You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Eol Fefalas
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: No...
...I guess I missed that part. 
If you'd like to post, Hammer, by all means, feel free. I was just offering as I thought you'd not be posting until September.
Posted on 2017-08-09 at 11:52:18.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Welllll...
...I can make it easy, if you really want me to.
Something tells me that you don't, however.
Further updates in the works (to include a bit more for the Disturbance/Overwatch encounter, as Hammer is away)... Should have them ready a bit later... along with Nomad's "finalized" character.
Posted on 2017-08-09 at 10:40:37.
|
Topic: Making my little introduction
Subject: How ironic!
I was just bitten by a goat over the weekend! Great name! 
Now, as per tradition... *kaboingityboingboingjinglepounce*
Welcome aboard, Dungeon Goat! Great to have you here!
Posted on 2017-08-09 at 10:38:18.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: No problem.
You've given em enough "fluff" for Disturbance that I can easily NPC him for that span of time.
Safe travels, dude! Love, light, and all that happy business. 
Posted on 2017-08-08 at 15:33:31.
|
Topic: The contact form doesn't work
Subject: Quick and dirty...
...can be durned shmexy if ya ask me. 
Nice work, Brom! (As if I expected less.)
Posted on 2017-08-08 at 15:11:38.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Once you move away from mom and dad's...
...you're ALWAYS paying for someone or something.... No bout adoubt it!
Okay, so Overwatch and Disturbance have "met." Where that goes depends on Brom and Hammer. Working on Syphon and Boomer, now; hope to have an update for Penumbra, Lightning, and Phobos in the works, thereafter; and, finally, need to finish up Nomad's "Castle" and get him worked in.... Wish me luck.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? You know where to find me.
Posted on 2017-08-08 at 15:08:53.
Edited on 2017-08-08 at 15:09:08 by Eol Fefalas
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: OOC notes
Regarding that last post... given the events transpiring with Raisa (and the unfamliarly familiar thing she's done with Fin), our quartermaster will certainly be keeping a sharp eye out for any trouble. His first scan of the streets/crowd was specifically to insure that no one got the impression he was accosting the ebon beauty and, as he leads her away (assuming she even allows him to do so) he'll continue to maintain a higher level of awareness to make sure they're not followed or otherwise beset.
Anything else depends on Raisa's actions.
Posted on 2017-08-08 at 15:04:12.
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon
Subject: Somethin' 'bout this place makes me bum itch!
With the wharf behind him and the town ahead, Fin's frustration grew by the step. In ports such as these, with a notable lack of soldiery present, he would expect the streets to be bustling and free, with more than one set of eyes willing to, at least, meet his gaze from time to time. The deeper he waded into this settlement, though, the more he came to realize that something was more than a little off and the fear by which he'd imagined the wharf-hand to be afflicted seemed epidemic. Where there weren't eyes downturned altogether, the only glances cast his way were of the cagey and cautious sort, and even those glances were excessively fleeting.
"What'n th' bloody hell's wrong with this place," he growled under his breath, his gaze chasing away yet another as he strode by. Almost absently, as the circumspection of the townsfolk felt to be seeping into his own bones, one of Fin's hands came to rest on the hilt of the cutlass at his hip and the other sought out his tobacco pouch. Perhaps another smoke would help to dull the edge being rapidly honed on his nerves until he could find a place to more properly deaden it with rum. He'd just pulled the pouch from his belt, deigning to cast a glance at the crowd in the street ahead before he set to twisting together another cigarillo. For an instant he is almost heartened when a pair of eyes looking back at him doesn't dart suddenly away, even if the ebon-skinned face in which they are set seemed to be lined with worry.
As he drew nearer, the dark-skinned woman broke from the crowd and approached, the troubled expression still playing on her dusky features. The moment she was free of the throng in which she had been standing, a spark of recognition was struck in Crowe's memory. The tobacco pouch was forgotten and returned to its place in his belt as he tried to kindle that spark into a more enlightening flame, Everything about the woman was familiar - from the hue of her skin to the way she dressed and moved - despite that familiarity, though, Fin couldn't quite place why or precisely from where it might have come. By the time the space between them had been diminished enough for her to have reached out a hand and pressed it against his chest to stop him in his tracks, the only thing he had managed to recall with any sort of certainty was a name, Raisa Taïa.
"Why are you back?" The woman's voice hissed in his ear as his gaze dipped, momentarily, to where her dainty, black hand rested close to the brand hidden beneath his shirt.
A wolfish grin had started to tug at the corners of his mouth and his eyes glinted a bit bluer as they lifted to find hers. "An' why wouldn' I be, Raisa-luv," he asked, his gravelly voice softened a bit by the smile. The hand that wasn't resting on the hilt of his blade lifted to capture hers and pry it gently away from his chest. He kept her hand trapped in his as his grin began to move slowly from wolfish to shark-like; "If I dared believe it, I'd think ya din't miss me,"
((OOC: Any reply.))
His hand tightened a bit around hers and his eyes let go of her just long enough to scan the streets around them before he began walking again, not quite forcefully hauling her along beside him as he continued his progress into the town. "Don' mind refamiliarizin' me wit' th' place, do ya, poppet?"
Posted on 2017-08-08 at 12:37:36.
|
Topic: Prometheans: Genesis (The Reboot)
Subject: Disturbed by Overwatch
March 10, 2014 20:35:00 GMT
Half a mile west and half a mile above Puerto Casado, Paraguay, South America
",He covers his hands with the lightning, and commands it to strike the mark. Its crashing tells about him; he is jealous with anger against iniquity,"
"You're repeating that Bible verse in your head again," Dweeb's voice crackled in his ear-piece, "aren't you, D?"
",His thunderings speak awesomely concerning Him; the cattle are told of His coming storm,"
"No," Preston grimaced within the confines of his helmet, "Yeah,"
"Didn't you tell me something, once, about turning things over to God instead of trying to figure them out for yourself," Dweeb's voice scratched through the perpetually underlying static.
Preston Smith's grimace wound itself into something of a smile at that; "I probably did. Have I ever told you, though, that I hate this helmet?" He didn't really hate the thing, of course. It was a rather clunky affair - it looked a bit like a heavy welders mask mashed together with bits and pieces that looked as if they could have come from one of those Stormtrooper helmets in Star Wars, or, maybe, a ‘72 Ford Maverick, - and it got a bit hot inside, especially, here, in South America but, he had to admit that the thing did manage to shield out enough of the electromagnetic disturbance that his body generated to keep the electronics within from frying out.
"Oh," Dweeb chuckled in reply as Preston reached the apex of his leap and started descending back toward the earth, "I'm sure you did. I probably wasn't listening, though. That helmet's the start of us figuring out the rest of it, Preston, my friend, just as much as that verse of yours,"
"Hubris, Dweeb?" Preston half-jokingly prodded as he plummeted earthward and started bracing himself for the impact.
"Nah, just science and engineering," the other man's voice crackled, "I'm all for God taking care of your little problem, D; just figured I'd try to help out while He was working on it." There was a low whistle over the earpiece, then; "I think you covered about four miles with that jump! Goooood hang time! You're gonna come in awful close to the town, though."
Preston's scowl returned as the ground rushed up to meet him. Dweeb was right; the small town of Puerto Casado was quickly filling his vision and the reek of the town's tannery was filtering in through his mask's breather. He thanked God that it was still the middle of the night, here, and, as such, most of the inhabitants would likely be asleep. At the same time, he offered up a little prayer asking that the small tremor to be caused by his landing wouldn't shake any of those people from their beds. "Yeah," he answered Dweeb, then, "a little close. Still in the wee hours, here, though, and I don't plan on sticking around long enough for the welcome wagon to show up,"
Despite those reassurances, however, Preston found himself tensing a bit more than he should have and gritting his teeth a bit in hopes that he might be able to somehow soften his landing and spare the locals any sort of disturbance caused by his passing,
Hubris, Preston? he chuckled inwardly as the lyrics from Street Fighting Man spun up in his mind, "Hey, said my name is called Disturbance! I'll shout and scream, I'll kill the king, I'll rail at all his servants,"
BOOOOM!!!
He hit the ground in a small field just north of Puerto Casado, winced a bit behind his helmet as he chased the tremor up to the edge of the small impact crater he'd created, and, as he gained the top, the muscles in his legs coiled and launched him skyward, again. He glanced back when he reached about 500 feet. There were a few lights flickering to life and, he thought, he saw a few people staggering sleepily out of their homes. No one looked up, though.
"Anything," Dweeb asked.
"Nothing major," Preston answered, "we're good.
Should hit the border in an hour or so."
"Affirmative. We'll have an extraction point for you at Bela Vista. How's the charge?"
"Building," Preston replied after considering the itchy-tingly-buzz that crawled just beneath the surface of his skin, "but still negligible. If I can hit Bela Vista in the next three hours and your guys can get me shielded, we shouldn't have to worry about pulsing the chopper out of the sky."
"Copy that. We'll be ready."
20:47:10 GMT - Somewhere above the State of Sao Paolo, Brazil
The past several hours had elapsed without Afton Pembroke having had to pay much attention to navigation, at all. D.A.D.D.E.'s recent telemetry and reaction control system upgrades had performed perfectly and, since he had deployed from his jet off the coast of Africa, steadily guided his flightpath to bring him in over South America on a vector from Fortaleza, south and east, toward Brasilia. Thus far, the flight had been effortless and, as such, had left him plenty of time to review the data that Project Prometheus had managed to compile on the subject he had been sent to retrieve; an A-3 dynamo that went by the moniker Disturbance.
To Pembroke's mind, the information was patchy, at best, and almost seemed to be an amalgamation of data on more than one person. The dossier named the man Preston Smith, but there were numerous other aliases associated, as well. Many of the files he accessed, too, had been heavily redacted in key areas, primarily by various government agencies, it seemed, but, in places, by other organizations outside of any known regime. All in all, it had been a bit of a jigsaw puzzle but, if all the fragmented pieces were truly applicable to the same man, this retrieval would certainly be an interesting one, particularly the bit about the uncontrolled electrical manipulation Smith was purported to be cursed with,
A bit of sypmatico and irony, that, Pembroke had thought wryly. It hadn't gone unnoticed that he and this Smith shared something of a similar affliction; he couldn't help but wonder if it hadn't cost the man what it had cost him... and, if a suit similar to D.A.D.D.E. might not provide Smith a solution as it had himself.
,Pembroke's leisurely musings over Smith and his "plight" were quickly relegated to the back of his mind when, D.A.D.D.E.'s HUD flickered and the suit's wide-range scanners picked up on an encrypted transmission.
",all for God taking care of your little problem, D; just figured I'd try to help out while He was working on it." Through the static that seemed to permeate the communique, a long low whistle was heard. Then; "I think you covered about four miles with that jump! Goooood hang time! You're gonna come in awful close to the town, though."
"Yeah," another voice responded through the electronic humming, "a little close. Still in the wee hours, here, though, and I don't plan on sticking around long enough for the welcome wagon to show up,"
"That's him," Afton said, "It has to be.
Isolate that transmission and get me a vector," he commanded the suit.
"Acknowledged," D.A.D.D.E. responded, "Triangulating."
"And do see if you can't tidy it up a bit," Pembroke requested, "That fuzz will wear a man's nerves quite thin after a time."
"Initiating audio enhancement algorithm's. Stand by."
"Anything," the first voice queried as D.A.D.D.E. began filtering out and/or compensating for any interference.
"Nothing major. We're good," returned the second voice, the static significantly reduced, now, "Should hit the border in an hour or so."
"That's the end I want the track on," Afton said, "Let's not worry about the other, as yet."
"Affirmative," D.A.D.D.E. answered, "Target acquired. Suggested intercept vector plotted."
"Affirmative. We'll have an extraction point for you at Bela Vista. How's the charge?"
"Building, but still negligible. If I can hit Bela Vista in the next three hours and your guys can get me shielded, we shouldn't have to worry about pulsing the chopper out of the sky."
"Copy that. We'll be ready."
"As will we," Overwatch muttered, scanning the telemetry data on the HUD and adjusting his course. He watched his target closely for a moment, and a number of calculations ran through his mind all at once. The neural interface with D.A.D.D.E. picked up on his thoughts and overlayed the computations.
"Open a channel to our local resources in Paraguay," he commanded, then, "Dispatch a unit to the coordinates specified."
The suit confirmed the order with little more than a beep, then, after a second; "Message relayed. Local assets deployed. ETA 17:53:06, local time."
21:58:06 GMT - Less than a kilometer south of the Paraguay-Brazil border
When he hit the ground this time, Preston didn't immediately leap skyward, once more. Instead, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and remained there, crouched down in the tiny pockmark his landing had made, trying to contain the surge of electrical energy that arced maddeningly beneath and, now, visibly across the surface of his skin,
",ston?! You oka,? ,st you in a clo,rst or som,! Pres," Dweeb's transmission was squawky and garbled, of course, but he got the gist of it and hoped the helmet was shielding his own vox-mic enough to send something acceptable back.
"Roger," he responded through clenched teeth, "I'm still here, Dweeb. That thunderstorm packed a little more kick than I expected! Might have made a liar out of me in regards to what I said about my charge, earlier. I'm feeling kind of jazzed, right now. Think I'm gonna sit here and wait for it to disperse before I get any closer to your team."
"Preston? D.. ou copy?... ome i,"
Yeah, Preston grimaced, straining to stand against the upwelling electricity, I'm on my way, Just, gimme a, minute,
",and he does not restrain the lightnings when his voice is heard,"
"Well, come on, then," Preston pleaded, lifting his eyes, if not his body, skyward, "Let it loose! Or show me how to restrain it, or, NNNnnnngggg!!!"
The surge doubled him over and he felt as if he had to lift the welders mask visor of his helmet in order to breathe, "No more than you can bear," Preston growled, forcing himself upright, once more, "The Lord gives you no more than you can bear," He let his head fall back in order to look at the sky without the visor in the way. That intended path of sight, though, was diverted by the sight of the armed and armored troops who now ringed the edge of his tiny divot, their weapons train unerringly on him. One of those troops - or, perhaps, it was someone else that Preston couldn't see - shouted out a command in Spanish, He thought it was Spanish, Can't quite make it out over this buzzing.
"No habla," he couldn't help but lie, fighting the lightning and the urge to leap out of here all at once, "Lo siento, no habla, You all really should get away from here, Muy rapido!"
"Remain still, keep your hands where we can see them, Mr. Smith," a British-accented voice cautioned him, then, "and get to your knees. We're going to manage your electrical problem for you and, then, you're coming with us. Your compliance will make the entire process much simpler."
Even as the power surge began to send crackles of light through his vision, Preston squinted in the direction of the voice, seeking the source of these new commands. He tried in vain to shake those arcing motes away when his gaze settled on a sleek but imposing onyx figure hovering in the air above him.
Posted on 2017-08-08 at 11:18:25.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Delayed a bit
Grandbaby came over and interrupted. Lol
Back to it soon.
Posted on 2017-08-07 at 18:13:39.
|
Topic: The contact form doesn't work
Subject: Nice!
FWIW, I've contacted Jon and, also, taken a quick peek at his up and coming site. Pretty nifty!
Neat to see that Floyd Hobart, RPG Mythbreakers, and Loaded Dice are tied for 15th most popular webcomics on the internet! Revival anyone?
Also, check out the site for yourself at www.tabletopfiction.net
Posted on 2017-08-07 at 12:15:56.
Edited on 2017-08-07 at 12:18:07 by Eol Fefalas
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: Back in home port!
Interesting development for Fin, there! Hmmmmmm....
Going to work on a post for Genesis, first, as I'm woefully overdue on that, but, once that's done, I'll get into addressing the appearance of Raisa.
Posted on 2017-08-07 at 09:53:01.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: I'm back!
Had a meeting this morning and a vet appointment for the pup but, now that that's all over, I've just got a few incident submissions to go through and THEN I can get back to posting.
REALLY hoping to have something up this afternoon.
Posted on 2017-08-07 at 09:50:31.
|
Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: A Night in Necessity
Necessity was a lot like any number of other small, border-world towns Sam had ever seen in his travels. Cleaner than some, seedier than others, but, names and other small details aside, one town bled into another bled into another. Early on in his days of staying on the dodge in the ‘Verse, Sam had found the sameness of the settlements monotonous but, in the years that he'd known Wyatt, he'd come to feel almost comforted by it. Pulling up in front of The Slaughter House, the pilot stepped off the mule and, letting his gaze pan over the town, drew in a deep and somewhat appreciative whiff of the air.
"Yup," he smirked, hooking his thumbs trough his belt, "smells like niufen (cows***), I like it." He turned, then, and followed Wyatt, Eagle-Eye, and the rest into the place.
"There be rules here, "Eagle said as they entered, "Kim don't put up with trouble so don't give any. You get one warning and then you are out. You are here on my word so I'd appreciate it if we kept things civilized,"
"Civil's my middle name," Dash snorted, lifting a hand to scratch at a whisker-stubbled cheek as his eyes skimmed over the place, "O' course, don't no one never call me by it."
",No fighting," Eagle continued, grinning in Wolf's direction, "Do not draw a weapon unless you hear a siren or someone yells, "reavers". Women serve food and booze here - nothing else. You looking for company, the Honeydew will do ya. Oh, if you do here sirens, there a basement there," He pointed to a trapdoor in the center of the room. "Men head to doors and window and defend, women and young'un go to basement first, then we orderly retreat. If we breached, the door is sealed and we take care of each other - you catch my meaning."
More than a little of the humor fell away from Sam's features at the mention of Reavers. He'd never come up against any, himself, but he'd heard enough stories to know that he really didn't want to, Had my druthers, I'd just as soon belly crawl nekkid through Hell, He knew, too, what Sarafina meant by "take care of each other;" it wasn't anything more than a less creepifying way of saying "we put bullets to each other's brainpans before the boogeymen get in." Just the thoughts of it started to get his twitchy itching. Dash didn't bother to comment aloud on any of the Reaver-talk, though, choosing to acknowledge the warnings/instructions with little more than a nod and a mildly disconcerted grunt. His gaze was busy, for a minute, darting here and there, identifying all the windows and doors that might need watching and, given what Sarafina had just said and the thoughts it had started spinning in his brain, Sam became a little less comfortable with The Slaughterhouse's name, his fingertips brushed the grips of his pistol without him actually have willed them to do so,
"Oh. Well good for Ernest,"
Dash's attentions were snatched back to Eagle-Eye and the rest as their host began making introductions to the group of poker-players to whose table the crew had just drawn up. He offered a nod, a "hey," and/or a handshake where appropriate as they were introduced but, beyond that, didn't go much farther with the pleasantries.
",And this is Jeremiah, another cattle rancher," Eagle-Eye said, getting around to the last man at the table, "We got a lot of them in these parts."
"Hello!" Jeremiah beamed as if he'd struck gold; his gaze fixed directly on Wolf.
Beneath the bandana tied around his head, one of Dash's eyebrows lifted quizzically and he couldn't help but wonder what this Jeremiah fellow might be giving the big mechanic the googly-eye for. His mouth started to fall open as if to interject some kind of crude commentary about Wolfy having found a boyfriend but, when Eagle clapped Wyatt on the shoulder and pointed the Captain's attention to Potter, Sam forgot what he might have been about to say and let his eyes follow, too.
"That there," Eagle said, pointing to an older man in a tweed suit, "is Saul Potter. I can take you over to him if you like and introduce you - before we start a new hand. Or if you'd like to join the game - Ernest's good fortune can be yours as well. We don't play big money, we just like a social game. He is likely to be there all night. We can grab a couple of chairs if you boys want to join. The more the bigger the pot."
"It's been somethin' of a day, Eagle," Wyatt answered after a moment's contemplation, "an' yer likely wantin' t' kick yer boots up an' have a good time fer a bit. I don't mind a game o' cards every now and again. What's the game?"
(OOC: Answer)
"Well," Wyatt pushed his hat back on his head and raised his brow. "If'n there's room at the table you can deal me in." Looking at his remaining crew, Wyatt gave the nod, releasing them into the wilds of the saloon.
Dash offered a nod of his own in response and, for an instant, gave thought to joining the card game, himself. It could be an opportunity to add to the little bit of cash he'd already scrimped together to pay back the "debt" he owed Asher, on the other hand, it could be just as much an opportunity for him to lose that same bankroll and have nothing left but empty pockets and another few months of listening to the Kid piss and moan over guns he didn't truly need anyway, Yeah, he mused, his attentions drifting away from the table, Ain't listenin' ta that any longer'n I have to.
The pilot's eyes and ears found their way back to the conversation between Wolf and that excitable Jeremiah fellow, then, and, as it turned out, Wolf hadn't found himself a boyfriend, after all. Instead, from what he was hearing of the chatter, Jeremiah was trying to talk Wolf into some kind of "fight night" the Slaughterhouse was having. Wanted the mechanic to go up against some wang bah duhn as called himself Black Bart, it seemed. Wolf, as usual, was full of questions, so the banter went on for a bit of a spell,
Sam had really only been listening to see if Fenris was going to take the fight or not but fell quickly out of that absent-minded eavesdropping when Jeremiah looked over at him and Asher, "You guys could get in if you work a day for Eagle here. But Bart is heavy, about as big as you and Patience has him training all the time. Calls it hand work but we all know it is all Go Sa."
"I'm shiny," Sam scoffed, raising his hands, "I like a good tussle, puhn yoh, but t'night, I'm more up fer a grapple, er at least a wrestle wit' a good bottle o' hooch, get me? ‘Preciate th' offer, though,"
He clapped Wolf on the shoulder, then. "Good luck wit' th' fisticuffs, Wolfy," he grinned, "oncet ya get done hemmin' an' hawin' over it, lemme know when yer gonna fight, huh?"
Dash, letting his hand fall away from the big man's shoulder, nodded at Jeremiah; "Good ta've met ya. I'm off ta wet m'whistle an', mebbe, scare up some poozle." With a grin and a wink, the pilot strode off for the bar.
"What'll ya have," Kim asked as Sam drew up to the bar and rested his elbows on the counter.
"Whiskey," Dash answered, "make it a double."
"Ice?"
"Neat."
"Can do," the barman shot back, producing a bottle and a glass from under the counter and pouring a healthy sample.
"Xie xie," Sam nodded taking up the drink. He turned, then, and leaned against the bar, content for the moment to nurse his whiskey and watch the room.
Posted on 2017-08-01 at 13:25:23.
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon
Subject: Suit yerself!
Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), roughly 10:45 A.M.; The Wharf
Staring at the proffered coin, the wharf-hand's brow furrows into a webwork of crisscrossed lines deepened by a lifetime of weather abuse. Sticking his pipe abruptly into his mouth with a click of clay to tooth, he says nothing further to Fin, but pushes from the barrels and walks slowly away. After a few feet of this casual strolling, the man retrieves his pipe and taps it completely out before slipping it into a pocket of his trousers. He doesn't grant the Dog's quartermaster another look as he sets about his duties once again. The best, Crowe can hope for at this point is that he'll keep his mouth shut merely because that's what people do who wish to live.
"Aye. Fine," Fin grumbles, tapping the edge of the coin on the top of the rum barrel as the wharf-hand moves away, "Per'aps we'll offer it ta yer wife, then, fer somethin' more entertainin' than jus' information." The Dog's quartermaster pushes away from the barrels, himself, then, and, slipping the refused silver back into his belt, turns and strides back up the wharf towards the town.
Given the hand's reaction, Fin didn't imagine that any of the other workers along the quay would be any more forthcoming. Something in the man's eyes spoke of more than just skepticism toward the proffered bribe, fear, perhaps, though, not necessarily fear of Fin. Fear, instead, it seemed, of something or someone with a much broader, farther reaching influence than what a gruff pirate quartermaster might have. A well-heeled merchant who had cultivated his money into power over the town, maybe, or a British-installed governor positioned to stake and hold the crown's claim on the island and the waters surrounding it. Crowe's gaze, bluer and darker than the Mediterranean, squinted toward the fort as he clomped up the pier and contemplated the wharf-hand's reluctance.
"Always someone a' th' top dumpin' their pot on th' heads o' those b'neath," he rumbled under his breath, shouldering his way through a knot of workers and sailors on the dock, "Prob'ly's got a lash an' a leash fer each o' these.
No matter. There's always someone in ev'ry port tha'll respond ta silver over shackles, jus' th' matter o' ferretin' ‘em out."
((OOC: Crowe will keep a weather-eye out for anyone along the docks that seems likely to provide info and, if he spots a likely candidate, he'll stop to engage. Otherwise, he'll proceed along the wharf and into town until he comes upon the One Eyed Parrot (or whatever tavern/grog-shop he might come upon first.))
Posted on 2017-08-01 at 08:18:37.
Edited on 2017-08-01 at 08:18:58 by Eol Fefalas
|
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Not lost...
...just misplaced by RL.
Working on a post. Should have it tacked up soon.
Posted on 2017-08-01 at 08:05:37.
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: Busy weekend...
...kept me from getting much done in the way of posts. I'm working on updates, now, however. Should have something soon.
Posted on 2017-07-31 at 10:47:03.
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: Reality Bites!
Or so they say.
I'm good with the results (disappointed, of course, but good all the same).
Working on getting updates for Prometheans and Rocinante finished... once those are in the can, I'll get an update for Fin in the works.
Posted on 2017-07-28 at 10:17:06.
|
Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: Well crap!
Now Fin's gotta kill the wharf hand!
Should've went with intimidation I suppose.
Posted on 2017-07-27 at 19:31:18.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Nasib and Penumbra...
...aren't the only members of the team.
Penumbra is in the Carnival standing just ahead of Brea.
Nasib and Christianson have taken positions at either side of the top of the ramp (inside). Henson and Elder have assumed similar positions at the bottom of the ramp (outside).
Posted on 2017-07-26 at 20:53:42.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Yep...
...the Carnival's not gonna take off with the ramp open and 2/5 of the team standing outside.
Posted on 2017-07-26 at 20:27:03.
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Okay...
...an update for Penumbra and Lightning is on the board!
(About darn time, Eol!)
Updates for the rest coming shortly.
A note or two about this update:
1) The "report" filed at the beginning of the post wouldn't have been overheard by either Penumbra or Lightning.
2) I've updated a post called Recovery/Extraction Teams on pg 1 of this QA thread. There's a picture there to give you an idea of what the Carnival looks like.
3) Any other questions, post 'em here or PM me!
Next up... Overwatch and Disturbance.
Posted on 2017-07-26 at 15:05:17.
|
Topic: Prometheans: Genesis (The Reboot)
Subject: Penumbra and Lightning
Tuesday, July 4, 2017 - 18:16:50 GMT
In a field to the NE of U of M, Ann Arbor, MI, USA
This acquisition had been a rarity, to say the least. It wasn't the first time in the Project's history that a metahuman had willingly turned themselves over or, at least, been taken without a fight, but such occurrences were few and far enough between that, when they did transpire, even the newest members of an extraction team took note and the higher-ups in the Project were notified almost instantly, the higher-ups were always extremely interested in "volunteers," after all. So it was that, as Penumbra and her team escorted Brea Williams to where the Carnival awaited, a preliminary Situation Report was sent up the chain,
~Delta Sigma Three - Three: SitRep on Subject: Williams, Brea. File #: 18056~
~Proceed, DS3-3.~
~Subject in custody. No resistance. Relocating her to the Carnival, now. ETA five minutes~
~No resistance, eh? Interesting. We might have thought she'd have, at least, tried to run.
~She thought about it, Control, Had thoughts about lighting us up, too, Neither happened. Penumbra smooth talked her into "volunteering."~
~So, no gauge on her A-Scale, then?~
~Aside from the estimate from the MARSH and what I was able to glean from that momentary flicker; no. ~
~Understood. Has she been neutralized?~
~Not as yet. I believe Penumbra's holding off on that until we're aboard, Doesn't want to scare her off, I suppose.~
~,Ah, I see, Well, see to it that she is, Mr Henson, Before the Carnival is in the air. Don't let Ms Synklar's "friendliness" supersede protocol.~
~Yes, ma'am. Subject will be appropriately contained before dust off. I'll see to it.
~I'm certain you will. See you when you get home, Mr Henson.~
~See you, then, Victoria.~
A few minutes later,
Even though the curiously friendly girl who had introduced herself as "Penumbra" walked at her side, Brea couldn't help but feel as if she was surrounded, somehow. Two of Penumbra's team mates walked several steps ahead of them, the other two several steps behind, and, for the duration of the walk from campus, none of them had said a word save for Penumbra, herself, who seemed always to have a response but didn't go out of her way to initiate conversation, At least until the group had broached the edge of a broad field off of Green Street.
"Now," Penumbra smiled reassuringly, noting the confused and increasingly suspicious expression on Brea's face, "don't be freaked out by what you're about to see. It's not as weird as it looks, I promise."
"Uh, Yeah," Brea replied. Her own smile was slightly nervous and more than a little skeptical. "Sure, What's there to be freaked out over, anyway, right?"
Ahead of them, nearing the middle of the field, Brea heard one of the lead, what were they? Agents? Operatives?, team members make a call over an unseen comm-line. "Condor, this is DS3-1; ready to come aboard." The lead pair stopped walking.
Brea couldn't quite make out the reply that came back but, whatever it was, it had caused the Middle-Eastern man (Nasib, was it?) to glance somewhat warily back at her before responding; "Negative; she's a vol. Yellow protocol will do. ID's and a Halo."
"Affirmative, 3-1," Brea heard the tinny acknowledgement as they drew nearer to where the lead ‘agents' stood waiting, "Stand clear."
When Penumbra's hand reached out and landed on her shoulder to still her, Brea was barely able to suppress the urge to flinch. She managed, though, and let out a mildly anxious chuckle instead; her eyes risking a backward glance, confirming that the agents behind them had, also, come to a stop,
Yeah, she repeated to herself, nothing to be freaked out by, here.
,When the college student's gaze panned back around, it was just in time to see the air ahead of them shimmer faintly, arcs of silvery energy tracing a large but vague shape in the midst of the field. Brea blinked and her mouth fell open as the sweeping energy field dissipated to reveal a large aircraft, the likes of which she had never seen before, squatting in the field before them.
"That's our ride," Penumbra said as the back of the massive, gray craft's underside opened to reveal a loading ramp leading to its interior.
"Oh," was all Brea could manage. She stood there gawking for a long moment, watching as Nasib and the other "lead agent" strode up the gangplank and took up positions at the top, one on either side.
"Like I said," she heard Penumbra say, "it's not as weird as it looks. Don't freak out. You ready?"
Brea wasn't entirely sure she was but, nevertheless, nodded faintly. "Y-yeah," she answered, her feet moving her toward the ramp. She was aware of Penumbra walking beside her and the "trailing agents" following in their wake, but it wasn't until Brea found herself at the top of the ramp, blinking at the decidedly hi-tech interior of the craft, that she even thought to glance at any of them, and she only thought it when she realized that Penumbra was no longer standing beside her but moving forward into the bay.
"Stand right there for a minute," the dark-haired girl said, moving past twin rows of five egg-shaped pods that lined either side of the rear of the bay. She stopped, just past the pods, and from the sound of it, opened a compartment mounted in the bulkhead just outside of Brea's field of vision.
"Again," Penumbra said, closing the compartment and turning back toward Brea, "Don't freak. This isn't as weird as it looks,"
As the young Prometheus Agent strode back toward her, Brea glanced back over her shoulder and noted that the two "trailing agents" had yet to come up the ramp. Instead, they had taken up positions at the bottom of it, one on either side, as if they were standing guard.
"Hands, please?"
"Huh?" Brea's head swiveled back around to find Penumbra standing in front of her with a trio of curious looking rings in her hands. Two of the rings were smallish - about the size of manacles but not connected to each other in any visible fashion - the third was considerably larger.
"Hands," Penumbra repeated casually, tucking the larger ring under her arm as she snapped open the two smaller ones and held them out. "Nothing to worry about," she smiled, "just protocol, for your protection and ours. They'll take them off again when we get where we're going,"
Posted on 2017-07-26 at 14:59:07.
Edited on 2017-07-26 at 15:06:42 by Eol Fefalas
|
Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: LOL
The puppy is napping (and feeling much better... ate something that didn't agree with him, I'm guessing, and had a terrible case of the poops and pukes for a couple days) and work has been mercifully quiet this morning. *knocks on wood*
In the process of writing, now.
Posted on 2017-07-26 at 10:27:21.
|
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Pondering...
...what Sam might get up to. He's not much of a gambler (although, he does owe the Kid for some pilfered guns) but he might just be interested in the fisticuffs that're to transpire... I'll give it some though and have a post in the works soonishly!
Posted on 2017-07-26 at 08:59:22.
|
| |
View/Edit Your Profile | Staff List | Contact Us
Use of the RDINN forums or chatrooms constitutes agreement with our Terms of Service.You must enable cookies and javascript to use all features of this site.
|
|
What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
