Take a laptop and access RDINN _AND_ a sketchbook.

Down with RL interference! Thanks for the kind words, y'all. I'm glad you enjoyed the sketch. Looking forward to Ali's and Robert's versions.

Silent Sam!? Wha.............?

Had some time this evening. 

My post is due to T_catt11 answering a PM question about Gib's knowledge undead proficiency and what he would know of the attackers. T_catt11, fondly known as Olan so I don't need to keep referring to his username) told me that at 3rd level, Gib would know about zombies. So, I looked them up in the Monster Manual, checked on their immunities and made the assumption of what kind of spells he might have seen the wizards cast over their past while together so that he could offer an educated but of advice.

That's the long answer to: Naw. No additional reading needed.

Well done!

Nice work, Jozan!

I welcome whichever way you prefer. I recap everything so my character is engaging with everything. I also run a number of games here and as the GM, such posts help me know when the player sees their character's action taking place in the scheme of things. Mind you, I do so with the full knowledge that the GM has free reign to correct my timing, interrupt my telling, or even parts of my writing because it doesn't fit, actions of others make it unlikely that my posted actions would go down as they have, etc. It also allows my character to engage and respond to other characters in a not-so-free-flowing game environ.

Hear, hear! 

FYI - Olan, here's Gib's battle plan (and most likely, the plan won't go as "planned").

First, I need to lay out the spells Gib has prepared... seeing how the 3.5 doesn't directly translate to the 2 as I have it on the sheet I sent you.

1st level (Gib can have 5): Bless | Cure Light Wounds x 3 | Protection From Evil

2nd level (Gib can have 5): Chant | Hold Person x 3 | Spiritual Hammer

3rd level (Gib can have 2): Create Food & Water | Prayer

• Offense:
  
  
  
  • Gib will start off with an attempt to Turn Undead. The holy symbol in the crossbar of his sword should suffice, right? If he has to sheathe his weapon to perform the attempt, then scrap this idea.
  
  
  • It is too late to use Bless due to the fighters rushing off willy-nilly, so it looks like the best next move is Prayer.
  
  
  • Next, Gib will attempt to get into a position where he can support the manuevers of Aranwen. Gib figures that Ch'dau fights in an not-so-customary way and even though the Sylvari is a bladesinger, Gib can potentially use his formation fighting experience to flank or drive enemies into disadvantages. In this case, he's using his sword and shield.
  
  
  
  


• Defense: Should a retreat become necessary, or should there be a situation where Gib can provide protection for a fallen foe, he'll focus primarily on his shield to gain the defensive bonus. 
  
  
  
  • If there are wounded in such a situation, Gib will put himself between the wounded and the enemy, using his shield like as much of a wall as possible and striking out with his sword should the opportunity arise without losing the defensive bonus.
  
  
  • Gib will not attempt a prayer for healing until the battle is over... Therassor deserves revered prayer to deliver a miracle healing.
  
  
  
  

Also, Gib isn't forgetting Kith, he just isn't keen on her method of attacking and is unfamiliar with it, so he wouldn't feel it right to offer her suggestions.

Yucky...

Ack! Hairball!

Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 1:38 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph 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)

Drawing near the destination, Vegas orders the AI driver to drive around the block. Peering through the rain-slick windows, the solo observes the street and the traffic thereupon. No exterior security that I can see, the crooner observes. But he’s never been the keenest eye so he turns to his companions.

“See any sign of security out there?” he asks with a nod of his head to the outside.

“The offices we’re looking for take up three floors,” Blossom explains, coming out of her virtual world. “I couldn’t find the actual floor plans for the place but I was able to get a directory. The floor we’re looking for is the eighth.”

“Twenty-three-thirty-and-some-odd-minutes…” the medtech chimes in with little humor to his voice. “I doubt that the building is open at this time.”

“I agree,” Vegas acknowledges. “We need to get up close. Ghlahn, you need to find yourself a perch that will provide proper support for those going in. We also need to find out what else is in the building. What’s on the main floor? How can we gain entrance? Ideas?”

“There’s a garage, if that helps,” Blossom pipes up around her lollipop stick.

Not waiting on the others, Fixer jumps out and says quickly, "I want to scout for some security systems. See what is out there." He takes off quickly into the darkness and looks at the two sides of the building closest to him providing a 1/2 periphery of the structures.

Exiting the tight van to stretch cramped muscles, Casino quietly listens in on the sounds around them and on the various idea’s being discussed, watching through his new combat mask as his teammate strolls off. Vegas follows him into the rain and the broad-shouldered solo picks up his partner’s uttered curse, but just barely.

“Brother,” the dapper solo places a hand on Casino’s soaked leather-covered shoulder—not the wounded arm, thank goodness, though the blonde gunman’s Pain Editor is still functioning. “Call me paranoid, but would you mind keepin’ an eye on that fella?” he dips his head towards Fixer’s retreating back causing the collected water on his fedora’s brim to cascade before his iconic fae. “No knowing what kind of trouble might be lurking about.” (OOC: Going to assume Casino has no problem with the task.)

Ghlahn is once more to provide overwatch. In the old days they called individuals like him "arch-angels" as they protected others from on high.

"Come on Bloodbank, let’s find a nice overwatch spot." the Cee-metal sniper invites, ignoring the techie’s actions and focusing on his own task.. Having another along complicates things a bit but it is the only way to keep Bloodbank away from the thefts that are likely going to occur to cover the incursion.

“I’ll take this side,” Echo drops from the interior of the van to the gutter causing dirty rainwater to splash up around the top of her knee-high boots. Motioning towards the opposite way the techie and Casino just hastened, the nomad shoulders her bag and rifle and then strides off to make her way around the block.

Blossom makes a slurping sounds producing the lollipop from her mouth and steps daintally to the curb, slinging her large duffle over her small shoulder as she does so. “Guess that leaves you an’ me, canary,” she smiles broadly at the crooner.

“As much as I’d enjoy a dalliance with a tomato such as yourself—” Vegas winks and grins his signature lopsided smile. “And believe you me, I would very much enjoy such an encounter—I’m afraid we’ve work to do.” Motioning toward a covered storefront in the adjacent building, he offers his arm. “Care to join me?”

Peering pointedly through her heart-shaped sunglasses at the offered gallantry, the netrunner raises her eyebrows incredulously. “I ain’t no wrinkled skin bag needing to be helped across the street, gato. Let’s go.”

The techie doesn’t stand and stare but moves along at a normal rate while Casino catches up. Fixer is looking for any action and any information as he scans the street level of the structure. As is the case with most of the buildings within the Night City Integrate, this tower is a continuation of the construct from the lower levels of the city maze and it continues up and up into the upper zone. It rises up high enough that the next full-fledged street level blocks his view of anything further.

Made of dingy gray New-crete, stained by the rodent and pigeon population, weather, and street gang tags, it was once a grand edifice to the construction AI’s brilliance. The software controlling the nanobuilders had decided on the Streamline Moderne architectural style which means a lot of long horizontal lines and curves. The building takes up the whole of the block with various alcoves and protrusions helping to break apart the monotony of form. Fixer manually guesses a distance between two rounded cement columns that cut right up the face of the building in front of him. Them, proceeding on course, he uses his optic splice to quickly calculate the total distance of the block. Two-hundred-and-seventy-four meters. Knowing the city layout as he does—as any of the edgerunners do—the techie is able to conclude that the side of the building facing the group is the long side.

Each of the cement pillars juts out from the otherwise smooth face by less than one meter and between each pillar stretches a good ten meters of rain-slicked navy-colored glass paneling. Just above the navy-colored glass sits another row of clear glass which at this point is mostly reflecting the neon and holographic signs from across the street and is proving difficult to peer through. There are two general entrances to the structure on this side spaced so that they are each in the middle of one half of the building. Designed as alcoves with very rounded corners leading into them on each side, metal grids act as canopies offering little to no protection from the elements. Three and a half meter tall double doors are set side-by-side in each of these entrances making for a total of eight doorwards. Made of the clear glass framed by rustic steel metal, the halls behind these doors are lit with soft yellow interior lighting revealing dull charcoal gray carpeting and wide spaces furnished with stylized simplistic furniture. Placed on either side of the initial entrance are very easy to see and recognize holographic emitters. Likely producing genial directory AIs once a person approaches, they are currently inactive.

Having successfully navigated the small but steady stream of humanity, delivery drones, and service bots to the end of the block, and having seen not a hint of visible security measures for the building, Fixer glances at Casino and flips around to move back to his group with a shrug of his shoulders as if forgetting something.

Alone with her task, Echo makes her way to the opposite corner of their target structure, her sharp brown eyes staring out above the brick red balaclava wrapped about her lower face and head intent in their search. Arriving at the steeply rounded corner, the nomad takes it casually and works her way into the alley that is just wide enough for a trash truck to traverse in one direction without tearing off their side mirrors.

Gusts of wind tease the corners of sodden bags, strewn ripsheets, and howl in the mouths of discarded glass bottles. The rain is lighter here, broken apart by the ample amount of protruding edifices from the two towering structures on either side. Growling gives her pause, but just for a moment as the creature delivering the warning is a small, wire-haired terrier that looks ridden with disease. Backing away from her advance, the poor creature swings about and darts further ahead.

Here, the building is only two-hundred-and-fifty to two-seventy-five meters end to end. Still climbing well into areas beyond her vision, there’s no visible end to its height. Cautiously continuing her scouting, Echo passes a rounded cornered alcove similar to the street-facing entrances only with a single door instead of two double doors. Pausing with the pretense of getting something in her eye, the young woman tilts her head forward to get a better look just inside the door.

The interior light is faint, but there’s enough for her to see a small black box centered on the roof just inside the door. Is it a security camera, motion detector, glass break sensor…? She has neither the experience nor the knowledge to be able to tell. Rolling her head back, she blinks rapidly to bring her ruse to a close and is greeted by the lower platform of a fire escape some seven meters overhead, its ladder is lifted and locked out of the way making the bottom rung parallel with the platform. Continuing forward, she turns about and walks backwards once she’s out of the way of the door and registers that the system climbs up at least fifteen stories before it’s end.

Achieving the end of the alley, Echo glances to her right and then left before stepping out onto the adjacent street. Plenty of late night traffic on the ground including cars, drones, and people but nothing threatening. An equally busy sky as drone traffic whizzes past below the aeroodyne level.

Hanging a left, Echo makes her way down the same direction as Fixer and Casino had gone but on the opposite side of the building, committing what she passes to memory. Rounding the far end, she does the same thing for that side of the street and then rounds the final corner bringing her on a trajectory to rejoin her team.

M’haru Ghlahn leads the way, though Bloodbank is only a step behind and to the side. City streets are full of possibilities no matter what a person is looking for and it isn’t long before a prime overwatch position is spotted. Two blocks north of the team’s location is a covered parking structure. Seven stories high, the top of the drab gray cement—tagged, and tagged, and tagged, and tagged again—melds right into an American Square styled structure that continues to climb another twenty or thirty stories before rounding itself off with a dome. The upper story of the garage should be relatively easy to access even with the medtech tagging along and it should provide decent cover for the team at the front of the target building.

The pair are forced to make their way down the street the same direction and on the same side as Echo, at first. Finding an opportunity to cross when a lull in traffic occurs, they jog through the tumbling water of the gutter and trot onto the sidewalk in front of a hunched woman who is obviously off her rocker as she’s mopping the sidewalk in front of a fast food dispensary and humming happily through her rib-breaking coughing.

Above the sounds of the street, the symphony of engines, tellurian presence, and the storm, Ghlahn picks up what initially sounds like a fervent bellowing; the words of which are indiscernible until he draws closer to the garage.

The entrance is, of course, manned by security, but the Cee-metal soldier is counting on there being a way in from the side alley, or at least a position from which he can fenagle his ascent. But, there’s a problem with that plan that emerges just as the two edgerunners pass in front of the alleyway entrance.

“There ain’t no way we’re gonna let them bring that filth into our communities!”

“No way!” A cacophony of excited voices follow the declaration and the edgers find themselves being pressed into a crowd of rainswept citizens swilling about like water circling the drain.

Standing atop some article that places him head and shoulders above the crowd is a man of caucasian coloring with a shaved head that’s tattooed with various symbols reminiscent of the Nazi movement. Clenched fist held high over his shiny head, optic splices lit up, he sweeps his hand over the crowd and bellows, “We have a right to sleep well, secure in our freedom to defend America!”

“Ya!”

“They can’t take that from us!”

“Down with those towel-headed b*****s!”

“Get ‘em out!”

“Are you gonna let them sit up there to plot their next attack?”

“Hell no!”

“Burn ‘em!”

“We’ll stop ‘em!”

Forced to slow their gait due to the swaying throng of bodies, Ghlahn and Bloodbank find themselves quickly being enveloped by the crowd, their vision of even the entrance to the garage blocked by shaking fists, yelling faces, and jostling shoulders.

Once all by Glhahn and Bloodbank are back together again huddled beneath the awning that Vegas and Blossom had commandeered, the crooner speaks up.

“Ok, everyone, let’s have it,” he presses his hands together and rubs for a moment to massage some life back into his fingertips before shoving his digits into his dripping overcoat pockets.

(OOC: He’ll get a report from each of you by looking to you in turn&hellip

“There’s a number of public hotspots available and I’ve found external IPs for net service,” Blossom explains what she has been doing while the others were searching the building’s parameter. “The IPs are all ghosted, so I can’t tell which belongs to which entity, and I don’t imagine any of them are hooked up to their intranets. I was able to discover a heavy datafeed, and I mean heavy. Were I to guess, I’d say that it belongs to a security entity and a powerhouse one at that. Probably a couple of wardrivers on staff to man constructs and digital defenses for whatever company they work for.”

“Long and short of it, folks,” Vegas adds with raised eyebrows, “we’re gonna have to get inside just as we had thought. Ideas on how we do that? Way I see it is that we’ve gotta break into the street level and deal with whatever security they have there, then work our way to the eighth floor and do it all over again.”

“Other businesses within this complex are…” Blossom pauses while her deck brings up the data within her optic splice. “...on the street level; sporting goods, hobby—um, leatherworking—fuel cell retailer, costume store, cosmetic surgery, dentistry, a pharmacy, a steakhouse, a law office, a coffee shop, and a psychic.

“The eighth floor has Upstairs Downstairs, a theater, a kitchen and bathroom display room, a vet, a VR arcade, a consignment shop, a female clothing retailer, a smoke shop, and a laundromat.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 02:03 AM PST)

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

Edgerunner Enclave | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday), 11:36 P.M. PM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph 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)

Where art thou driver? For Luther, once the rest of the party leaves, it is a quick check on the Giri board looking for a reply to his post for trade. The fellow, Fluke, that the fixer had initially been in contact with concerning the air jeep had left another post confirming delivery and terms. The air jeep is to be picked up and it is hours away. Luther “Cred-Stick Charlie” is very aware that he needs sleep but is determined to start a few hours into his new study of the Chinese Language before his first day of class with the children come Monday morning. He’s rolling up on Sunday rather quickly (about twenty-minutes off until midnight) and he needs to find a place to stay. His agent signals with a chime and Luther responds with a tap to its screen.

"Dígame," he commands in Spanish, delivering the order for the person on the other line—Hui according to the contact information displayed through his optic splice—to talk to me.

"Hello?" his newly appointed assistant asks in confusion.

"Hey, Hui, what’s happening, little lady?" Luther clarifies, eyes darting about as some of the tents are being closed for the night and the bustle of activity in the courtyard increases.

"I’m at your place. You don’t have a lot for the space that you occupy," the Chinese woman accuses. “Where should I put my things?”

Luther rubs the back of his head for a second, "Aw, yeah... I'm still working on what decor I should use. Uh… I got an office—"

"Awh ha, I see,” Hui interrupts, “Well, I will make myself at home. Your place is a bit of a shambles, but I’ll see it is cleaned."

"Wow…," Charlie exclaims in appreciation. Maid service is included in this arrangement, apparently.

Hui giggles, "It will be once I’m through with it."

" Awhhhh, you got jokes for me I see, Hui."

"I thought that you would like something to make you laugh or smile after dealing with your associates earlier."

Luther smiles, "I may head over and get some sleep."

"Yes, and you might find a small gift waiting for you. You do know what that means, right? Because, I know that you’re not going to mess this nice job up for me, right, Mr Charlie?"

"Awhhh... I was just getting to that part in the—"

"Well, you better start to read when you get home. You have a lot to learn," Hui interrupts again using a chastising tone.

"See you soon, Hui " Luther remarks before hanging up the agent.

Activating the cab-hailing app, he pulls his overcoat about him and reclaims his drone case from the wet ground near his feet. The ride back to his apartment would take over two hours if he were using a ground car service, but his default setting is for an AV so it will be more like a half hour from when he is picked up. Despite the AV’s versatility, it isn’t going to be able to land in the courtyard, so Cred Stick Charlie makes his way back to the enclave gate, through it, and onto the swarming street of the Mid-City Urbanzone.

Waiting for the AV to arrive, Luther kills time by producing his agent once more and going about his work maintaining his business. A countdown display in the peripheral of his left optic keeps him notified of the taxi’s time of arrival. With about a minute remaining until his ride appears, his agent’s call notification lights up… the contact information running in front of his right eye belongs to Starlight.

(OOC: I’m assuming Luther answers the call…”

“What’s the 411?” his boss sounds tired but alert.

(OOC: Luther’s answer.)

“You’re not with them?” Starlight sounds a little surprised. “You trust that they’ll get this job done without any further mishaps needing your oversight?”

(OOC: Luther’s answer.)

“Listen, Charlie,” the tiny fixer remarks dryly. “I think Santa may be bringing on another team. It’s been two—going on three—days since the contract was inked and Santa is growing impatient. I want you on-site helping to see this thing through. Understand?”

(OOC: Luther’s answer. Assuming compliance.)

“Good. Now, this business with the Chinese—Ya, I know about it—Jack doesn’t like it,” Starlight is referring to her superior in the organization, Springed-Heel Jack. “He says you’re cutting in on the Tong’s dance partner and they’re likely gonna strike back. How deep are you into this? Can you get out?”

(OOC: Luther’s answer… and I’ll leave it off here so we can play this out further.)

(OOC: March 8th, Day 2 - Saturday, Time is 11:53 PM PST)

Here's a map of Cred Stick Charlie's current apartment. I've also added it to the first page of the Q&A thread for future ease of reference. I have also updated the game. Some things to note:

1. I run the NPCs, so please do not post actions from NPCs, conversations, etc. Especially not when the actions or conversations benefit the character/group in ways I haven't authorized.


2. Don't get too far ahead and make assumptions. You'll do a lot of writing and I'll do a lot of deleting. It's a pain in the butt for all of us.


3. Pay attention to time stamps and location.


4. Put some flavor in your writing... character thoughts, senses, etc.


5. Use your character's skills. Go to roll20.net and roll leaving a note as to what you're trying to do. I'll reference the roll and determine the actual result. If you let me know you've done so I'll review the roll and let you know the result so you can add it to your post.


6. If you have goals for your character, feel free to share them with me. We can work them into the character play and it helps flesh out your character and the world you're playing in.


7. Feel free to work things out on this board before moving them to your character posts. Collaborate.

Inn-deed! Welcome, Oz and Atharis the Meek.

I'm trudging. Or maybe I'm sloshing, Gib considers the proper way to describe his actions. Swimming. I could be... I certainly feel like it. Damnable weather. 

Glancing past the edge of his open face helmet as he moves to peer over his damp right shoulder. Stepping almost sideways, the priest of Therasor jealously considers his feline companion who is walking towards the rear unburdened by swampy armor. 

"Whoa!" His boot heel slips forward in the mud drawing his left leg further out than expected and forcing an uncharacteristically clumsy recovery. Shrugging his shield strap into a more comfortable position, Gib clenches his teeth in frustration and turns his eyes back towards the murky future.

Aranwen has been casually leading the way since the group had broke camp shortly after dawn. Enough days have passed since the glorious eradication of the bandits that their wounds have healed and the healer is grateful that the crazy mist with its ability to make shadows dance has done them the courtesy of waiting to show up until this morning. The dry heat they had been experiencing was instrumental in helping their wounds heal clean. Gib isn't sure they would have been so lucky with the weather they now face.

"By the Blood," he growls for what seems to him to be the fiftieth time that day. "One of these puddles might be deep enough to swallow you whole, Midge. Watch yourself."

Humor in the face of unease. It's a soldier's coping mechanism and one that the priest picked up by serving in the Ertainian army. Comfortable enough with his companions that he doesn't spare them from his humor and this mist is giving him plenty of reason to call upon that soldiering trick.

Slapping a stinging insect that lands on his exposed cheekbone, Gib sighs and returns to his sullen trudging/sloshing/swimming. He's not sure of how much time has passed when the Sylvari calls for them to pull up. 

Focusing in the direction that Aranwen is facing, the priest squints through the gloom and spots the slow-moving crowd. Sensing more than seeing Kithran move off to the side, Gib can't deny the feeling of unease born by the fog seeping into his very bones.

Rolling his shield from his shoulder and back, the Ertainian slips his left hand and forearm through the straps. "What thoughts have you, Aranwen? Trouble?" 

Sylvari have better sight than humans--something the swordswoman had proven in their recent past--and Gib is relying on the woman's abilities now.

Gib is happy to be towards the front of the group. Now, any voting on group leadership would have Gib naturally leaning towards a fighting class (he does come from a military background) and since our mascot cat will likely not make a good first impression with most, the Priest of Therasor would vote for the Sylvari Bladesinger. Gib views himself as more of an advisor and wouldn't put his hat in the command circle unless forced. 

By way of keeping everyone updated...

I am working on a post to update the game. It's a doozie. A lot going on and a lot of detail needed, so bear with me.

SAM! Sam! Sam. Hey! Sam?

TOCHI!!! Hey! Tochi!

I hereby bestow the right of 1.5 Innmates on SilentOne. Huzzah and Harrum and all that.

Welcome to the Inn those who are fresh-faced within! I'm looking forward to the engagement.

Eol... Gib really wants to do both!

With a dad who bears the name Olan the Player Character Killer (we whisper the name where he can't hear... kinda like Volde—He Who Shall Not Be Named), it's no wonder you have characters running from bunnies.

Chainmail gauntlets... let the petting proceed!

Love the rogue concept! Can't wait to see the others. Two clerics is a different kind of party than I'm used to, but I bet we'll need the healing power. Do they venerate different gods? That could be interesting as well.