the lull as I was hit by a thunderstorm of chaos this past couple of weeks as well.

Huzzah! 

The Inn is really quiet lately.

*Nods excitedly.*