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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Back at the Reception | Asovil receives the lunch invitation | Captain's Mast


Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:16





"What about the weapons compliment?" D'Lar presses. "When we were first introduced to the two vessels upon which our delegation and ourselves now journey, we were informed that the USS Coronado doesn't carry quite the load out that the USS Peregrine carries and yet, the USS Coronado is a much larger ship."


The blue-skinned beauty's antennae lean forward and she unconsciously chews on the inside of her bottom lip. Such questions were usually considered rude within the Andorian culture, but she is unsure as to Terran's, or, for that matter, Kuldaran's and Rhytanians. Tread carefully, Mr. McTavish, she internally cautions.


Haemis smiles warmly, "Ah, everyone want's to know about the guns! Ye see we might be wee compared to the Coronado but the Peregrine is a sight newer." He take a moment to drink. "I canna really go into specifics about our defensive systems, you understand. Security'n all. What I can tell ye is ye have no fear, we can hold our own in a fight," he said in a reassuring tone. "I can tell ya even for a small ship, she's got ample appointments. You don't often find guest quarters for instance on a vessel of this size." He takes another drink. "Ah, and state of the art Holosuites. They may be a sight small but they make up for it in the technology put into them."


Asovil regards the two ambassadors in an attempt to read their expressions. Not being familiar with the species, she finally concludes that she doesn't have enough data to correctly surmise anything and is brought back from her analysis by the engineer's accented continuance.


"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of seeing yer vessels yet?" Haemis' smile broadens. "I bet they are incredibly facinatin'." he looks up for a moment. "I remember the first time I got my hands on a Klingon Bird of Prey, now that was a challenge. I don't much care for how simple they engineer but they are very functional and efficient. Not to mention one of those..." he pauses, realizing he's starting to ramble. "My apologizes. Ye get me started on engineering and I might go all night."


"Our ships," D'Lar chuffs. "They are nothing compared to even this, smaller vessel of Starfleet's. Now, if we had a few of these in our fleet; well, let's just say that these peace talks wouldn't be about to take place." The scaly-skinned fellow chuckles at his own comment and places a hand on Threel's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Of course, the same could be said if his people had a few of these and we didn't."


"I suppose we should be grateful that neither of our peoples have had access to these war machines," the Rytainian dignitary says sourly through a weak smile as he endures his counterpart's touch. "You did mention, Lieutenant McTavish, that the Peregrine's cruising speed is warp seven. What would be her maximum speed?"



Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Chief Science Officer's Office - 09:10





Finalizing a series of computer-aided algorithms designed to reconfigure the containment parameters for the dark matter collector engine, Asovil cranes her neck to the right and then the left eliciting a small popping within the vertebrae and relieving some of the stress that has built up there over the past number of minutes. Turning to her linked PADD, she drags the contents of her personal computer over to the PADD screen with a swipe of her right hand and rises from her desk. Punching in the commands to implement the new algorithms into the simulation program, the Andorian woman begins to pace. Resulting data scrolls across the handheld screen igniting the analytical side to her brain as she processes the information. Failed containment, the first results conclude. The first variant algorithm is entered and the simulation begins to play through once more. Failed containment, the second results conclude. With a resigned shake of her head, Lt. Sh'iraolnas enters the command for the third variant to be tested.


Sighing mightily, Asovil drops back into her chair and unceremoniously sets the PADD on the desk before her as the third results come back negative. Chewing on her bottom lip, the blue-skinned beauty considers the possibilities for failure. My math could be wrong, she posits. The power levels in the collector's generator could be too low. But, the collector is collecting, it's only after the matter is building up that the containment ruptures. So, it has to be something within the containment configuration. Perhaps a level three containment field isn't enough to hold the matter? But it's enough to contain a warp core breach, White fingernails click repetitively on the smooth desk surface as the thoughts continue their procession through her mind. From within her subconscious, recognition that outstanding messages exist within her terminal and the realization breaks her chain of thought as assuredly as a physical event.


"Can't even stay focused for a few minutes," she mumbles and leans forward to bring up the messages. Scanning the list, her heart flutters at the sight of one message from Lt. Zai that she immediately brings up.


To: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
From: Lt Zai, T.
Subject: Schedule?
Good morning.


I hope your second day aboard is off to a better start than your first.


Lunch, today?


Warm regards,
Tochi


A delighted smile ascends to her full lips and then encompasses her entire being. Absently brushing some imagined strands of hair behind her right ear, the elegant scientist keys up her reply.


To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: Schedule?


I would welcome the respite and the company.


Sincerely,


Asovil


Pondering the reply, she wonders whether it is too formal resulting in his belief that she isn't interested. Then, she considers whether she ought to reply with an explanation that her mind has been on the physics behind containing dark matter with the intention of repurposing it as a never-ending supply of fuel—a permanent alternative to dilithium crystals. Discarding the latter as scientific mumbo jumbo that may be interpreted as puffing herself up, Asovil immediately returns to the possibility that her response is too formal. Returning to the message, she edits it to read:


To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: Schedule?


Good morning to you!


My day has begun well enough. My meeting with Captain Drake went as well as could be expected, and I've since been focusing on one of my own projects trying to put the drama behind me for the time being.


I appreciate your invitation—more than you know—and would thoroughly enjoy the break of a delightful lunch with you. What time, and where shall I meet you?


Sincerely,


Asovil


Regarding the new reply, the blue-skinned officer visibly blanched. "Disgusting display of pleasantries," she remarks and promptly deletes it. Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she absently brushes hair that isn't out of place behind her ear again. Simple and friendly, she decides and begins typing once more.


To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: Schedule?


Good morning to you, as well!


I appreciate you checking in on me. My day is proving to be more routine than yesterday, but would be improved by a lunch date with you, sir. What time shall I meet you, and where?


Sincerely,


Asovil


Settling back in her chair, the lieutenant junior grade begins to reread the message, but catches herself. "You'll be at this all day if you do that," she chides. All the same, it is a difficult task to force herself to be satisfied with the results and press the send option. As the message sent alert appears on her screen, the tall blue-skinned beauty feels momentarily sick to her stomach. Maybe that was too friendly,







Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Mess - 13:50





Punctuality is a foregone conclusion to the Andorian woman as it has always been. Arriving at the Captain's Mess ten-minutes early affords her the ability to assess the dispositions of those entering the room as they do so, which provides the scientist in her to develop theories on the outcome of the meeting and thus makes her more comfortable and less likely to succumb to surprise anger. Arriving this early usually means that she's the first, but in this case she is surprised to find Chief Crane already seated in a position that will place her directly across from Captain Drake. Not wishing to intrude on the woman's thoughts, Asovil quietly and gracefully pads to the end of the table furthest from the door and seats herself without ceremony.


Crane glances up and for a second the two womens' eyes lock. Sympathy isn't the blue-skinned beauty's strong point, especially when justice is being served. Had Chief Crane been looking for some sign that she has been forgiven her trespass, she finds none within the deep, near midnight blue of her department head's eyes. Eyes that remain locked on the CPO when Lauren drops her gaze back to her clasped hands on the table in front of her.


Minutes pass and more people arrive and in short order, all are present except for Captain Silas Drake. Meeting Lt. Zai's gaze, Asovil fondly recalls their lunch together and finds her cheeks darkening in color before she can mentally assert control over her blushing. Tochi has been the only good that her recent transfer has produced to date. She could but hope that it continues.


The door slides open admitting Silas, straight-backed, and of a neutral countenance, he strides into the Captain's Mess.


Taking his own seat, Drake speaks. "Since it would appear that we are all here, I see no reason to delay this. If no one has an objection, let us begin."


Asovil straightens her own back and turns her attention completely to her captain. Crane, who had become attentively rigid upon Asovil's arrival, remains so; still like a statue before the wrecking ball.


((OOC: assuming no objections))


Drake nods, "Very well. Let the record show that we are assembled here today for the purpose of conducting a non-judicial proceeding in the matter of a gross violation of the chain of command by Chief Petty Officer Lauren Crane." The Captain pauses for a moment to allow his words to sink in before fixing the Chief with his hard gaze.


"Before we continue, Chief, I would like to clarify some potential questions." Silas takes a breath. "Since you are not a commissioned officer, Chief, and further influenced by the fact that we are under weigh, I am fully within my rights as Captain of this vessel to compel you to accept this non judicial proceeding. However, I am willing to give you to option of a formal court martial, if you so desire."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas' antennae twitch with surprise. She knows full well that the captain isn't required to extend that right—knew it even before he made mention of it—and that he is doing so completely dissects her beginning theory on how the mast would proceed. Just as involuntarily as the twitching of her antennae, sapphire eyes seek some explanation of foreknowledge in Tochi's handsome face. The Trill XO is calm and serene, however, providing the Andorian woman with no additional data for her analysis. Chief Crane remains motionless, facing Drake with a solemn expression of remorse and acceptance.


The Captain glances around the table. "You should carefully consider this choice, Chief. If I find you guilty in this non-judicial proceeding, you will have no true method of recourse; you will simply be forced to accept any punishment that I choose to hand out. Such an action will almost certainly have a negative impact upon your Starfleet career. Bear in mind that, unlike in a formal legal trial, I need not be convinced of your guilt beyond a reasonable doubt; I need only decide that a preponderance of the evidence points to your guilt. At a non-judicial proceeding such as this, you are entitled to retain an advocate to help plead your case, but even though I have the utmost faith that whoever you choose to be your advocate will in fact do their best to represent your interests, the fact remains that we lack a true legal specialist aboard the Peregrine, and certainly do not have anyone truly trained to defend breaches of maritime law."


Drake gives a moment for the above to sink in. "With that being said, if you elect to take your chance with a court martial, understand that you will be relieved of duty and confined to quarters until such time as we are able to arrange for your transport to a Starbase or similar Federation outpost where you can stand trial. If this does go to a formal legal action, I will pursue it aggressively, filing charges that will include items such as dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming, and any and all technicalities that I can find that may apply. While it is certainly possible that you may be able to win your case in a formal legal proceeding, given the evidence I have seen thus far, I rather doubt that will be the situation. If you are convicted at a court martial, you can expect to spend real time in the brig, and can almost guarantee that your Starfleet career will be over."


The silence in the room is palpable. Asovil finally deigns to regard Chief Crane's expression and studies it with unfeigned interest as Captain Drake continues. "If you wish to confer with your advocate, Chief Crane, you may do so now. I need to know which course you would prefer to take."


"There's no need to confer, Captain," Chief Crane's voice maintains a steady and level tone. "I am fully prepared to accept your ruling in this matter, sir."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas presses her lips together and finds herself surprisingly relieved by the CPO's decision. Knowing full well that Tochi is Lauren's advocate, having discussed some of the details at lunch, Asovil can only surmise that the woman has made the best possible decision for her future. Returning her attention to Captain Drake, the Andorian awaits the continuance of the Captain's Mast.

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 16:42:32.
Edited on 2016-10-25 at 16:43:31 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I see...


Crane will likely be as compliant as possible having done her own research the night before and feeling absolutely horrible about the whole affair.

Eol, are you wanting to do a backpost with Crane and Tochi or just continue with the Captain's Mast?

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 10:35:20.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: Drifter


Colum's pastor is in L.A., not local. But I figure he's Colum's go to for info of the Supernatural ilk.

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 10:22:25.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I've posted.


Made some assumptions, so if you want me to retract anything, let me know.

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 18:09:21.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Accept? She'll fall at his feet and cry thankfully.


I've no problem jumping ahead. Crane will be there early, fretting privately. Asovil will also be there but will keep her distance as more of an observer unless called upon.

Eol, if you feel that we can punch out the interaction quickly enough, I've no problem playing Crane to your Tochi, but if not... have at it!

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 18:08:06.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Everything lost... everything.


I'm coming off of a losing weekend. Both football teams lost (college and Pro), and I was hoping it wasn't so, but I totally called the Walking Dead season premier events. Which, though satisfying in that I was right, was still disappointing because... well... I liked them.

I'll wait and see what Eol posts before I write more. Then I'll probably continue the reception for the sake of interaction and see if there's something more to reply to in the other posts.

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 10:50:39.

Topic: Hunter the Vigil, A supernatural Game
Subject: The Owl, a Local Pub in Markham a Suburb in Toronto, Canada.


Coincidence is a fool's method for explaining away God's plan for a person, of that Colum is positive. He is a long way from California covered in the grime from the road wearing his riding leathers, hungry, tired, and in a sour mood having been caught in two rainstorms just today. The freeway spills out into this quiet suburb and Wrathman's hunger had driven him to the first bar he'd come across: The Owl. Parking his Fat Boy with the front tire out ready to ride, the modern day cowboy had slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and readily proceeded inside.

Wiping the dust from his face with a bandana, Colum drops into a booth and scans the room. Locals and a couple of waitresses, but nothing that stands out to him as needing immediate attention. Shifting his bags closer to the wall, he adjusts his SW1911 so that he won't be obstructed should he need to snatch it from it's holster, and turns back to the room just in time to greet the brunette arriving at his table.

"Welcome to the Owl," she says with a timid smile and points to the far end of the table against the wall. "The menu is there, have you had a chance to look it over?"

"What's good?" Colum raises his eyebrows in question.

"People here like the fish n' chips," resting her weight on her left leg, she juts her hip out and holds her elbow to her hip for support as she prepares to write down his order. "Homemade tartar sauce is tasty."

"Got anything that came from something with hooves?"

"Sure do, sweety," she leans forward, placing her torso directly in front of the biker's eyes as she pulls the menu out from behind the salt and pepper shakers and places it in front of him. "You got the garlic burger, the ketchup burger, and the Swiss burger."

"I'll take the Swiss and a Corona Extra."

"Coming up."

The atmosphere in the bar is decent, but when the meal arrives, Colum decides that the food's nothing amazing. The beer is, as always, Corona, and that pleases the biker. As he eats, a meeting of people gather nearby. What appears to the hunter to be a local pastor of a church has organized a meeting on the rooftop terrace, offering free food, drink and the opportunity to talk about the strange things happening around the neighborhood. The words of those gathering drift to the tired Californian drawing his attention. Strange things, Man in White, and other mentions of behaviors that are obviously concerning people ignite Colum's interest and he grabs his plate, hooks a finger around the neck of his beer, and grabs his saddlebags.

"You all done, sweety?" the brunette returns quickly to his side. "I'll bus that, no need for you to."

"Naw," McRath smiles, showing even white teeth. "Just curious about that." He tilts his leather-wrapped head towards the stairs where another couple of locals begin their ascent.

"Oh," hazel eyes widen a bit and her friendly smile fades. "That's Pastor Jeremy's town hall meeting."

"Am I not allowed?"

"No. I mean, no, you're allowed if you want to go, but it's just to discuss some trouble we're having around here. So, I don't know that it'll interest you, Mister."

"I've nothing else to do," Colum settles his saddlebags on his shoulder once more. "Might be interesting to know what's going on seeing how I'm spending the night at least."

The expression on her slim face is tightly concealed, but the Californian thinks he can see unease beneath her mask as she smiles a thin, pursed lipped affectation and turns an open palm towards the stairs. "Be my guest."

"Mind if I take this?" he lifts the plate with the half-eaten burger on it to indicate what he's referring to and receives a brief shake of the head as permission. Smiling again, he turns and makes his way to the terrace.

Pastor Jeremy is a middle aged Asian man with black hair and glasses. He looks drained, like he hasn't slept in days, as do a number of the other people who have gathered. Colum draws some odd looks as he settles himself at one of the wire crosshatched tables. Raising his beer in response, he then brings it to his lips and takes a sip.

On the rooftop, the moon and stars shine brightly, the sky is clear and a gentle wind flows through the street. Colum counts about 40 to 50 people who have shown up for the meeting. Some of them standing at the back with disinterest, others grabbing as much food and drink as possible, and still some sitting at tables with friends while others are by themselves. Eventually Jeremy gets up to talk.

"Hello Everyone," the pastor states, drawing the attention of those who were mingling. Colum leans back in the hard chair and tilts the beer to his lips again. "I'm glad you could make it. Feel free to eat and drink as much as you'd like. It's on the Church's tab." Some laughter ensues, but the biker feels that even that is weak. Pastor Jeremy smiles weakly and continues.

"Now, as you've all come to know, there's been a few... disasters happening here lately. Bad things." The bespeckled man pauses and the Californian's deep set blue eyes scan the sullen faces of the gathered masses until the pastor's weary voice continues. "But, I've organized this today so that we can put a stop to it. So that we can go out and show these people what they're doing to themselves—to the community!".

He continues his rhetoric for about another minute, his eyes burning with a passionate fire though his body doesn't exude the same energy. "What can we do to fix this?" he practically roars, trying to incite the crowd. A few seconds, total silence. No one responds. Then someone raises their hand slowly and asks, "What about the stranger in white?"

Colum cranes his neck to see who the speaker is as a few groans break the silence that follows. Another voice tells him to shut up, and causes the speaker to turn in dismay and look about the room. It's an older man wearing a cardigan sweater with a Beatles t-shirt on underneath and a worn Blue Jays cap on his head. After a moment of disbelief at the community's response, he yells out over everybody, "I saw him! He has horns and he's stealing their souls! I swear it!"

People jump to their feet and a cacophony of protest erupts. Colum loses sight of the old man until he is hoisted past the biker yelling unintelligibly as he gets dragged downstairs. Watching him pass by, the Californian turns back to the crowd and quietly assesses their mood. A few people watch sympathetically as the crazy man (Colum here's the name Norman more than a few times from those yelling) is hauled off, but most of the crowd is telling him to "Stop wasting our time, you old nut!"

Once the hubbub settles, Pastor Jeremy smiles wearily and calls out, "Any other suggestions?"

Returning his steel-eyed gaze back to his burger, Colum decides he's not as hungry as he'd originally thought. Norman's outburst and claims have chilled his stomach, filling it with ice. Twenty-five hundred miles without anything to remind him of the horrors he'd left behind and now he rides into something that he can't ignore. If others are experiencing anything akin to that which he's had to deal with, well, it's the whole coincidence thing again. It just doesn't exist.

Pulling his cellphone from his leather jacket, the hunter pulls up the messaging app and thumbs in a quick message to Pastor Dominic: Came across something here. Guy claims to have seen a man dressed in white with horns stealing souls. Sound like anything?

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, the tattooed man hooks his beer by the neck again and turns to follow Norman down the stairs. He is determined to locate the old man and hear what he has to say.



Posted on 2016-10-24 at 10:47:26.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: More planning and possible relief for Casino's pain.


Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:09 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)

"Working clubs as a bouncer, huh?" Murtaugh gruffly brings the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Got anyone who can back that up?"

Riggs stands up and motions his partner to follow him resulting in the older policeman stiffly rising from his plastic chair. "Stay put, Mr. Story."

The two cops walk about six meters away where Officer Riggs shows Officer Murtaugh his agent. The senior officer looks the screen over briefly before nodding and the two of them return to their seats.

"Tell me about Chan Wo, Mr. Story," Murtaugh orders quietly. "About six years ago? Ring a bell?"

"Of course," the wounded man growls. "I'm getting old, not dumb. So, what about it? I was cleared of all charges and you both know that already. So, why the interest? Am I being charged with something?"

"Just curious," Murtaugh shrugs and pulls at his bulletproof vest to situate it more comfortably. "Helluvah lot of identity theft going on these days. Making sure you are who you say you are."

"The blues on the street are finalizing the scene, Mr. Story," Riggs adds. "We'll know better if you're going to be charged when they're finished."

Emergency rooms are notorious for their long wait times and Night City Regional's is one of the worst. The waiting room consists of approximately ten meters by fifteen meters of polished tile flooring beneath a fifteen foot ceiling with recessed lighting. Thin steel pillars are spaced strategically throughout the chamber providing support as needed while barely obstructing the view. Two such pillars display holographic sign boards indicating wait time currently set at two hours, and the far right wall is essentially a television screen with a main show taking up the whole of it and six picture-in-picture screens (three on each side) showing alternate entertainment. The main screen is airing GNN's Abraham Hightower and Gina Sharon covering on-going news. One screen is showing cartoons, another a Latin soap opera, and the third on the left side of the wall is showing a fluff piece on Eli "Ramjet" Cooper of the embattled Night City Nomads rugby team. On the other side the screens are playing The Robot in My Bedroom which is a Desnai dramedy; Judge, Jury, and Executioner, a documentary on the notorious Sandman; and a public interest piece on contaminants in the water supplies being covered by a media personality Casino finds familiar, but can't recall her name.

To Casino's right, Murtaugh has settled back and is watching the entertainment obviously aware that they are due to be there a while, and to the solo's left, Riggs is reviewing information on his run-of-the-mill agent encased as it is in its durable black combat casing.

"Hey," Riggs says without looking up from his device. "Mr. Story. What'd this fellow look like who was airlifted by the AV?"

(OOC: Casino's answer.)

Officer Riggs enters the information into his handheld and then studies the screen a moment longer. "That was a Trauma Team AV, wasn't it Murtaugh?"

"Sure was," the older cop answers in a distracted tone.

"Anything more you can give me on the victim, Mr. Story?" Riggs looks up from his agent and raises his bushy eyebrows at the wounded solo.

(OOC: Casino's answer.)

"What's the injury?" a three foot tall vacuum-cleaner with a holographic round head displaying a smiley face on a round, yellow ball rolls up in front of the three men.

"Gunshot wound to the arm," Riggs explains.

"Would you like something for the pain?" the face turns into a wide-eyed expression of question complete with raised eyebrows.

(OOC: Casino's answer.)

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

Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:28 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)

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

Within Maggie's Grill, Ghlahn, Blossom, Echo, and Bloodbank have been nursing their drinks for approximately twenty-minutes by the time Vegas and Fixer arrive.

"Where's your partner?" Blossom pokes the ice in her glass with her index finger and watches it bob up and down in the brown liquid Julieta had refilled moments earlier.

"We ran into a bit of a problem outside the Rat Pack," the Chairman look-alike fills the group in. "Casino got himself shot up pretty bad. He stayed behind to let the cops patch him up, while using his 'Casino Charm' to throw them off our scent while we proceed with the task we signed up for.

"Nice to see you too Doll."

"Chill," the wardriver replies. "You're not at all concerned about the integrity of our run, are you?"

"Well Doll," continued the dapper solo, "no need to worry your pretty little head about my concerns.

"We did manage to meet Starlight and get the hardware that Casino ordered. Fixer has all Casino's heavy duty firepower. I have the Taser. Starlight managed to get herself shot all to pieces, but she was airlifted out by her posse before the cops arrived to take Casino in for questioning. She will be wanting a report soon."

"Is he going to join us later, then? And Starlight—have you heard anything about her condition since you left her?" Echo asks, wondering how bad "shot up pretty bad" and "shot all to pieces" really was.

Blossom rolls the sucker to the other side of her mouth with her tongue and stares at the group's designated leader for a moment before saying, "Seeing how the gig's health affects all of us, I think worrying about one of the team being picked up by cops and our benefactor being ‘shot all to pieces' is more than just your concerns, Choomba."

(OOC: Vegas' response will determine whether Blossom continues to press.)

"All right," Bloodbank speaks up and leans forward over his drink after glancing about to make sure no one was within non-enhanced hearing range. "Here's the skinny,"

He proceeds to explain the setting of the Bartholomew School, the tenements nearby, the security as they could see it, and the only plan they'd come up with so far. When he finishes, he leans back and raises his eyebrows. "Any ideas?"

"Trail may get too cold by Monday," states the dapper solo, "and no telling where the kid is stashed. Santa is probably getting more fidgety by the hour. No telling who else has been employed to find the kid. I for one have been through too much tonight to let some other Choombas cut in on our action!" He looks each of the men in the eye, before continuing his one-sided conversation. "I want to hear what the Ladies have to say."

Vegas turns his attention to Blossom and Echo, foregoing any foreplay of flirtation. "Okay," he asks without his usual charm, "what course of action makes sense to you dolls?"

"The only thoughts I had was posing as students, which may not work because it's the weekend." Echo responds. "I asked Blossom to check for any activities the school might be having today, like a game or some junk, which might make it easier to get in. Another thought I just had is what about the sewer system or some other underground maint tunnels?"

She leans back and takes a sip of her cola.

"That's all I've got, choomba. You have any bright ideas?"

"Private schools," Blossom audibly pops the sucker from her mouth and points it towards the pretty nomad. "They focus more on academics than sports. There's a swim meet being held in the Central Valley Integrate, but that's it. Nothin' for nothin' on campus.

"I also pulled up a map from the Dark on the sewers in this part of the Integrate," the netrunner twirls her candy about in the air like a wand, "magical-like. There's a central access tunnel that runs under the southeast corner. Looks like there could be a manhole if the data is still right. Don't know what kind of security."

The tiny platinum blonde Asian places her agent on the table and activates the holoprojector at the top, bringing up a 3-dimensional map that hovers approximately ten centimeters over the devices in a ball of transparent tunnels and the bottoms of wireframed buildings twenty centimeters in diameter.

"That's about three blocks back the way we just came," she points to a position on the ball that shows what appears to be street access to the tunnels. "Middle of the street, pretty out in the open, but it'd be our closest way down. See here?" she traces a line down the tunnels and then waves the ball into motion moving it along the correct path until reaching the portion of the map she wants. A quick move results in the map stopping and she once again uses her lollipop to point out the next street level access point. "That's the one that opens up in the compound."

"What kind of security do you think is down there?" Bloodbank queries. "And traffic is still heavy enough from what I saw that it begs the question, how do we get down in the first place?"

(OOC: Ideas?)

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 09:50:01.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Not a problem.


I'll just update Bloodbank's interaction with my post today and you can take over when you're caught up.

Which I did. The game has been updated. A lot of planning needs to happen, so don't be afraid to post small and often to carry the conversation forward, or you all can plan things out here and then post the conversations in game.

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 08:55:21.
Edited on 2016-10-24 at 09:54:36 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I, too, will...


Post soon.

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 08:54:36.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I fixed that.


You've been given access.

Posted on 2016-10-22 at 21:52:47.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Dang it!


Why couldn't it have been a neighbor's child?

Posted on 2016-10-21 at 10:28:35.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Oooooo Tochi mode.


I wonder if there's a Pagan god one could make sacrifices to in order to keep a house from falling apart.

Posted on 2016-10-20 at 16:16:26.

Topic: D&D v5 New Book Concepts
Subject: D&D v5 New Book Concepts


What do you think?

READ THIS ARTICLE

Posted on 2016-10-20 at 16:14:53.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I live to serve...


...up catchy tunes.

Posted on 2016-10-20 at 16:13:50.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Oh, the joys of owning a home...


The American Dream, right? I've been busting my tail for the last couple of weeks on home reno projects. I'm putting up molding tonight. The good thing is that these projects have "earned" me the privilege of now owning a nail gun, a new miter saw, and a... wait for it... leaf blower. Yup. That's what happens when you make a hella mess of sawdust in your garage and the wife doesn't think sweeping will take care of it.

Nice post, Haemis! I'm happy to keep that going if you are. Plus, it gives more interaction opportunities for others aboard.

Looking forward to your posts, everyone!

Posted on 2016-10-20 at 10:50:18.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Glad you liked that.


Thanks for the post.

That leaves... one. One is the loneliest number...

Posted on 2016-10-20 at 10:43:29.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: You can start posting any time you're ready, Impulse.


Until you make your first post, I'll just update Bloodbank's actions when I write my game update.

Aletheia, no sweat. So long as I know you players aren't abandoning me to sit alone in the dark playing with my dice (:NAUGHTY I'm a patient man.

Sewers run all throughout the city on each level. Your characters are more than welcome to investigate the alligators there.

I've three of the six of you with posts in place. Aletheia has said she'd have one up soon, so that will leave just two of you (one of which is still learning about the game and his character, so I'll forgive that, which leaves one more I haven't heard from...).

Posted on 2016-10-19 at 16:09:49.
Edited on 2016-10-19 at 16:11:51 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: No rush...


School and Real Life certainly comes first.

I figure Colum will have just ridden into town and may have caught wind of the going-ons with Mr. White through some locals gabbing at a bar and he figures he'll check it out.

So, Impulse, are our characters starting out at the "Town Hall" meeting?

Posted on 2016-10-19 at 16:06:44.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: In response...


Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:11



the Kuldaran suddenly looks between the Starfleet officers and remarks, "Is that Security that has just arrived, Lieutenant Zai? Are you expecting trouble?"

"Not at all, Ambassador," Zai answers as his gaze finds the newly appointed CEO, whose entry had somehow gone unnoticed by the XO, "That would be Lieutenant McTavish, the Peregrine's Chief of Engineering."

"Engineering?" D'Lar chuffs. "It would seem that he is the entire Engineering department!"

"His size is impressive," Threel adds thoughtfully. "Would he not be better suited to a combat position?"

"Wouldn't we all be better suited if there were no combat positions?" The Trill counters with a sagacious smile that brings Asovil's gaze back from McTavish to the XO's charm-ridden face. He holds up a hand to forestall any arguments that such a lofty ideal is, in reality, unreachable and continues. "A dream to dream, we know," Tochi breathes, "what meaning is there to peace if there is no conflict for it to counter, after all? Still," he inclines his head toward the CEO who has just received his drink from Crewman Pierce, "the physicality of Mr McTavish, there, is far from his greatest asset to Starfleet. His knowledge of engineering and his understanding of the Peregrine's physicality are of greater benefit to us, in all actuality. After all, without support from behind the front lines, what good would those serving there be, in the long run? Without reliable Engineers, the war-fighters' equipment would certainly fail after a time, and they'd be reduced to hurling rocks and waving sticks. Without talented people in our Science and Medical divisions, what would become of those on the front if they are injured or exposed to any number of environmental conditions, chemical or biological agents, and etcetera?" Still smiling, Tochi shrugs vaguely and concludes, "Combat positions would be all but pointless without support positions, we think. Very short-lived, if nothing else."

"Interesting," D'Lar mutters, still looking toward the CEO. Lt. Sh'iraolnas finds herself impressed at the tapestry the Trill just wove and the political nature in which he both suggests peace and avoids forcing it down the ambassadors' collective throats. Quite suddenly, the Kuldaran calls out in an attempt to get the Scotsman's attention. "Lt McTavish! Please, join us, I would enjoy learning more about this vessel we are guest upon."

The Chief Science Officer returns her sapphire gaze towards the table and the mountain of a man, missing Tochi's look as he too turns once more toward Lt. McTavish. Brushing her hair back over her ear absent-mindedly, she is too distracted to witness the way Lt. Zai's smile warms a fraction.


"Yes, Lieutenant," the XO urges Haemis, "Please,"

Haemis McTavish blinks, a distracted and confused look gracing his long features. He cranes his head towards the sound of his name being called out and takes a quick breath. Rising to his full height, the CEO makes his way around the table and over towards the group.

"Good Even'n." he says with a bow. "Lieutenant Haemis McTavish, but my friends call me Mac." he extends a hand first to each of the ambassadors starting with D'Lar. "Well now, this is some gather'n I hope you're finding yourself well at ease with our gallant crew here."

"As at ease as if I were in my own home," Threel remarks smoothly.

"Sure enough," D'Lar gruffs, obviously more interested in the subject of his request rather than small talk.

Asovil turns her head to her left—the area that Haemis has procured upon arriving—and tilts it a little to the right, interested in just how the Chief Engineering Officer is going to navigate the tricky waters of not disclosing too much about the ship while still managing to provide a satisfactory answer.

"Well now, your request..." McTavish pauses, thinking a moment. "This here vessel may be wee, but she's got a bit of a bite to her. Most people underestimate ships like this because of their size. Never underestimate the ingenuity of a small crew and a fast ship!" he quiets and ponders something a moment before continuing. "She has a normal cruis'n speed of Warp Seven, and can hold a fair high clip for a long while yet. I've no' had the opportunity to get my hands on much yet, so we might be able to do better." He paused again and the Andorian woman observes his brow twitch just a bit in what she assumes is self-realization.

The CEO's cheeks appear slightly flushed to the Chief Science Officer. Perhaps he's already been drinking a bit before he arrived here, Asovil considers.

"Is there someth'n in particular you'd like to know about?" Haemis blinks away his self-consideration and abruptly returns his attention to the scaly-skinned dignitary.

"What about the weapons compliment?" D'Lar presses. "When we were first introduced to the two vessels upon which our delegation and ourselves now journey, we were informed that the USS Coronado doesn't carry quite the load out that the USS Peregrine carries and yet, the USS Coronado is a much larger ship."

The blue-skinned beauty's antennae lean forward and she unconsciously chews on the inside of her bottom lip. Such questions were usually considered rude within the Andorian culture, but she is unsure as to Terran's, or, for that matter, Kuldaran's and Rhytanians. Tread carefully, Mr. McTavish, she internally cautions.

(OOC: opportunity to continue the conversation,)


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Ready Room - 08:35


And then, the bomb drops. "It is, however, troubling that I need to report a rather serious infraction," Sh'iraolnas speaks in a serious tone.

Releasing her knee, the blue-skinned woman leans back in her chair and uses the palm of her right hand to press the folds in her right pant leg down, paying attention to her actions instead of looking at Captain Drake's response. "Chief Crane admitted to me that she is the reason for Lieutenant Tesenblen's arrest, though the intention was innocent enough."

"You see," she continues, "the Lieutenant's most recent project—the one that involved the Wolfsbane—became a concern to the Chief when the delegation chose the Peregrine as their berth. She approached Lieutenant Tesenblen with her concerns and according to her, he dismissed them as he had your approval for the security protocols he'd enacted and the intention behind his research. You'll see in the report I forwarded you early this block that she felt she had to act to protect the integrity of the mission and the safety of our guests, the crew, and Starfleet on a whole. Feeling that she had nowhere else to go due to your approval of the project, she reported the existence of the Wolfsbane to Starbase One-One-Eight's security team."

"Chief Crane was quite distraught that this caused Lieutenant Tesenblen's arrest. She considered him a friend as well as her commanding officer." Looking up from her ironing work, Asovil meets Silas' gaze once more. "Details are in the report, including the message from CPO Crane's personal communication file. I've spoken with her about the severity of her actions and told her that discipline will be forthcoming. Until then, she is to remain restricted to her quarters. I feel that the situation did not warrant bothering you with it during Beta Shift's activities and could wait until Alpha."

At last, Sh'iraolnas stops speaking, though it takes a moment for Silas to register that fact. His face feels flushed; there is a knot in the pit of his stomach and a dull ringing in his ears. The Captain's eyes spark with dark fury as he fixes the new science chief with a glare. "She. Did. What." he spits through gritted teeth.

Responding to his raw, exposed wrath with slightly raised eyebrows and a twitch of her antennae, Asovil is barely able to keep her sudden desire to bolt from the room in check and forces herself to remain still under the white hot rage—still and silent.

Drake snatches his PADD off of his desk and thumbs through his screen commands until he locates the aforementioned report. If possible, the Captain's countenance falls even further as he absorbs the information therein and the blue-skinned woman wonders if the report is unsatisfactory.

Silas glances up at the Andorian woman, then drops the PADD back onto his desk as he stands and paces a few strides from the fixture. The Captain turns his back on his guest as he considers the various ship models from around the room. Pale blue eyes affix to the glossy surface of the captain's desk as the scientist awaits his reply.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lieutenant. Whatever her motivations, the fact remains that not only did Chief Crane clearly violate the chain of command, but her actions caused severe—perhaps irreparable—harm to the career of your predecessor. This is a matter of discipline and protocol, and will have to be dealt with by more than a few days of being grounded to her room."

Agreeing silently with Silas' assessment, Asovil continues her study of the desk surface and waits for him to flesh out his thoughts. Drake closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he keys his communicator. "Drake to Petty Officer Vish."

=/=Vish here, Captain,=/= comes the snarky reply. =/=Why so formal?=/=

"Not now, Yeoman!" Drake snaps.

Instantly, the voice on the other end turns businesslike. =/=Aye, Captain. What can I do for you, sir?"=/=

In other circumstances, Drake might have marveled at the change in tone, but he is too preoccupied to notice. "Riva, I want you to locate Chief Crane. If she is off duty, proceed directly to her quarters; if not, find her at her station. Inform her that she is to report to the Captain's Mess at fourteen hundred hours to be subject of a Captain's Mast."

=/=Sir?=/= comes the unsure reply.

Drake's voice is measured and calm, though he has to consciously unball his fist. "You have your orders, petty officer. Carry them out."

=/=Aye, sir. Orders acknowledged. Vish out.=/= came the reply.

Silas lets out a heavy sigh and retakes his chair, drawing the Andorian's gaze up from the desktop to meet his gaze as he speaks, "Unless there is something more, Lieutenant, I believe that you have a department to attend to, and I have hearing to prepare for."

"Nothing more, sir. As stated in the report, I have suspended Chief Crane from duty."

Drake nods. "Very well. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

The scientist rises with smooth alacrity and salutes. She knows that she doesn't need to relay to Drake that she'll be present for the Captain's Mast as department heads are required to attend. Stepping to her left, she turns on her left heel and walks briskly to the door, passing through as it slides open for her.

Striding onto the Bridge, Asovil's sharp eyes dart to Science Conn 1. Chief Crane should have been on duty, but her circumstances have forced the department to improvise and before the CSO had left her office, she had ordered Ensign Maize to make sure Lauren's duties are covered. Sure enough, the conn is being manned by the tall and athletically built Petty Officer 2nd Class Prudnikov. Satisfied that Maize has followed orders thus far, the Andorian continues through to the turbolift.

"Deck four," she orders as she turns about and faces the Bridge while the doors close.

Captain Drake is hot in the seat, she concludes, mixing up two Terran metaphors. The only time she's seen him calm is at the reception and then he seemed more inclined to allow Tochi to take the lead than and reticent to engage. I've worked with tempers before, she advises herself. The key is to make certain that the work I am responsible for is thorough and that deadlines are met. It's an old drill.


=/= Deck 4 =/=

As soon as the doors open, Asovil strides out of the lift and down the hall. She absently returns the salute of a red shirted man when they pass, but otherwise encounters no one until she steps into the lab within which her office resides.

Science Lab 1 is quiet and empty except for the presence of Ensign Maize seated at her station in the far corner. Dalia's turn to look over her shoulder is ignored by the CSO, who breezes through to her office. Once inside, Asovil makes her way to the replicator and orders her usual Katheka before seating herself behind the desk. Holding the hot Starfleet insignia emblazoned mug in both hands, the young officer allows the steam to caress the skin of her face for a moment while she considers the remainder of her day.

"Computer," she calls lightly. "Schedule a reminder for me to leave for the Captain's Mast by thirteen-forty hours. Make sure my calendar is clear for the remainder of Alpha after that."

=/= Your reminder has been set, Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. =/=

Setting the mug on the smooth surface of her desk, Asovil leans forward and brings up her computer screen. Tapping her way through the menus, the scientist pulls up her project titled Dark Matter Propulsion 612.3. Taking two deep breaths and allowing the air to escape her lungs in a metered manner, she absently takes up her mug and sips while her sapphire eyes flit through the recently calculated data acquired from the latest computer simulations. Variances in the containment field results of the shield generator matrix immediately catch her eye. "A leak?" she wonders out loud and scrolls down to the section detailing simulated environmental issuances of the lacel fabrication. Sure enough, the numbers deteriorate after a mere hour of operation. Multiple alterations made by the computer all result in containment failure which dramatically reduces the speed attained, and in most cases, results in either implosion or explosion of the lacel.

"The math is incorrect," she surmises. "That's the only explanation." Swiping the screen to her left with two delicate blue fingers, Asovil then double-taps the button granting her access to the various mathematical formulas the simulation is working with.

Posted on 2016-10-19 at 15:55:48.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Sounds like an amazing trip, Eol.


I'm glad you were able to do that and that you were safe!

Olan, love the post. I'll try to get something up in response today.

I've posted.

Haemis, there's more opportunity to continue the reception conversation (Eol and others who are there as well) if you so desire.

Posted on 2016-10-19 at 12:52:32.
Edited on 2016-10-19 at 16:02:31 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I made the map into a hyperlink for you.


Looking forward to this. Just watched the return of Supernatural last night (had it DVRd). Stoked to burn some bones and bathe in holy water.

Posted on 2016-10-17 at 09:17:52.
Edited on 2016-10-17 at 09:18:42 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: You're blinding me with science!


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Ready Room - 08:28


The chime sounded, just a bit early - which was exactly what Silas had expected. "Come in," he bade, and the hatch slid open to reveal the blue-skinned Andorian officer that served as the new science chief. The Captain rose and offered a hand, then gestured to the seat across from his own. "Please, have a seat, Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas."

Asovil's attentive sapphire colored eyes dart about the room as she hesitates in a premature salute and moves forward to shake Silas' hand. Details of the captain's ready room jump out at her helping to establish further insights into her leader's personality, interests, and personal tastes. Taking the proffered chair, the science officer crosses her legs at the knee and places her laced fingers over her left knee in a gentile manner that still afforded her proper posture.

"I trust that you have had a chance to settle in a bit?" Drake asks.

"I have, sir," she replies evenly, accenting the words with a crisp nod.

The Captain nodded. "Again, I would like to apologize for the less than cordial welcome yesterday. While I am certain that you can appreciate the frustration I was under by having all but one of my department heads replaced within a twenty-four hour window - including a secret arrest of one of them - the fact remains that none of that was your fault, and as such, I was less than polite to you. Hopefully, the lack of tact on my part will not hamper our working relationship going forward."

"There's no need for the apology, sir," the beautiful Andorian woman presses her lips together in humble acceptance all the same. "I'm sure yesterday's events felt a bit like a siege upon your ship. I don't know that I wouldn't have been worse to encounter in a similar situation."

Silas gave a half smile. "Very well. You strike me as an individual that values directness, so let's get down to business. First off, I owe you a full briefing."

Drake leaned back a bit in his chair. "We were originally assigned as the escort for the USS Coronado, a Miranda class vessel that has been refit for diplomatic purposes, in her mission to broker a peace between the Kuldar and Rytain at a summit to be held in the Gamera system. Her outdated combat capabilities were even further reduced by the refit, but she has excellent facilities for diplomats - as well as a crew trained for, and dedicated to such missions. The escort was required to ensure their safety. However, when Lieutenant Zai and I met with Captain Jacobs, his first officer, and the ambassadors at Starbase 118, the ambassadors put a wrinkle into the situation by demanding berths aboard the 'superior' vessel - even if it meant leaving the rest of their contingents behind on the Coronado. To say that Captain Jacobs was displeased would be an understatement, but in the end, we really had little choice but to comply."

The Captain shook his head. "We have less than two days worth of warp to reach the Gamera system, at which point we will deliver the ambassadors, resume an escort position, and wish the process the best. Captain Jacobs has made it clear in no uncertain terms that we are not to interfere, that we are to limit our interactions with the ambassadors."

Drake gave a wry grin. "I am more than happy to comply with these orders. As you have likely surmised, I care little for politics and flowery words. Fortunately for this mission, Lieutenants Zai and Lasad have talents in this area, so last night's reception wasn't the utter failure I might have otherwise created."

Silas clasped his hands. "Any questions?" he asked.

"I appreciate the information, sir," Lt. Sh'iraolnas looks him directly in the eyes. "I am, of course, putting my department at the disposal of the mission." She considers Tochi's insights into their circumstances from last night and appreciates the captain's quality of restraint. There is a lot more Drake could say on the matter, but rather than influence his new officer with his opinion, he has chosen to allow her to formulate her own.

The Captain nodded. "Moving on, then. I would assume that you have had a chance to meet with all of your staff. I'm curious as to your first impression of them, if you don't mind my asking."

Drake kept his face neutral. This line of conversation would allow Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas the chance to mention the confinement of Chief Crane to quarters without him having to break tradition and inquire about intra-department discipline. Naturally, it was his right to know - nothing aboard a ship was off limits to the Captain - but traditions were to be respected. He did not want the new department chief to feel that he was stepping on her toes with her less than a day into the job, but the fact that an otherwise well behaved chief has required this disciplinary measure did pique Drake's curiosity.

"Actually, sir," the young officer chews for a moment on the inside of her bottom lip allowing her eyes to drift to the ships along the wall as she considers how in-depth she wants her verbal report to be. "I've already succeeded in meeting with each of them.

"I was made privy to Lieutenant Tesenblen's circumstances, and took it upon myself to look further into the situation in terms of the department's involvement. For the most part," she returns her eyes to Silas' rugged face and blinks slowly as she continues, "the personnel seem to be capable. There are a couple of circumstances that I'm correcting as they are currently operating from a deviated trajectory, but those are of no concern to you in the bigger picture. It is, however, troubling that I need to report a rather serious infraction."

Releasing her knee, the blue-skinned woman leans back in her chair and uses the palm of her right hand to press the folds in her right pant leg down, paying attention to her actions instead of looking at Captain Drake's response. "Chief Crane admitted to me that she is the reason for Lieutenant Tesenblen's arrest, though the intention was innocent enough.

"You see, the Lieutenant's most recent project—the one that involved the Wolfsbane—became a concern to the Chief when the delegation chose the Peregrine as their berth. She approached Lieutenant Tesenblen with her concerns and according to her, he dismissed them as he had your approval for the security protocols he'd enacted and the intention behind his research. You'll see in the report I forwarded you early this block that she felt she had to act to protect the integrity of the mission and the safety of our guests, the crew, and Starfleet on a whole. Feeling that she had nowhere else to go due to your approval of the project, she reported the existence of the Wolfsbane to Starbase One-One-Eight's security team.

"Chief Crane was quite distraught that this caused Lieutenant Tesenblen's arrest. She considered him a friend as well as her commanding officer." Looking up from her ironing work, Asovil meets Silas' gaze once more. "Details are in the report, including the message from CPO Crane's personal communication file. I've spoken with her about the severity of her actions and told her that discipline will be forthcoming. Until then, she is to remain restricted to her quarters. I felt that the situation did not warrant bothering you with it during Beta Shift's activities and could wait until Alpha."


Posted on 2016-10-14 at 16:19:18.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Done!


I've moved everyone forward.

Now's a good time to interact, get some plans laid, and share strengths, capabilities, gear, etc. as you would have your character do through gameplay. As we all know, a ton of back and forth can slow things down, so feel free to do what I've done with (OOC: Assuming a positive response...) or the like. I'll piece things together and even make minor adjustments to dialogue to make them fit as necessary.

Feel free to make multiple posts. I'm not holding you to one post per week. That's the minimum.

Also, don't forget to look your characters over for skills and capabilities, gear and cyberware that could help. If you don't have the link to your characters anymore (Google Drive link), let me know and I'll shoot them to you.

Party on, Garth!

Posted on 2016-10-14 at 15:53:04.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Travel, Food, and Sights... what more could you want?


Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:07 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)

Officer Murtaugh, for that is the cop's name, stares at the solo's face for a moment and then nods and settles back into his chair. "Age old story, I'm afraid," he acknowledges. "A few times a night actually. Most of the time the bystanders who get hit aren't as lucky as you are, uh, Mister,?"

"Story, Keith Story," the bruiser of a man replies.

"So," Murtaugh continues. "Big guy like you with old school cybe, what you do to make bank nowadays?"

"Well, that was the reason I was at the club in the first place," Casino does his best to hold really still and not jostle his injury, "looking for work.

"Yeah, I'm sure you can tell from my old tech I'm not much in the runner biz. Mostly work as a bouncer in clubs like The Rat Pack—hell, only own the one .44. Ahh... I will be getting that back, right?"

"Provided you got the papers on it all in order," the younger officer—a fellow with the name badge of Riggs—chimes in, "and there's no proof you were involved in the shooting."

"Working clubs as a bouncer, huh?" Murtaugh gruffly brings the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Got anyone who can back that up?"

Riggs stands up and motions his partner to follow him resulting in the older policeman stiffly rising from his plastic chair. "Stay put, Mr. Story."

The two cops walk about six meters away where Officer Riggs shows Officer Murtaugh his agent. The senior officer looks the screen over briefly before nodding and the two of them return to their seats.

"Tell me about Chan Wo, Mr. Story," Murtaugh orders quietly. "About six years ago? Ring a bell?"

(OOC: Casino's reply,)

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

Outside Frazetti's Restaurant (closed) | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:48 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)

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

While the cops are dealing with the aftermath of the team's encounter, Vegas and Fixer return to the main street as passer-bys and begin their trek towards Frazetti's restaurant. The two watch as the cops cuff and load Casino into the back of the squad car, passing the scene close to the buildings in order to not draw attention to themselves. Fate is on their side as they make it through the area without a single cop paying them any mind. Those citizens brave enough to stick around and answer the police officer's questions pay them no mind as well, and within seconds the pair have made it out of the hot zone.

Keeping a pace that won't draw attention, the paid of edgerunners hunch against the storm and do their best to keep from hacking and coughing as the poisonous air scratches and bites at their throats and lungs.

Not a minute from the site of the firefight, life in the Night City Integrate continues as normal. The city certainly does not sleep whether the commotion is caused by people employed at one of them any shops, eateries, or offices that line the street, or the hubbub consists of those just hanging out on a stoop preferring the weather to the confines of their conapt, Vegas and Fixer are not alone. The activity is comforting as it provides a means to blend into their surroundings more and despite the weight of the events they've just endured, Casino did have a point. He was going to get patched up, and if he plays his cards right, the gambler could be out fairly quickly. Starlight's use of the Trauma Team® means that she is most certainly taken care of, and that means that the two of them can focus on the run.

Frazetti's Restaurant's sign is bright red neon on a cheese wedge marquee that juts out beneath an extension of building overhead. The two edgerunners have to cross the busy street at an abortion clinic, arriving on the same side after dodging a couple of honking cars in front of a busy laundromat. Passing a kitchen and cutlery storefront, they pause at the street corner to wait for a cab to make its turn. Once the vehicle has passed and the hooded sign across the street indicates it is the pedestrian's turn, the two make their way to the front of the restaurant and duck into the alcove containing the establishment's glass doors.

Frazetti's looks like a nice enough restaurant from through the windows, but at this time of night the additional neon sign in the window reads, "CLOSED" and the hours show a dining time of 11:00 AM to 12:00 AM. At close to 2:00 AM, the only lights on in the place are security lights.

"Okay Fixer," the Dapper Solo addresses his partner glancing at his agent and hoping for a reply from the team's netrunner. "We could get a few hours rest in a nearby coffin motel, but a taxi might be wiser, especially if the cops start searching the neighborhood for any suspicious suspects to pin tonight's shooting on! Probably the easiest way into High City would be to take a taxi as well, but it will likely cost us around 40 NCD plus a tip for the ground car. We could take a power nap during the drive to the school, plus going by taxi is probably our best way to safely pass the security points; especially with all the firepower we are carrying with us!

"As for Frazetti's," the Frank Sinatra look-alike concluded, "I can eat spaghetti some other time. What do you think about hailing a taxi and heading up to High City?"

Fixer shifts the weight from his bruised leg and shrugs. "Running up a tab, but I think you're probably right. Heard back from the others yet?"

(OOC: Assuming a negative answer.)

"Well," the techie scratches at his jaw, "then I suppose we just tell the driver to take us to the school."

Night City Integrate offers a number of cab solutions at all times of the night. One of the best used services by Edgerunners is the self-driving car service called RoboCab. Vegas orders the cab by commanding his agent to do the dirty work and then receives a notice on his optic display that he has a message. A quick mental command delivers the message from Blossom (represented as a cute little anime schoolgirl jumping up and down with excitement despite the message being rather plain and bland.

We're at the school, but it's all locked down. There's a greasy spoon within a couple of blocks called Maggie's Grill. Meet there.


(OOC: I'm going to assume that the message is relayed and that you both agree to proceed to the meet. You can write it out in your next post if you want.)

The RoboCab arrives in all of its compact glory. With no need for a driver, the front seats have been turned around to face the rear seats providing an engaging little social situation for those so inclined. The only obvious technology in the vehicle is the Agent Reader Plate and cash receptacle device on the ceiling in the middle of the cab. Painted red with white and black checker stripes, there's nothing inauspicious about it, and the holographic TAXI sign hovering over the top of the stubby vehicle allows just about anyone to recognize the car's purpose even if they don't realize what the black and white checker striping means.

With only two Edgerunners taking up space, the cabin is somewhat comfortable. The stench of humanity clings to everything, defeating the occasional spritz of evergreen air freshener that is a mere couple of seconds from death the instant it's birthed. The cushions of the seat are worn and hard, once a red fabric they show signs of black stains, spots from food and candy left stuck to them, and a thinning of the material. While not overly comfortable, the seating arrangement is something that can be endured.

"Welcome to your RoboCab transportation unit Four-three-two-nine-nine-dee. Please state your destination." The cab's friendly female voice sounds softly from behind the runner's heads on both sides of the vehicle.

(OOC: Assuming Vegas provides the address to Maggie's Grill from his agent,)

"Please make sure you are seatbelted, and once I have your payment information, the ride will take approximately thirty-minutes."

Fixer fishes out his agent and holds it over the payment panel, screen facing him. Do you wish to provide RoboCab with authorization to extract payment from your account? flashes before his eyes, displayed discreetly within his optic implant. A mental command through his Neural Net grants the access and he calmly returns his agent to his front breast pocket in his black flak jacket.

"Would you care for music while we drive?" the AI poses the question as it pulls away from the curb and into traffic, a high-powered stream of air keeping the rain from hitting the windshield while rivulets of rain roll down the remainder of the glass.

(OOC: Think XMS Radio capabilities on steroids. Any music you could possibly want is available, any talk show, news, comedy channels, special interests, it's all there including private broadcasts that could be compared to podcasts and bloggers.)

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

Across the Street from the Bartholomew School of Advanced Studies | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:48 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)

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

Echo thinks for a moment, then turns to the others, "What if one of us poses as a prospective student," she says, indicating Blossom with a nod of her head, "Here with her father/guardian/what have you?" she looks at Bloodbank with a kind smile, then turns toward Ghlahn but thinks better of it, passes him over and continues. "You could go in, demand a very thorough tour of the grounds, including that security tower, to 'make sure your child will be safe there—I mean, just look at those degenerates across the street!'" Echo's suggestion drips with sarcasm. She grins and asks, "What do you all think?"

"The student trick might work." M'harú Ghlahn admits, then adds, "But if it goes wrong there isn't much chance of getting out without killing quite a few guards. Up to those of you putting your neck in the noose. I'll provide overwatch."

A moment of silence precedes his sudden realization. "Wait. What day is it? Seems like Saturday and, if so, we will have a couple day wait to try that plan. So do we hole up or come up with another plan?"

Echo looks at her watch and curses softly. "Damn. You're right. That won't work until Monday, Choombas. I don't know if the kid can wait that long. Maybe they have some activity going on later today, like a game of some sort. It might be easier to get in with that going on." Echo turns to Blossom, "Chicka, could you get to the school's calendar and see if there's anything today?"

The small Asian beauty looks up from her agent and shrugs. "I can try. By the way, Vegas just messaged us. He wants to meet up? I did a quick SocialBug search and there's a place a few blocks from here called Maggie's Grill that's open twenty-four-seven, so I put that in front of them as a joint where we can collect."

The nomad turns to the others with a grin, "I don't know about you boys, but I think and plan a whole lot better on a full stomach. I'm down for meeting the others for breakfast."

Peering across the scenery before them, the medtech activates his amped vision and studies the windows of the tenement buildings as well as what he can make out of the school compound (which isn't much).

"I think we could use more brainpower on cracking this," he says without looking away from his study. "I'm game for some kibble."

"Sounds like it's decided to me," Blossom chirps and slips her agent back into her jacket pocket. Deftly retrieving a sucker from her inside coat pocket, the netrunner unwraps it with ease and pops it into her mouth. "We ready then?"

(OOC: Assuming no objections,)

Rain and wind continue to whip at the group through the uneventful journey. Conversation is non-existent as it is easier to keep heads ducked and not inhale heavily. The weather is helping with the air quality a little, but not enough to have to avoid filtration masks and when the art deco styled diner is achieved, the group on a whole is grateful to step through the automatic doors into the short hall separating the entrance from the main lobby.

Maggie's Grill isn't large, running about sixty meters in length and about twenty meters deep for the patrons with the kitchen behind the stainless steel counter. Stools with high backs sit in front of the counter allowing customers to eat right there and booths line the exterior wall providing an unobstructed view from within to the street beyond where the interior lights are spilling out onto the rain drenched walk. There are three large media projection screens above the kitchen window facing out to the dining area. One is playing a rerun of a recent NBA game, another is playing Channel 13 News, and another is playing GNN (Global News Network); all have Closed Captioning running. Restrooms are at the far end of the dining hall as indicated by a neon sign hanging over the entrance to a hall.

A small Hispanic woman with her black hair pulled up in a hair net, enormous brown eyes, and rose petal lips wears a baby blue dress with a white collar and sleeve accents and stands behind the counter. Her white badge bears the name Julieta laser etched into it in black block lettering. Next to her, a rotund Hispanic male is leaning on the counter. He's wearing a baby blue button up shirt that has seen better days with a dingy white apron and a white chef's hat. He has a light tattoo on his neck of a mermaid and his lobes are gauged. His round face bears a number of pockmark scars, and a thin mustache rests inappropriately over his upper lip. Seated in front of them on one of the stools is an older Asian fellow with long white mustaches and a thin white beard forming a Fu Man Chu. His nose is crooked and bent, his eyes a milky white, and his outfit—a brown bowler cap, brown tweed coat, and blue corduroy pants with an old pair of running shoes—is sopping wet. The petite woman and gargantuan man both look up as the group enters while the old patron just lifts his head and tilts his head a little.

"Welcome to Maggie's," the hostess remarks with a heavy Latin accent as she snatches a towel from the countertop and walks down it's length towards you. "You can take a booth or sit at the counter and I'll be with you in a moment."

(OOC: Doesn't matter where you sit,)

Julieta follows you to your seats and hands each of you a plastic-wrapped menu. "Sancho will make up anything on that menu. We don't got anything like a breakfast menu. Everything is served any time of day. Can I get you drinks to start with?"

"We've some friends joining us," Bloodbank informs her.

"That's fine," she looks at the medtech with a friendly smile. "Do you all want me to wait until they get here to collect your orders?"

"I want a drink to start," Blossom pipes up from around her sucker. "Got any cola?"

(OOC: Orders for drinks, each will cost 1.5 NCD)

While the group waits for their companions to arrive, Blossom looks up the Bartholomew School for Advanced Studies' events schedule.

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

Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:23 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)

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

Within Maggie's Grill, Ghlahn, Blossom, Echo, and Bloodbank have been nursing their drinks for approximately twenty-minutes by the time Vegas and Fixer arrive.

"Where's your partner?" Blossom pokes the ice in her glass with her index finger and watches it bob up and down in the brown liquid Julieta had refilled moments earlier.

(OOC: Answer pending,)

"Chill," the wardriver replies. "You're not at all concerned about the integrity of our run, are you?"

(OOC: Another answer pending,)

"All right," Bloodbank speaks up and leans forward over his drink after glancing about to make sure no one was within non-enhanced hearing range. "Here's the skinny,"

He proceeds to explain the setting of the Bartholomew School, the tenements nearby, the security as they could see it, and the only plan they'd come up with so far. When he finishes, he leans back and raises his eyebrows. "Any ideas?"


Posted on 2016-10-14 at 15:49:38.

 


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