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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject:


Blasted Navy! Kept Giddy from being able to post. That's OK, I've moved the story on. I'm looking forward to everyone's next posts. Keeper, check your PM for some details on things Ghlahn might be considering. Please, everyone, consider the timestamps as you're posting. Kepper is the furthest behind and by default that means Vegas. Espatier is the furthest ahead. Once we finish this firefight for Keeper—if Ghlahn's still alive—I'll do a quick time sweep and bring everyone current.



Posted on 2019-01-22 at 18:01:07.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject:


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


 


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


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


 


Approaching what appears to be the opening, a growling voice rolls from inside, “Just ‘cause I don’t live in no fancy conapt don’t mean I can’t defend myself. Roll on, ‘less you want some new holes t’ breathe through.”


 


"Fair enough," Fixer says as he comes to a halt. "I don't need any more holes and I don't think my companions do either. We do, however, need a place to work quietly for a very brief period of time. This place may not be fancy, as you said, but we would like to rent it from you for an hour. No holes needed for anyone. We will give you a few credits and you just go for a walk for a while. Easy money. Easy money and nobody gets holes. What do you say?"  At this Fixer fishes some a handful of Night City Dollars from his pocket and holds them up as bait.


 


Silence follows for a moment before the flap of the moldy blue tarp is pulled aside by the barrel of an older model .380 handgun. Just past the weapon, in the shadows of the makeshift tent the dirty and prematurely aged face of an Asian man with overgrown hair and shaggy black facial hair hiding most of his features. Hungry eyes flicker from the breathing mask and the kind eyes of the Techie to the wad of cash in his outstretched hand.


 


“Not enough,” the Asian man growls. “You’d pay more than that for a hotel room for just one hour. Here you have privacy. Fifty’ll give you a half hour.”


 


Thinking that the asking price might be a little high, Fixer doesn’t feel the urge to argue. Fishing some more of the brightly colored bills from his pocket, the techie offers them up. Crouching beneath the low-hanging awning, the middle-aged Asian shuffles from within his tent, pulling a moldy discolored bomber’s jacket tighter about his slight frame as he does. Snatching the money from James’ hand, the smelly little man proceeds to count it out before stuffing it deep into his oil-stained jeans pocket.


 


“One half-hour,” he sniffs. “Don’t touch nothin’ and don’t steal nothin’.”


 


Casting a ferocious bulging eye at each of them as he passes by, the street urchin makes his way back the way the party had come.


 


With the resident of the shelter on his way down the alley and out of sight, those on technology duty disappear inside the shelter. James “Fixer” Mathis turns to Casino and remarks, "Back on homeless guard duty, I guess."


 


Heading back up the alley a bit, the techie looks for a place providing at least a little cover and attempts to conceal himself in a way that makes him look like a napping homeless person. Wet biodegradable cardboard boxes, bio-plastic bags, screamsheets… whatever could be used as solid cover has been. Fixer’s resigned to creating a place upon the remnants of a box that isn’t disgusting to sit upon and pulling some other debris over him to create the ruse.


 


Casino once again follows Fixer’s lead, doing as he does and finding a place to stand guard without being seen while being mistaken for one of the wretches living in this corridor. As he works, he hopes that they find something to lead them to the boy they had, up to this point, no luck in finding.


 


Breaking into the big man’s thoughts, Fixer addresses his fellow faux homeless guard, "When they are done, we still need to ditch that stuff. The sewer below may work. It looked deep and if we could find even a semi-intact box it might float 1/2 a block or more away from the entrance. The further the better."


 


(OOC: Casino’s answer&hellip


 


As Casino keeps a close eye on their surroundings, his mind drifts to Vegas and Ghlahn, hoping both are ok.


 


“Oh, this is ripe,” Blossom frowns at the conditions of the damp interior. Holding her pocket flashlight in hand, she sweeps the dingy bedding and small shopping cart filled with odds and ends searching for a place to sit comfortably. “The price of a studio sure doesn’t buy what it used to.”


 


Twisting about and dropping her bag in the corner closest to the wall, the small woman manages to land on her buttocks with the tails of her coat beneath her, protecting her bare legs from touching anything beneath her. Setting the small, agent-sized box that she had procured from the office building on her crossed calves, Blossom retrieves one of her sets of interface wires and proceeds to connect.


 


“Keep that light decently covered,” Echo mutters from where she is hunching by the entrance. Peering through the gap, she scans the alleyway beyond. “Don’t want to give any reason for someone to come knocking at the door.”


 


Sitting between them, Bloodbank is silent as he settles in to watch.


 


“I’ll not need it at all right about… now,” the wardriver switches the flashlight off immediately drowning her companions in darkness.


 


Purple hues bleed across everything in the cramped interior as the red neon lights at the mouth of the alley penetrate the blue tarp overhead. Even with this dim light, the bulky shadows of each of the Edgers are difficult to pierce. Details are lost, motions imperceptible, and features a mask of ambiguity. Time would be a lost concept in this dreamland except for the digital clock present in the Runners optic splices. Two-minutes transform into three, three meld into five, and five drip slowly away until nearly ten minutes have passed. A tiny “harrumph” emitted by the netrunner raises hope that she’s done before she returns to her work without explanation. More minutes pass, more smells worm their way through the mask filters and cloth balaclava wrapped about the nomad’s face. Finally, at what seems to be the limit of the time they have purchased, Blossom spreads her hands wide enough to see in the mirky dark.


 


“All done!” she pleasantly chirps. A barely perceptible click floats through the purple air and her shadow-washed form shifts about until she’s on her booted feet hunched over. “Let’s go before we wind up with lice or something.”


 


Echo isn’t arguing and slips out through the flap and away from the urban tent a few paces, balaclava covered face turning towards one end of the alley and then the other.


 


Teaming up with the Fixer and Casino, Echo, Blossom, and Bloodbank huddle together near one of the walls.


 


“There are eight people from Upstairs Downstairs that were on duty the night the kid disappeared,” Blossom explains, holding up the small computer box for emphasis. “They didn’t have a log as to who worked what buildings but I was able to cross reference the security camera footage with the employee pictures and narrowed that down to three who were in the same building as Jace’s dorm. So, we’ve got three possibles. I’ve got their addresses from the employee files.”


 


“About frackin’ time we get some forward momentum,” Echo breathes. “Heads up. Our landlord is back.”


 


Rounding the corner, bathed in the sharp red hues of the light, the Asian man limps towards the group of Edgerunners. “You need any more time? Double the price for the next half hour.”


 


(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 04:05 AM PST)


 


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


 


Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:09 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)


 


From off to Ghlahn’s front left the sound of automatic weapons fire is immediately accompanied by the high pitched ring of rounds striking metal as twenty to thirty rounds pepper the vehicles over and around him. These are followed by more of the same. Glass breaks, the vehicle covering the Corpore Steel soldier is dancing with the barrage but so’s the yellow sports next to him.


 


With his eyes still on the targets by the pillar, Ghlahn spots the other soldier in the area pop up and spray rounds his way with a submachine gun while more rounds come in from the left. Oil begins to drain from multiple holes in the engine block overhead spattering down on Ghlahn like dirty rain. Sparks fly and whistling bullets strike right near Alex’s head spitting fragments of cement into his combat mask like tiny bugs against a motorcycle helmet windscreen.


 


His situation has changed. Six seconds have passed since he started shooting and already Ghlahn feels that he may have eliminated three of the potentially eight from the fight but his left side is now definitely under siege and their reactive barrage of fire is quickly going to be replaced by a more strategic assault.


 


In the last 10 seconds things have gone to hell. Three of the security forces are down but that leaves perhaps five still in the fight and automatic weapon fire is shredding the car above him.  


"Last chance,” Ghlahn calls out as he shifts about to get into a better position, sparks and shards of cement flying about, “no one has died yet. You guys grab your wounded buddies and pull back and it might just stay that way."


 


He knows there is little chance they will take him up on the offer but he figures it can’t hurt to try.  Knowing his spot is fully compromised, Ghlahn works quickly. Angling his body he seeks to target the two agents hiding to his left behind the red skull painted car. Even in a firefight it is interesting what he notices.


 


Twisting about underneath his cover, the Cee-Metal man squeezes the trigger on his Colt and watches in satisfaction as the man across the hood of the black mid-size car flails backwards to fall between the vehicles and out of sight.


 


From approximately the eleven o’clock hour on the directional dial, automatic fire sprays the hood and grill of the gas guzzler overhead spilling oil and other fluids as well as broken and rusted metal down on Ghlahn’s back. More rounds smack into the front left paneling and blowing out the tire.


 


Sighting in on the next target, Ghlahn squeezes off another shot just as the man begins to drop below the hoodline, jerking his helmeted head down out of sight as his incendiary round sparks through the metal.


 


Silence drapes the garage and Ghlahn scans the scene for any available shots; finding none.


 


“You’re a right beast!” a new voice calls from up the garage a ways. “But you’re not getting out of here alive. You’ve signed your death warrant. You realize that?”


 


No gunfire follows the call. Just the sounds of the street below.


 


(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:09 AM PST)


 


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


 


the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:07 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)


Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)


 


Spotting a descent position beneath a streetlamp and in front of a semicircular building face with four stories of glass facing the street, Luther pulls over and stops the vehicle, allowing the winds of the hover turbines the settle and the jeep to slowly lower to street level.


 


Luther sighs. “Fine... but I find this unnecessary as I'm trying to home. Thank you, Dispatch."


 


<= Very well, sir. =>


 


Behind him, the patrol car swings its nose out towards the street for an easier departure, blues and reds still flashing, reflecting both off of the wet street and the windows of the buildings around them.


 


Luther rechecks his I.D. and keeps his hands on the dash so that they can be seen as well as the I.D. and waits for the officer to speak to him. Choosing to dial Hui Yin, just in case something goes south.


 


<= Hello? Mr. Charlie? Is that you? Why are you calling me so early? This is not cool. =>


 


Luther explains that he is getting pulled over and want her on the line to listen in.


 


<= You call me at five in the morning because you want me to listen in? I was on a beach with Pan Feng and you ruined it, Mr. Charlie. =>


 


In the side view mirror, Cred Stick Charlie witnesses the officer—fully armored in riot gear—approaching on the building-side.


 


“License and registration, please.”


 


(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:08 AM PST)



Posted on 2019-01-22 at 17:58:03.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


Thanks for the post, MagicMan!



Posted on 2019-01-22 at 15:57:21.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


Excellent! 



Posted on 2019-01-21 at 13:58:30.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


I've restarted us. Looking forward to your posts.



Posted on 2019-01-20 at 19:44:05.

Topic: Star Trek: Hidden Depths
Subject:


Stardate: 2365.03.29 (Sunday - 42031.4)


USS George Washington Carver, Bridge, Deck 1 - 1051 Alpha Shift



“Mister McGinty,” Captain Rouhani rises from her chair and steps forward placing herself next to her XO. “Continue to work on those scans. Mr. Wilhelm, assign someone to work on augmenting the scans to gain better penetration. Mr. Cole, please get the WaveRider underway.”


“Aye, sir,” Max nods and turns to the turbo lift. “Let’s go, folks.”


Confident that the preassigned away team will follow, Cmdr. Cole strides to the lift and turns to await his team. The walk to the ventral side is filled with conversational conjecture. Without knowing what is deflecting the scans, how can we prepare the WaveRider for the worst? Is there anything that we should bring with us that we haven’t considered? What proposals can we put on the table for our approach? Do we have any probes aboard the WaveRider?


This conversation continues into the specialized shuttlecraft. Stepping aside to allow Lt. Falcone to move into the pilot seat. Siric takes his place flight ops station, Sari Uhnari takes science station 1, Lt. Draci stands at science station 2, Lt. Wilhelm at flight engineering, Stark takes a seat at the sensor station, which leaves the auxiliary station to Cole.


“Mr. Falcone,” Max calls forward, “Take us out. Bring us within a few kilometers of the outter atmosphere. Mr. Uhnari and Lt. Wilhelm, please prepare a probe. We need to see into that atmosphere or we’ll never be able to land this bird.”



Posted on 2019-01-20 at 19:43:36.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


Anyone else? If not, I'll continue with those that I have.



Posted on 2019-01-19 at 23:38:45.

Topic: Bogus Innmates
Subject:




Posted on 2019-01-19 at 21:13:34.

Topic: New Year Resolution
Subject: New Year Resolution


So... ya... was there, like, a mass New Year Resolution to stop all activity at the Inn? If so, I didn't get the memo. Where is everyone?



Posted on 2019-01-16 at 10:43:30.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


That's three (Giddy has expressed an interest in continuing). May I have another?



Posted on 2019-01-15 at 10:45:18.

Topic: Bogus Innmates
Subject:


I hope you saved the link, Tann, because I killed him.



Posted on 2019-01-15 at 10:44:33.

Topic: Star Trek: Veiled Chimera Q&A
Subject:


Consider this a seasonal break.  We're all rooting for you, Olan.



Posted on 2019-01-14 at 12:10:09.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


I'm going to attempt to email the other players and see if they are interested in continuing. If not... well, I guess that's that.



Posted on 2019-01-14 at 12:04:02.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A
Subject:


Thank you, but I don't see that happening. I haven't done anything professionally in years.



Posted on 2019-01-14 at 12:03:15.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject:


Excellent. Thank you. I need a post from Tann and Giddy. I know Giddy is working graveyard shifts right now so I might end up posting for him. I'll check with him and see what he needs me to do. The Navy should not interfere with our game time!!! 



Posted on 2019-01-14 at 11:58:02.

Topic: Bogus Innmates
Subject:


Killed 'em.



Posted on 2019-01-14 at 11:55:56.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


Excellent. That's a start. Any others?



Posted on 2019-01-10 at 11:13:28.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A
Subject:


Righteous. I'll let you know when it happens.



Posted on 2019-01-10 at 11:13:14.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A
Subject:


I'm pleased. Maybe when I finally publish a book you'll pick one up.



Posted on 2019-01-09 at 16:07:37.

Topic: Star Trek Hidden Depths Q&A
Subject:


OK. No sign of Crowe. I've emailed him a couple of times without reply, PM'd him, and am sad to say that I've had no replies. As such, is anyone interested in me taking over this sim? I'd keep the captain in play as well as Cole. If we have enough people, I'll start the game moving again.



Posted on 2019-01-09 at 14:54:59.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A
Subject:


Thank you for the compliment, Breebles, but everyone has their own style of writing. That's all there is to it.


I have updated the game for Lanur. please keep in mind that he's a gruff, impolite, man of the wilderness who rarely deals with people directly. Nothing he has said is meant to be an insult to any player or the GM. This should be my standard disclaimer.



Posted on 2019-01-09 at 14:53:09.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Game
Subject:


Bland and pasty, heavy on potatoes and leeks, the stew is messily devoured by the woodsman as soon as the bowls are placed in front of him. Head bent over the crockery, Lanur barely pays any attention to the conversation taking place around him. People are too loud when they should be taking advantage of the feast in front of them. Animals take the opportunity to eat when it presents itself because they don't necessarily know when or where their next meal will come from. The fur and leather-clad man is of such a mind. 


 "I... I am unsure... I spent all morning with my Millae, trying to provide comfort and the guards did not tell us much. It isn't much of a secret, though, that Millae and a young Whitecloak were getting... rather close..." Mistress Velalin pauses here, a slight scowl twisting her tearstreaked face. It is only a brief pause, however, and Mistress Velalin picks up again, her voice a little stronger.  "I would bet my last copper that has swayed opinions."


Stalling the delivery of yet more stew into his gaping mouth, Lanur Dinas tunes his ears so that he might hear more. Whitecloaks are like snared badgers, crazy and unpredictable with the ability to wield dangerous power. The woodsman makes great strides to steer clear of them; a task he has been quite successful with his whole life. Aes Sedai and Whitecloaks in the same city... no wonder there are troubles. Willfully pushing the morsel of food into his mouth, Lanur chews thoughtfully. One of the witches dead and one of the Children involved with the suspect while the witless ruler suspects a young girl of doing the deed.


A short chuckle bursts from his chest and sprays a few small chunks of potato from his lips. Shaking his mane of hair in disbelief, the wild man returns to shoveling food into his mouth. Even a simpleton can put this one together. Best that I be far from here when this mess boils over.


"Was your daughter acting strangely..."


Snatching one of his ales up, Lanur sucks down three large gulps before setting the mug back on the table with a loud thunk. Allowing the bubble of air to rise in his chest, he strikes his sternum once and lets out a surprisingly loud belch. Shaking his shoulders and head the way a horse would when antagonized by an annoying fly, the woodsman immediately sets into his meal again.  


"...scared out of her stockings by the guardsmen restricting her to our home, she seemed unworried. Normally she'd be... she'd be worried sick about keeping Nelelle Sedai waiting..." Mistress Velalin pauses, the scowl on her face shifting to a worried frown as she considers the revelation.


With a clatter, Cho'Ra cast her spoon down into her nearly empty bowl, a small sigh escaping her lips as she adopts a polite smile. “Bowman, please do excuse my intrusion here—”


Initially captured by the sudden unladylike gesture, Lanur returns his attention and his thoughts to his meal once he's sure she isn't about to crazily attack. Lifting the bowl to his lips, the cleanliness of his mustaches and beard being damned, Lanur drains the dredges into his gullet and practically drops the bowl to the table before scooting the second into place and piercing the thick surface with his spoon.


"—it is... difficult to talk about." Velalin tries to smile at Cho'Ra, but with her red eyes and blotched face, it is more of a grimace.


As Cho'Ra continues to comfort Mistress Velalin, Za'ahrat leans forward and fixes the tragic woman with a piercing violet gaze, "Mistress Velalin," the Aes Sedai says, "perhaps you can begin by telling us about your daughter and the Aes Sedai. Begin wherever you like."


Eyes narrowed, Dinas casts a quick look at the silky-voiced woman. He is barely capable of suppressing the hackles rising on the nape of his neck. With his immediate needs being fulfilled and the chance for a little exercise no longer distracting him, the athletic man takes full stock of the bearing that this woman has. Like a swan with a birdsong's voice. Nobility? If so, which of these others be her guard? Him? Maybe... maybe more than one. What if the little one there is the cygnet to the swan and these others are their contingent? She called him, Bowman. They are not close, though I've seen enough t' know that servants are rarely close to their masters.


"She... She was of the Yellow Ajah," stammers Mistress Velalin, "and although rumors indicate that she was very proficient at healing she evidently had... difficulties with the healing of Lord Rain. As for Millae... She is such a sweet girl. When she was younger, she would bring home injured birds or other animals, determined to nurse them back to health. Until she was brought into the service of Nelelle Sedai, she assisted me at the tailor shop I run. She is such a beautiful young woman." Mistress Velalin perked up at that, looking almost fiercely proud. "She had any choice of suitors, why she picked that Whitecloak, I shall never understand! He is--"


Repressing a shudder at the mention of the Whitecloak again, Lanur uses his fingers to pick up a plump carrot and shove it into his mouth. Get out. Leaving it be. That's the best.


Mistress Velalin stops short as the Innkeeper walks up. Behind him stands two burly men with telltale scars that make them out as the Inn's personal guards. All three of them are carrying cudgels and looking grim but determined. Ignoring the others sitting around the table, the Innkeeper focused on Mistress Velalin. "Mistress Velalin, Teni tells me that these strangers seem to be troubling you. Shall I escort them out?"


Mistress Velalin blinks, obviously surprised. "Master Masteon, that's not necessary." She replies, her voice hoarse from the sobbing. "These kind strangers have offered to help free Millae. I'm... I'm just answering any questions they have."


Master Masteon visible relaxes, and as he eyes all those around the table, he begins to blush. "Oh," He says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down bashfully. "Oh, my. I see... That... Well... I'm glad to hear that, Mistress Velalin. We're terribly sorry to have interrupted... You know that everyone here at the Gleeman's Abode is with you. No one here believes for a second that Millae did... well, no one believes what the guards say. And if they do," he adds forcefully. "Then they won't be here much longer. If there is anything that we can do for you, Mistress Velalin, don't hesitate to ask." With on more embarrassed look at the group, Master Masteon turns and shoos the toughs away, scurrying back behind the bar.


"And what if they are bothering me with their constant yammering?" Lanur calls after him with a huff. Not waiting to even see if there's an answer or a response from the others at the table, he practically dives face first into the bowl.


With a soft sniff, Mistress Velalin addresses the group, "I... Please. Please, if you can save her... Thank you... I... I am very tired and I just wish to return to my bed. If you have everything you need from me, please, I would like to take my leave."


"This Whitecloak she was seeing. What is his name?" One of the other men continues the questioning.


(OOC: Velalin's answer.)


"Does he know of Millae's situation?" the man continues.


(OOC: Velalin's answer.)


"You have given the impression that he might be involved, or that this relationship might be a reason why Millae was accused.  Why? And do you have any idea what has brought Whitecloaks to this town? Are they here often?" More question flow from the man.


(OOC: Velalin's answer.)


"The Lord's son died?" the man confirms. "Is there a reason his death would be linked to Millae's trial? Is it more than just the Lord being in a black mood? Is it just that the Aes Sedai was trying to heal him?"


Now, Lanur is exasperated. "Blood and ashes!" he growls while leaning forward so as to look the inquisitive man in the face. "I've not been able to eat in peace as my ears are filled with this simpering. Maybe if I were to draw it out in the mud, the case might be clearer.


"The girl was tending the Aes Sedai who was caring for the young lord. From all accounts, the witch was the only one keeping the little lordling alive so with her death the natural result is the lord's demise. The girl is in bed with the light-blinded fool of a Whitecloak, so he's in a prime position to set the whole thing in motion. 


"He likely has the girl's routine with the witch memorized and knows what she's fed and when. Would be a simple matter to either convince the girl to deposit some poison or to sabotage the girl's offering with poison. Then the Tar Valon Witch's death is blamed on the girl by the wooden-headed buffoon of a ruler and the Light-forsaken Whitecloaks get off without even being looked at.


"A blind baby goat could have put this together. The only one who seems to be not guilty of anything is this poor woman." Lanur tips his mug towards Mistress Velalin, spilling some of its contents over the side. "The lot of you would do well to follow my lead; eat your meal, get some rest, and then leave the boneheaded behaviors of city folk to the city folk.


"Now, mayhaps I can eat in peace? Hmmm?"


Gruffly turning back to his meal, Lanur Dinas frowns into his stew and then takes a deep breath as he snatches up the spoon once more to begin his excavation.



Posted on 2019-01-09 at 14:51:18.
Edited on 2019-01-09 at 16:01:14 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject:


It could be. Breathing in the fumes of the alcohol isn't exactly healthy and could result in a "high" feeling but Fixer came up with an idea that the NPCs agreed with, so you're off the hook.


I've advanced the game. Looking forward to everyone's posts. As usual, if you have questions, let me know.



Posted on 2019-01-07 at 10:53:28.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject:


The Alley Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:35 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)


 


Arriving at the bottom of the ladder, Echo grits her teeth and stares in revulsion at the swirling brackish liquid awaiting her. She has no idea how deep the muck is and is fairly certain that there are things floating in it that no human being should ever come into contact with, but they have a job to finish and—her stomach churns, the foulness of the air and the thought of wading into the repugnant water have gotten the better of her. Coughing and dry heaving wracks her shoulders and chest with such violence that she nearly smashes her head against a rung. Scrambling up the ladder, the nomad flings herself into a bent over crouch and pulls her balaclava down so she can relieve her urge to vomit.


 


“Ew!” Blossom steps back quickly and holds the back of her hand up to her mouth. “Gross.”


 


“I can’t,” Echo coughs, eyes squeezed shut, skin appearing pale even in the poor light. “I can’t go down there.”


 


“Uh-uh,” Blossom shakes her head emphatically. “Nope. I’m not going down there now either. Sh*t be too real. Too real!”


 


Looking up from trying to create a blind, Casino can't help but understand, the smell reaching him also. Looking at the group as a whole, he raises his hands and sighs.


 


"Well that was my idea, Blossom, Echo, anyone got another one, I'm out."


 


"What if," Bloodbank asks, rising from crouching and scrounging through his bag holding two items, "I was able to fashion us some masks to filter out that sewer smell. At least for a bit."


 


He holds up the items he; an undershirt and some rubbing alcohol disinfectant from his medkit. "I could tear this into strips, and soak those strips in this alcohol, and we could tie that around our noses. As long as we tried to breathe through our mouths, I'm pretty sure that the fumes wouldn't be too much to cause us problems, but the sewer smell could be largely blocked out with that of sterile alcohol. Think you two could stomach the sewers then?"


 


Could I stomach the sewers, then? Bloodbank wonders to himself. The smell is truly toxic, and he can feel the bile trying to rise in his throat as he thinks of descending into the filth. Do I really have the luxury of that choice, though? We are running out of time, and we are out of ideas. We need to do something!


 


Fixer watches Echo and Blossom try and fail to go down into the sewers. The smell is truly awful and he is glad he has been assigned homeless duty. That sewer is nasty! Fixer does his best to avoid grinning when Bloodbank attempts to come to the rescue. With or without the Medtech's improvised masks, he is glad he is not being asked to go down. He wonders if the masks will work.


 


"I don't know if the masks will work, but what about those shelters over there," He nods his head in the direction of the boxes and things forming a shelter in the alley for some wrecks unfortunate enough to have no better shelter. "For just a few credits I'm sure the residents could be persuaded to vacate and we would at least have a hidden location in which to work. It isn't perfect, but the smell will at least be tolerable."


 


“No offense, Doc Bloodbank,” Blossom pops her lolli from her mouth and uses it to indicate the sewers, “but our girl here literally lost her sh*t after spending a few seconds in that hellhole. Way to attempt to McGuyver a solution but I’m voting for droppin’ a couple of C’s on those streetrats and seeing what kind of hospitality that wins us.”


 


Echo uses the back of her hand to wipe the corners of her mouth and gags again before nodding in agreement still doubled over. “I can taste it.”


 


“Ew!” Blossom shoves the candy back into her mouth and screws her face up in disgust.


 


(OOC: Assuming the plan will proceed as outlined by Fixer.)


 


The area in which the techie had referred everyone to is located further down the alley where the inhabitants are less likely to cause disturbances along the street and thus are less likely to be ousted. Wet cardboard boxes are propped up against the outside amongst pallets, discarded poles and other garbage. While not reaching higher than a small pup tent, there will be room inside to sit if the outside provides a correct estimation.


 


Approaching what appears to be the opening, a growling voice rolls from inside, “Just ‘cause I don’t live in no fancy conapt don’t mean I can’t defend myself. Roll on, ‘less you want some new holes t’ breathe through.”


 


(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:38 AM PST)


 


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


 


Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:09 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)


 


“No one wants to be here right now, choomba,” the guard calls back. “Hell! I’m missing a great playoff game because of this mess. You’ve got sixty seconds to give yourself up. After that… well, we’re all going to be adding some numbers to the daily death pool. Sixty seconds, starting now!”


 


The offered bribe is not accepted. Ghlahn’s hope that a bit of credit would defuse the situation fizzles as it seems the team leader is set on a confrontation. That thought is confirmed when he announces that in 60 seconds there will be trouble if Ghlahn doesn’t turn himself in. What kind of idiot gives a countdown? Ghlahn muses. Sixty seconds is an eternity for an accomplished assassin.


 


Ghlahn calculates that the two men directly to his front are the most dangerous as he has little cover from them. Those to his right are at least blocked a bit by the car.


 


"Alright, you win, we will do it your way. Just calm down." Ghlahn hopes his answer will cause a moment of pause and maybe even a bit of a relief to the team members. Dropping into a prone position, Ghlahn brings his rifle to bear on the legs of the farthest team member across the driving lane and in front of him. By shooting under the cars he hopes to hit their more vulnerable legs and take them out of the fight. He squeezes the trigger and sends the first round off, then a second flash sends another round towards the second team member’s legs. Almost by reflex he rolls back under the car for better cover while he seeks to target the remaining team members.


 


The leg of the first target is swept backward and though the Cee-metal sniper’s vision is partially blocked, he’s pretty sure that the man falls into the vehicle he’s taking cover behind. Too intent on his second target to register anything more of the first’s situation, Ghlahn expertly places his second round into the exposed shin area of the closer of the two soldiers. Again, the leg swings back with the impact from the round and Alex McKennon scrambles behind the tire and under the car.


 


Unable to see anything of his next targets from between the tires, the sniper has to quickly belly crawl forward in order to gain a line of sight and even then, he can just make out the right side of the fellow hiding behind the cement pillar. Squeezing off two more shots, Ghlahn watches with satisfaction as the first round strikes the fellow in his exposed right arm and immediately ignites the fabric on fire. His second round tears through the inner thigh, penetrating the armor and spraying arterial blood away from the limb. The man falls out of site as the chaos of battle descends on the parking garage.


 


From off to Ghlahn’s front left the sound of automatic weapons fire is immediately accompanied by the high pitched ring of rounds striking metal as twenty to thirty rounds pepper the vehicles over and around him. These are followed by more of the same. Glass breaks, the vehicle covering the Corpore Steel soldier is dancing with the barrage but so’s the yellow sports next to him.


 


With his eyes still on the targets by the pillar, Ghlahn spots the other soldier in the area pop up and spray rounds his way with a submachine gun while more rounds come in from the left. Oil begins to drain from multiple holes in the engine block overhead spattering down on Ghlahn like dirty rain. Sparks fly and whistling bullets strike right near Alex’s head spitting fragments of cement into his combat mask like tiny bugs against a motorcycle helmet windscreen.


 


His situation has changed. Six seconds have passed since he started shooting and already Ghlahn feels that he may have eliminated three of the potentially eight from the fight but his left side is now definitely under siege and their reactive barrage of fire is quickly going to be replaced by a more strategic assault.


 


(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:09 AM PST)


 


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


 


the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 5:05 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)


Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)


 


Pulling up his browser, Luther pulls up Vegas’ contact information and accesses the messages.


 


I’m less than 30 minutes out, do you have the package yet, has Santa’s elves been seen yet?


 


Before a reply is given Luther fires another message.


I don’t have a lot of room in the vehicle, wrap that package up and get ready to have it picked up.


 


Unfortunately, that’s when the lights start flashing behind him. Blue and red illuminating the early morning skyline. Glancing in the side mirror, Cred Stick Charlie can readily make out the profile of a police cruiser flying in his wake indicating that he is to descend and land on the side of a street.


 


"What the heck?" Luther says to himself.


 


Producing his fake ID from the side pocket of his agent’s case, Cred Stick Charlie places it on the console separating the front seats, ready for it to be scanned. As he did, Luther mentally goes over the checklist that he performed at the fueling station parking lot... everything looked good then. Weird, he thinks as paranoia sets in.


 


Mentally ordering his agent to dial 911, the fixer begins to pull his hover jeep over, seeking someplace well lit and potentially in the public eye.


 


⇐ 911 What’s your emergency? =>


 


Relaying to the dispatcher that he is being pulled over, the well-dressed dealer asks for verification that the vehicle behind him is, in fact, a police officer.


 


<= Yes sir, it is. Officer Burns, badge number 34285 has called in the stop. =>


 


Still unsure of why he’s being pulled over, Luther asks if there’s a patrol sergeant nearby that can join them.


 


<= I can assure you, sir, that a patrol sergeant isn’t necessary. But if you’d really like one present, I can see how long it will take for a sergeant to get to your location. =>


 


Spotting a descent position beneath a streetlamp and in front of a semicircular building face with four stories of glass facing the street, Luther pulls over and stops the vehicle, allowing the winds of the hover turbines the settle and the jeep to slowly lower to street level.


 


(OOC: Luther’s answer.)


 


<= Very well, sir. =>


 


Behind him, the patrol car swings its nose out towards the street for an easier departure, blues and reds still flashing, reflecting both off of the wet street and the windows of the buildings around them.


 


(OOC: I’m holding off posting further so that you, Espatier, have time to answer dispatch and tell me how Luther is preparing to meet the cop(s). )





(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 5:07 AM PST)



Posted on 2019-01-07 at 10:51:49.

Topic: Lights Last Embrace - A Wheel of Time Q&A
Subject:


It looks like we're moving again. At least, the Wheel is starting to turn once more, anyway. I'd like to suggest that people review their posts carefully against what Gid posted and what the other players have posted. When I was reading through, I thought I saw some inconsistencies.


Just a suggestion. Looking forward to your post tomorrow, Gid. Might I convince you to hit that Flesh & Blood game while you're at it?



Posted on 2019-01-03 at 18:47:39.

 


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