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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Hee hee hee...
Congrats to Dark Autumn! Peacekeeper earned an IP in Combat Sense!
All right folks (at least those edgerunners who're facing the bullet), I need how you're going to react offensively, defensively, and if retreat is necessary, how you'll react then.
Tann, and Blammm, you'll want to wait until they've posted and I let you know timelines so you can react to what is amounting to gunfire.
Good luck Choombattas!
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 02:55:00.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: And it begins...
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Coyote paused while he considered the suggestion. The rain had added to the slick look of his long, black hair and he stroked his thin beard as he squinted at the building they stood next to. He kept glancing back towards the Hole while he deliberated until he finally shook his head.
“No,” he said with a deepening of his near perpetual scowl. “I ain’t trying to be difficult, Hombre, but I don’t have the range t’ do no one no good from the top of that.” He reached around his back and gave his hardware a pat. “Purely gama corta, mi amigo. If ya know what I mean.”
Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The room hung silent for a moment after Spiff made his speech. It was heavy, like a Georgia thunderstorm in midsummer. The thunder rumbling outside was like the angry growl of a caged beast… and quite suddenly, it was released.
“You lyin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Stallion’s hand darted for his gun as he rose from his seat, murder in his eyes.
Dawn was caught flat-footed as her boss leapt from his seat, but Peacekeeper and Firewind weren’t. The room was suddenly a flurry, and it’d be seconds before Stallion’s bodyguards burst into the room as they had a bit of distance to cover.
Everything was moving much slower for the enhanced bounty hunter. She saw Stallion’s muscles tense beneath his armored jeans as he began to scream at them and knew he was coming to his feet. The bunching of his shoulders told her that he planned on skinning steel, so, naturally, she went for her piece and in a fluid motion that belied the natural motion of the human body, Peacekeeper had produced the .44 Automag. She was already wired for it and the targeting scope in her right eye quickly spun the crosshairs to bead on the ganger’s head. He’d just finished yelling “son-of-a-“ when her weapon went off. It kicked in her small hands, but years of experience held it steady. She’d already determined that the ganger was armored underneath his skin and she placed the dual-purpose round right between the man’s eyes. It was a beautiful shot and in the breadth of a nanosecond, Peacekeeper had forced the Wild Things to find a new leader.
Stallion had risen to the occasion in time to get ripped from his feet and thrown over backwards. His right hand flung away from his body and cast his weapon across the room as his feet slipped out from underneath him. He ended his momentum with his lower back stretched out over the back of the couch.
It’d happened faster than most could have thought possible, but Firewind had been on edge ever since he’d climbed in that van. He, too, was boosted, as any combat doc should be, and as the woman on the other side of Spiff moved so gracefully and quickly, Keahi was producing his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dawn moving as if through heavy water, her hands inching towards her weapons. In front of him, Merry Deth was also moving as though slowed by a motion frame, reaching for her weapon. Spiff stood between Firewind and Peacekeeper, cellphone still in his hand, slightly behind their position as he’d turned and stepped away to place his fateful call.
(OOC: It is Firewind’s turn. Merry Deth’s moving fast too, faster than Spiff, but Spiff is moving faster than Dawn. Yes… the monkey feces has hit the spinning blades despite Spiff’s use of luck. Can’t beat an exploding ten plus another ten unless you roll the same thing. Sorry Spiff, and good luck choombattas.)
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
"You serious about this, choomba? Are you armed and able to give me some cover if needed?" Already pushing himself slowly backwards and away from the edge, Guardian felt good about the decision despite the obvious danger. At least they were moving now and moving meant getting warm. "Just remember I'm not a soldier... But I'll do what it takes to keep you alive."
“I’ll be honest here, Guardian,” DigitalScribe said with a worried glance back over the edge before he started to move back away from it alongside his bodyguard. “I’ve got heat, but I’m no soldier either.”
The words weren’t meant to be a pep talk, just honest. It was always best to be honest in the face of death as far as Frankie was concerned; and here, well, death just about stank up the place.
When the two men were back far enough Frankie had a thought. “I guess if we aim for the other side of the fire escape, should we jump short, we’ll hit the fire escape instead of falling to our deaths. But if we make it, then we’ll be that much better off.”
It was unnecessary as an observation went, but the comment brought a sense of ease to the situation for DigitalScribe. It wasn’t that he was afraid of conflict. He’d been in many a firefight. No, this was more of a combination of the thrill of the hunt coming to conclusion and the fact that he was sure they were going to have to face off against Croaker and Peacekeeper when all was said and done. He hadn’t yet decided how he was going to deal with that little pickle.
“Ready?”
DigitalScribe’s boot scraped gravel as he took off at full speed towards the ledge. The weight of his wet clothes was something he was very aware of, and the bouncing shoulder rig he wore was something that he found himself worrying about more than he should have. Within moments he was airborne, bits of gravel and water cascading from his feet, his arms spinning in a windmill fashion to keep him upright. The alley sped by underneath and before he wanted it to, the descent was upon him.
Guardian was hot on his heels and the rush of air washed his wet face just as quickly as he passed over the urban gorge. He had been right about the extra weight of the wet gear, but he compensated, and soon found himself falling towards the roof of the Hole.
The toe of his boot caught the cement rim of the rooftop and DigitalScribe felt it slip almost immediately. His heart leapt into his throat, his hands went out in front of him, and the dark gravel of the roof rushed up to meet his face. The small pebbles tore into the soft flesh of his palms, the weight of his momentum pushing his chest into the surface and the air from his lungs at the impact. He bounced, half-rolled, and then struck the rooftop again with a heavy groan. His vision burst into a billion small speckles of light and his mind was washed over by a wave of numbness.
Guardian landed easily and slid to right himself. To his left, he felt more than saw, his employer bite it hard against the rooftop, and then the audible grunt and smack of DigitalScribe’s body hitting gravel rang out to him clear as a bell. They were closer to the ganger on the southwest corner of the building, and it was to this location that told Guardian that the man had heard something. The shadow was rising up and turning towards them, his rifle coming to bear.
(OOC: Guardian has initiative, but DigitalScribe is stunned, so he’s on his own this round).
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 02:52:27.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Ah, the weekend!
*Melts*
Posted on 2007-04-20 at 01:46:57.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Conversating
“Well, come on up gentlemen. Your motives may be pure but I ain’t too sure about that other ship’s. We can offer you some nice, home-cooked breakfast, and coffee, as a way to make amends for our neighborly-like stance.”
Wyatt gave a quick nod as though confirming what he’d already assumed would happen and smacked Sam on the arm with the back of his hand as he stepped forward.
“Guess that’s Diplomacy one, Violence zero,” he said wryly as he proceeded on his way towards the prospector’s digs. He had to agree with the fellow who’d done the yelling (Jim was it?) that the other ship was more than a bit of an enigma, and Wyatt wasn’t too keen on surprises.
“Sam,” he said calmly as the two approached the building. “Don’t take nothin’ fer granted, and see if you can’t check on that other airlock every once in a while. I’ll do the same, an’ I know you weren’t likely t’ doze off on me, but it needed sayin’ none-the-less.”
As they reached the porch a tall, thin man stepped from within. He wore denim overalls and a red flannel shirt that looked to Wyatt as though they’d seen better days. He was smiling all easy-like and had a way about him that made Wyatt want to like him. It was a natural ease-setter, causing the captain to feel the symptoms of relaxing his guard stretch their wings, and that was dangerous. His hair was as much a mess as his clothing, but it seemed to fit, and Sung couldn’t help but think that this guy must be a hoot around a camp fire.
“Jim Ryan,” the man said, offering his right hand as Wyatt and Dash stepped onto the porch.
“Wyatt Sung,” the captain responded in an equally relaxed fashion. He let Sam do his own bit of introduction as he peered into what looked to be a fairly well-furnished establishment.
Once introductions were finished Wyatt lifted his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair to release it from the pressed-down nature it had taken form to. They were making their way inside and he figured now was as good a time as any to press the issue of the other ship.
“Jim,” his voice carried a near lazy tone to it; almost a drawl. “You made mention of havin’ trouble in the past with claim jumpers, so I’ve no doubt you and your partner know how to use a rifle, but I’ve got my own crew to be concerned with an’ this other ship… well, they come down in front of us and near skinned Rocinante with their burners like they was itchin’ t’ put us adrift in the Black, or at the very least; didn’t care. Now, in my book, that spells trouble.
“Now, this here’s your bit of dirt—er, uh, ice—an’ I won’t pretend that I’m in any sort of command over what’s yours, but I’d feel a might better knowing that we was pretty safe conducting our business and partakin’ of your hospitality what with my crew attached all precarious to the belly of a comet and all.
“Sides which, I got me a right hungry crew an’ I’m sure they’d love some parcels of something other than protein paste for breakfast if’n you’re offering.”
Posted on 2007-04-19 at 02:45:05.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Now that I review
The timestamps mean that there's plenty of time for Eol and I to post some conversation bits with the prospectors before you all are done with your chores. 
I'll try to post tonight.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 14:07:44.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Was eyeing the...
Char was too caught up eyeing the two-weapon fighting. Never quite made it to the deoderant.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 14:04:47.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Where can I purchase that?
Is it on aisle 4?
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:41:16.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Sure...
As far as Wyatt is concerned the danger isn't over yet. He's not keen on inviting Willow into the thick of it, and the rest of the crew is busy with their duties right now. If things go smooth (I think the timestamps Roger put out there for us put the conversation between Sam, Wyatt, and the prospectors quite a bit ahead of the docking ship) he'll be more than happy to have the whole of the crew join them for a homecooked meal. Right now, he's not being a selfish jerk, but is concerned about his crew's safety.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:39:46.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Thanks for the heads up
I may just post that basic response for you.
Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:35:49.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Uh
I think that constitutes suicide... doesn't it?
Posted on 2007-04-17 at 00:49:00.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Way I figure it...
This is one of those cases where I'll post after the lot of you seeing how there's a chance for a lot of communicating. Figure Wyatt will make sure things are solid-steady on the Lullaby before inviting Willow to join them for the business end of things. His guard isn't down, but he's diplomatic-cordial with the miners just so-as y'all know. He'll certainly not turn down a good home-cooked breakfast!
Posted on 2007-04-15 at 23:40:54.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Sorry about the delayed posting.
All right, things are moving forward again. I've posted. I've also sent a message to Raven asking if he's still in as Guardian... believe me. You guys want him playing Guardian, so bug him. 
Posted on 2007-04-15 at 23:31:58.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Vamoose!
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
Preacher gave a quick nod as he glanced back the direction Croaker had indicated. South meant taking them out of range of the sentry’s vision (hopefully) and crossing the street at an easier local. The problem, as the solo saw it, was that it would mean a good two to five minutes where those inside the building would be left to their own devices… not that they really weren’t anyway what with the lot of them outside and out of range to help without getting a hole blown through their skulls. Then there was the suggestion of putting one of them on the rooftop of the apartment building they were on, another couple of minutes at best to accomplish that. Still, Croaker was calling the shots. He had been from the moment Preacher had joined and so long as the solo’s life wasn’t put in too serious jeopardy he was good following orders. He, too, waited on Coyote’s response. If the nomad wanted to spend the time hoofin’ all over the city while the rest of the team was indoors there wasn’t much Preacher could do, or say, about it.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The play was priceless. It was a pissing match of undeniable blatancy. Spiff was making his move and trusting to Peacekeeper and Firewind to watch his back. They were in Stallion’s house, the gang leader was armed and had bodyguards within a wink of an eye away, and the three of them would have to fight a horde of heavily-armed boosters who were sober and serious in order to get out. There was only one answer to the question of, “How dare he?” and that was that he must have a huge set of balls.
Firewind and Peacekeeper caught the show though. While Spiff had his back turned they witnessed Stallion’s face turn an ugly shade of red quicker than a two dollar whore turned a trick. His hand started over towards his piece, but Merry Deth stalled him with a hand on his thigh and a quick word in his ear where her painted lips touched his lobe for just a second… a second that surely sent a tingle down his spine.
The phone conversation was brief, but informative. “Tell me something I want to hear.”
”I’ve sent you the schematics on the Hole, boss. I’ve looked at ‘em and I think the man’d be in the top floor, penthouse suite. That’s likely where he and Queen Mary would be. Boss… Boss, you there?”
“You’re obviously a busy cat,” Stallion’s voice broke in on the conversation. His amusement was evident and it occurred to everyone there that he’d seen through Spiff’s bluff. “But I got no time to play at games. If what Elizabeth has said you told her is true, I got to get my troops ready for a fight tonight. ‘Course, it was awful nice of you to come down here in person to check up on things. I ain’t about to turn away free Chooh, understand? So why don’t you three just make yourselves comfortable and tell me how it is you came about this data. I want to know everything you do, and pronto. You may even say that your very lives depend on it… seeing how the lot o’ you be sitting in my house when it’s about to get attacked, ya know? So sing, li’l bird. You don’t have all night.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm
“Ok Frankie you want a story I can get you a story but only after its all said and done. But if thats not good enough for you so be it. Unless there's anything else you want to say to me I guess this is goodbye and oh one more thing I will be sure to give Peacekeeper your hello.”
DigitalScribe slowly closed his phone and stared out into the rain for a moment. He wasn’t concerned so much about Peacekeeper; not with Guardian around. Those other two he’d hired tonight had been small fish compared to the big black bodyguard, and the media was going to go into debt if he had to in order to keep the man around until this conflict with Croaker and Peacekeeper was resolved. He gave a slightly frustrated shake of his head and coughed as quietly as he could into his hand. The nomad had always been stubborn, and rarely could see the bigger picture, but Frankie thought for certain that reminding him of the debt he owed the media would be enough to calm his fires. Croaker was many things, but DigitalScribe had always thought him honorable.
“Damn!” Frankie rolled over to his belly again and scooted up to the edge. “Fraq!” His bright blue eyes scanned the rooftop once more, then turned to Guardian. “It’s going down, Choomba. That was Croaker on the line there, and he’s feeling desperate or he wouldn’t have called again.” Turning back to the building he pointed at the fire escape. It was closer than the building and would be an easy landing pad from their location. Of course, it’d be noisier than hitting the rooftop, but beggars couldn’t be choosers… or something like that. “We got to get over there and quick.”
At Guardian’s questioning stare Frankie sighed. “OK, so I got a soft spot for people I care about, even if they want to put holes in me that don’t belong there. Not to mention that the only way this story is going to pay off is if we’re getting the footage, neh? So, we back up to there,” he pointed over his right shoulder, the left still bearing the shoulder camera, “and get a runnin’ start. Then, we’re flying like the eagle to the sea… only not so far. You get the drift. The sentries are still at their posts so we’ll have to move quick. See that large cooling unit? We’ll have to sprint to that and dig in to stay outta their frame. You good with this?”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - 12:53am
“Mother frackin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Lobo snapped his cell phone shut and closed his eyes for a moment, his left hand slicking his long, black hair back on his head.
“That don’t sound good.” There were two other men in the van. One was a smallish Caucasian with a receding hairline and a thick mustache. He wore glasses, a white button up shirt, and brown slacks. He had a Glock 30 machine pistol strapped to his waist and he chain-smoked mint-flavored cigarettes as though they were the very air he breathed. The other man was of average build, black-skinned, with shorter hair in a wire-like dreadlock spread. He was wearing an armored Gibson jacket that looked like it had been through hell and back, Gibson jeans, and Ruftread boots. He had a Nova 757 CityHunter in a bulky shoulder rig and it was he who had spoken.
“No, it ain’t frackin’ good.” Lobo opened his eyes and took charge. “All right, we gotta light a fire, boys. Coyote is in trouble an’ says that if we don’t come up with some way to help him out he could get greased.”
“Damn,” the skinny white fellow muttered as he turned back to the console sitting against the wall of the van. “What kind of help does he need?”
“He’s got some high-eyes lookin’ to smoke him.”
“The nearest unit is five-minutes—“
“I know that! I frackin’ told him as much! What else we got Masterson?”
“Um…” The smaller man quickly punched through a few relays on his computer. The screen highlighting every active unit within the city grid. A couple more tags and it’d focused on their area.
“There!” the black man pointed over his shoulder. “That’s an AV, no?”
“We can’t commandeer an AV!”
“Like hell we can’t,” Lobo growled. “We’re frackin’ S.IN., Choombatta. If they got it in the air, we got it on the way. Rip, call it in.” Lobo relayed the coordinates Coyote had given him and the black man snatched up a radio mic from the desk he was leaning against.
“Unit A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha, come in, over.”
There was a moment static, then the speaker crackled to life. ”Unit A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha here. Who’s this? Over.”
“This is unit S-I-N-Two-Delta-India-Juliet. We got a ten-one-oh-eight in progress. Can you assist? Over.”
“Affirmative. What’s your twenty? Over.”
Rip gave Lobo a smile as he relayed the coordinates. “Code three, A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha, code three. Do not fire unless ordered, though. Don’t want to run the risk of an unnecessary DB. Just hoping that the sight o’ you will clear the air a bit. Over.”
“Affirmative. Enroute. Over.”
“Well,” Lobo sat back against the seat he occupied and sighed. “Coyote can’t say we don’t frackin’ got his six.”
“You know there’ll be a shit-load of paperwork to fill out when we get back.” Masterson sounded as though they were in all sorts of trouble as he lit up another smoke.
“Yeah,” Lobo grinned. “But you got that covered, right? You can process that trash right from your pretty little box, neh? So we’ll be able to call it a night as soon as Coyote’s free an’ clear.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - 12:55am
Posted on 2007-04-15 at 21:13:20.
Edited on 2007-04-15 at 21:14:38 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Looks smug
I posted.
Posted on 2007-04-15 at 17:20:32.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: They're here...
Beneath his gloves Char was sweating. They were about to face off against Imperials once again and that was never a fun experience. Not that the ranger enjoyed combat when someone's life was on the line. He did enjoy a smart sparring session where he could truly test his fencing skills, but this wasn't going to be that.
Looking over to where Maximus stood ready, Char gave him a nod and set his jaw. He'd just heard the sounds of booted feet and it was time to truly test his skills. He moved back a little ways from the door, staying along the wall so as to make it impossible for any shards of wood to hit him should the door be broken in. He rested on the balls of his feet, his legs slightly bent, his muscles loose and ready to spring into action at a thought. His strangely furced blades were held with the left one forward, the right back a bit, ready to slash. He was as ready as he could possibly be.
(OOC: Offensive action - Char will push to keep the enemy at the door making it difficult for them to press their position. He'll fight with the intention to end the fight as soon as possible and that means killing. Defensive action: Char will try to stay back to back, or close by Maximus for the benefit of covering each other's back. As far as he's concerned there is no retreating since that will put Arien in danger.)
Posted on 2007-04-14 at 07:21:25.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: And where Spiff was...
There weren't no jutting things.
Posted on 2007-04-11 at 00:24:56.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Let's talk...
(OOC: backpost a bit)
Wyatt had just finished strapping on and was about to give the elephants a farewell pat when his quarters were buzzed. Readjusting his hat so that it rode low on his brow, the captain opened the ladder hatch and climbed up to meet… glossy—Willow. Climbing up the rest of the way, Wyatt twisted and dropped to the catwalk.
"Captain san, when I said everything was shiny, that was more for Asher's state of mind than yours," she started, then stopped to wrinkle her nose at the oiled metallic smell she noted on the Captain.
"I see you've put on your "dress" shirt," she resumed, a touch of irony coloring her tone. "Ready for trouble or looking for it, I'd suggest that Asher remain on the ship with me for a least an hour or so. That burn was bad, but I didn't want to scare him and send him into shock. He's stable, now, but needs real mending if he wants to keep the full use of his arm. Burn scars are the worst to heal, especially around a joint."
Wyatt tilted his head to the side, not completely oblivious to the tone she’d taken with him, but finding it amusing he decided to let it pass.
“If’n you say he should remain, then remain he shall, Doc.” It was simple; it was direct. Tilting his hat to the little woman he gave her a soft half-smile. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble Willow, just prepared for it. Whoever was on that other ship seemed hell-bent to run us out and paid it no mind when they put their burn to our nose. I’ll not play like that didn’t happen, but I’ll not start no conversatin’ that ain’t peaceable. I promise you that. Just tend to the boy and the rest,” he gave his coat pocket a tap. “I’ll let you know when your skills are needed.”
Wyatt waited to make sure that Willow didn’t have anything to add before continuing on his way with another tip of the hat brim.
(OOC: caught up.)
The trip down the gantry did nothing to prepare Wyatt for the vision he was met with upon opening the doors. The captain was forced to squint into the bright light, a frown creasing his face as his hand rested on the butt of his pistol. Lowering his head a bit, he allowed the brim of his hat to shade his eyes and scanned the area for signs of life—the closed doors on Bay 1 not going unnoticed. They’d beaten the Celestia in.
*Blamm …. Ting thuck*
Most men might have jumped, but not Wyatt. He was practically dead inside, most days it didn’t matter if he was dead on the outside too, and the proximity of the shot mattered little to him other than to stay his hand as his initial impulse had been to skin iron.
“Hold steady, Sam,” Wyatt said under his breath. It wasn’t that he figured Sam for a loose cannon… well, OK, sometimes he figured Sam for a loose cannon.
“WHO THE AI YAH TIEN AH ARE YOU?” a voice shouts out from the homestead.
“AND STAY OUT OF MY MATERS!” another voice calls.
Wyatt let his hand drift from his weapon and his coat to roll back over it as he held his hands out about six inches from his sides.
“Name’s Wyatt Sung, an’ I captain Rocinante here. Picked up some containers from Griffith on Beaumonde. Griffith an’ Royale. We were told that the Lullaby Mine had some ice that needed transport to Regina. Who’s throwing lead our way, so that I might address them that be proper. After all, it ain’t considered polite to keep hollerin’ less you know who yer hollerin’ at.”
(OOC: Influence roll please… trying to influence the situation in our favor.)
Posted on 2007-04-10 at 01:22:09.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Can't find anything...
There's nothing in the book pertaining to repairs on the ship that I can find. Maybe they thought it would be covered in the monthly maintenance. Maybe they figured you'd take it and treat a mechanic's fix-it rate like a docs... don't know. The call's yours as far as I can tell.
And you're right; Wyatt ain't gonna hold off on business cause some ruttin' cat's aboard the Roc. After all, airlocks are a handy way of gettin' rid of stow-aways...
Posted on 2007-04-10 at 00:45:04.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Good news!
Thanks for the update DA. That's some really good news. We look forward to your full return.
As for your question Tann; those are the fire escape. Though you haven't checked, most fire escapes in the city are at least fifteen feet from the ground at the lowest point with ladders that lower when necessary.
Posted on 2007-04-10 at 00:40:55.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Some orders are in place.
The crew's pretty solid at wearing multiple hats, so I hope I'm not offending anyone by leaving them out of the spitting contests right off the bat. Way Wyatt figures it, the Roc needs fixing... as much as he hates putting credits towards repairs, he don't like flying broke either. He hasn't discounted Kora's usefulness in a fight, nor Willow's usefulness in a negotiation, but he isn't about to put the Doc at risk until he knows the lay of the land.
Sam and Ash... well, gunslinging is kinda their gig. So getting shot at ain't so taboo in Wyatt's mind when the two of them are with him.
Posted on 2007-04-08 at 18:57:41.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Orders
Wyatt’s face split in a grin that belonged to a man who’d just witnessed the grim overcome. The Maria Celestia was blown back and they were coming in on the docking bay as smooth as one could considering the icy debris floating off that rock. They’d be delivering the cargo soon enough and on their way, though he’d no illusions that the crew they’d just sent rollin’ wouldn’t be out for something by way of revenge. What the ruttin’ hell’d they think they’d accomplish by gunnin’ like they did anyway? he thought just as Willow’s report came over the intercom:
“Minor medical event in the engine room, Captain-san, but we’re shiny now. Just no hitting Asher on the arm for a while, or you’ll have me to face. Pardon the impertinence, but are we there yet? My stomach can’t remember which way is up.”
Wyatt glanced at Dash and raised his eyebrows as he grabbed the mic. “What the hell happened so that he got himself broke?”
(OOC: assuming a quick, “The panel blew out and toasted him a bit.”)
“Ta Ma Duh! (Damn!)” Visions of Roc falling apart around him filled his head. “Well, tell Kora she don’t have much time to get the patch on. I don’t want to be sittin’ on this spinning iceblock fer very long.
“Ash, git yerself all patched and meet me an’ Sam in the cargo hold pronto. The rest o’ ya, strap some iron for the duration. We’re preparin’ fer Tian Shia (Everything under the sky).”
Dropping the mic back into its holder, Wyatt helped Dash bring the Roc around for purchase, then, as the pilot worked his magic, Sung began switching all control back over to him. The grinding sound of their boat connecting with the docking bay rang through the ship followed by a clanking that indicated the magnetic locks were in place, and Wyatt rose from the chair.
“Get strapped, Sam. The crew o’ Celestia’s likely t’ want words. I want t’ make sure we’re doing the right sort o’ talkin’.”
Slapping his friend’s shoulder, Wyatt readjusted his hat and made his way to the Fore Deck and down the ladder to his quarters, his boots making the crisp clicking sound he was so used to on the metal boardwalk as he went.
Wyatt hung his weaponry in a ostentatious manner on the wall near the door in his room. The shotgun hung horizontal at head level, its sheathe draped across its length. The Colt service revolver Wyatt preferred rested in its holster beneath the shotgun, angled so that the combat knife—also in its sheathe—could cross underneath it. Beneath those, center under the pattern, was the Derringer, all shiny and faux pearl handled. The drawers were underneath these and it was to this that Wyatt first focused his attention, pressing the button that pushed the top one open. As the mechanism released, Wyatt was already unbuttoning his shirt with one hand while pulling his suspender straps down with the other. As soon as he was bare-chested, the captain hooked his hat on the shotgun barrel and retrieved his ballistic mesh shirt from the drawer.
He’d seen this little piece of armor save more than one life while in the service and when he knew there was a good chance for trouble, the captain took to it like a second skin.
After he’d shimmied into it, he redressed, slipped the Derringer into a boot holster, slung his gunbelt about his waist, and pulled on his brown duster. His shotgun rig went over the top of that, and his hat went back on his head. Wyatt then dropped the personal, ship-linked handset into his pocket and finalized the routine by checking to make sure each of the weapons were fully loaded and that he had a fair share of reload available.
Pausing to peer at the elephant portrait, Wyatt gave it a quick pat and then hurried back up to the Fore Deck. He paused at the Galley just long enough to poke his head in.
“Trish, there’s likely going to be trouble. Keep sharp.” When he received the answering nod, Sung turned and made his way down the stairs to the cargo bay, all the way to the floor. He stopped at the comlink and pressed it in. “Here’s the plan, folks. Sam and I are gonna go see that we’re not being run competition by those Au chr Jze Se Duh Fohn Diang Gho (crazy dogs in love with their own feces) that tried to boil us in the Black a few minutes ago, and to ensure our sale. Asher, we need you caught up as soon as you and Willow can rig it. Kora, git Roc all patched up as quick as you can. I could you use as a guarantee should the going get rough, but it’s more vital that Roc’s all shiny in case we need to skit and skat a little fast. Willow, I’ll want you in on the business meet when that takes place, so prepare yourself, Doc.
“We ain’t outta the fire yet, folks. So let’s not get Soh Ya Feh Tian (foiled at the last minute).”
Turning from the console Wyatt caught Sam as he approached, strapped and ready.
“Well, let’s go G’en Ho Tze Bi Dio se. (engage a monkey in a feces throwing contest.)”
Posted on 2007-04-08 at 18:55:00.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: East
More buildings, same sort, lie to the east. You've got apartment complexes mostly with small lanes, some garbage-filled, others fairly cleaned out. The building directly to the east of you is in good repair, probably a corporate beaver den. You could move east all you'd like.
There's no manholes near you that you can see.
Posted on 2007-04-08 at 18:08:21.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Hmmm...
Char thinned his lips as he quickly considered the feedback he'd received, both directly and indirectly. Kilgim wasn't able to do anything for Arien and as much as he hated to admit it, Valentine was right; they couldn't trust to Arien to be himself if--no, when--he woke up, and there was likely to be trouble real soon.
"No," Char said with a slight shake of his shaggy mane. "Maximus'll stay 'ere. Need dat swordarm a' ready. Kilgim, Valen'ine, place da lad 'ere in da tunnel. Da' Moon need be seein' if'n Sunset'll watch o'er 'im 'till we return. Valen'ine, we migh' be needin' Killer's skills da furder we go on."
Char slipped his crooked swords from their sheathes at his waist in a fluid motion and gave a final nod. "Be quick 'bout i' folks. I tink Valen'ine be righ' dat der be trouble righ' soon."
That said, the ranger moved to the door. "Donna tink der be much need t' be worried 'bout quie' now, eh Da' Moon?" The adrenaline that course through one's body when you anticipate danger was already beginning to flow and Char felt more than a little roguish as he wagged his eyebrows at the thief. "I say you an' da spellbin'er 'ere see if'n some o' dat invisibili'y 'e worked on ya 'fore now can git us a li'l peak a' wot lies ahead."
Posted on 2007-04-07 at 20:27:12.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: More buildings. :)
A map of those directions really isn't necessary. But the general layout is that the map you see is but the corner of the block. It continues on with more apartment buildings, small shops, and more apartment buildings in every direction, but the north. To the north, running along that street, is more of an industrial section utilizing the canals from the harbor for cooling systems, hydro-electric power, and other such things.
You still have your weapons in side the building. They haven't been stripped.
By the way, I'm hoping Raven posts soon and I'm waiting to see what happens on the street before posting in the building.
Posted on 2007-04-07 at 20:14:11.
Edited on 2007-04-07 at 20:28:50 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Oh, he knew before... ;)
The grey building is shorter, and it wouldn't offer any cover while crossing the street, but it would offer cover when running along its face until you came near the northeast corner.
Posted on 2007-04-07 at 02:39:57.
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