|
It’s a dark night in Kivas, the moonless, overcast sky lit from below by the lights of Festiva. The streets of the floating city are packed with revellers, police and stranger forms of security - because tonight, for two hours, the Vaults are being opened. Inside the Vaults, the treasure of generations of conquests across the know world, but the crown jewel of it all is the Diadem of Noos, an enchanted crown bearing three flawless diamonds. You’re here to steal it. It won’t be easy, which is why you’ve been planning this for nearly a year. You’ve seen the plans, plotted the routes, and secured your getaway. You’ve run through the scenario hundreds of times, you could do your role in your sleep. Now the only question is: ”Are you in position?” (Welcome to Kivas, a floating city of opulence, parties, and extreme social stratification! You really want to stick it to the man, which is why your collective has opted to Do A Heist. All I need from you right now is your callsign (no real names due to OpSec!) and your role, along with some minor description of yourself. Then contact your handler through your secure TekkaTab and let them know whether you’re in position. And then we’ll put everyone together and see how ready you really are! Also for no reason give me a 1d6 roll.) Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 17:35 on Apr 16, 2024 |
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 17:09
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 5, 2024 23:49 |
|
|
Call sign JammyBustard Role remote hacker No Reason: 1d6 3 The ‘in position’ notification appeared on the handler’s device. This jammy guy was exceedingly good at both getting in and not leaving a trail back to themselves, and that’s about all that was known. AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 19:28 on Apr 16, 2024 |
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 17:27
|
|
|
Cuckoo, the Last Minute Contractor, adjusted his coat and tie. He was never good at this high society stuff. The chafing tie would be the first thing to go once he got back to his console. The second thing? Well, they knew the plan. He looked around for a moment, grabbed a slice of cake and moved the spoon in the creme fraiche and the tongs next to the doits des femmes into a precise 56 degree angle pointing to the door towards the command center. He flicked his 'tab twice. The signal was given and frequency 56 cleared, he is in position. I'm in position: 1d6 1 Slaan fucked around with this message at 19:21 on Apr 16, 2024 |
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 17:38
|
|
|
Agent 'Two-Lumps' met his handler, a 'Mr. Marshall Meadows', at a table outside the local café - he'd picked the one with the better view of the bridge. "Procurement proceedings are underway if the backing's right and funds are untraceable. Gonna have to admit, I haven't had something this weak to drink in ages - it's almost quaint." Pouring the Tea: 1d6 2 - two lumps, if you please!
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 17:44
|
|
|
Bilgerattatat is down in the depths of the floating city, looking over his jury-rigged getaway for the 104th time, closely positioned to the city's many different essential contraptions he'd have to mess with to make the heist go off without a hitch. Or aid with plans B through Z-2476a. The small, skittish - persistently overthinking, overplanning - oil-smudged mechanist nervously thumbs his TekkaTab and is barely heard over the din of nearby machinery. "Bilge good to go. Sweet cog, I hope you're all set for the geese." for no reason a 1d6 roll: 1d6 1
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 19:08
|
|
|
The neatly-dressed waitress pulled up her nylons and slipped into her heels before she left the locker room where her "colleagues" had been getting ready earlier. In a moment she'd pick up the push-cart the infiltration team had prepped for her and head into the reception room. Before she did so however she activated her TekkaTab and subvocalised: "Sugako here, I'm in position and ready to go loud." Roll for No Reason: 1d6 5
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 19:44
|
|
|
Snicket, the Inside Man stepped out of the locker he'd just been standing in, all gussied up and ready to go in his uniform. The short and prim looking fellow glanced around. The inside of the locker had been roomy enough, though the privacy was quite lacking. He'd been in this for quite a while, had ruthlessly wormed his way into a nice and cozy position among the staff in this place, and into information. And now he was working on this plan with his enterprising colleagues. All this for a grand little heist, for such a beautiful crown.. That was something worth heisting over. Snicket sent a message out. "I'm in position." Fancy a roll? 1d6 5 BraveLittleToaster fucked around with this message at 06:20 on Apr 17, 2024 |
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 19:44
|
|
|
"Well well now, thank you for giving me a tour of the place, good boy." A gaunt, jovial looking man wiped blood from his knife. "I couldn't have gotten in here without you." He dropped the corpse of the youth in the freezer, and piled on some frozen peas before strolling off with a smile on his friendly face. "Shame you then just had to follow me and peek on something quite private." "The Mouth, in position. Ready to make problems disappear." meaningless roll: 1d6 6
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 19:44
|
|
|
Tonight felt different. Not stagefright, she hadn't had that for years, and yet not unlike stragefright. There'd been huge gigs before, and she'd got though unscathed. And there'd been so many rehearsals before, too, and that was second nature to her. But the combination of the two, along with the One Night Only nature of this performance, she had to admit, tonight felt different. The cellist put his 'Tab into his pocket and stood up. "A'ight, back to it", he said in his southern drawl. She whispered "Melody, in position." into her own 'Tab, stowed it in her handbag and picked up her violin and bow. The cellist looked at the rest of the quartet. "A'ight, Noos's Loose," he announced. She shuffled her sheet music and found the piece. "And a two, three, four-" Initial roll: 1d6 5
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 20:22
|
|
|
Dagger loosened her tie slightly. She was here as the muscle, in case something went wrong and they needed someone able to throw down. Or if a door needed to be torn off it's hinges. Or something big thrown or lifted. It was good to be useful in multiple situations. Right now she was on standby, in a bodyguard position at this party. Covertly, Dagger typed into her TekkaTab: "I.P." Shorter was better. She scratched the back of her short black hair, and then pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up. Seemingly meaningless roll: 1d6 5
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2024 21:19
|
|
|
Two-Lumps "No, thanks - I don't smoke until it gets dark - I'm trying to quit, anyway." *a sip of tea punctuates the view of a river with an old bridge running over "A heist on the big house is dicey enough without a loose cannon putting the wrong people in hospitals. I simply can't afford to get sent upriver for eleven years over sloppy muscle, so when I saw that 'Dagger' was on the callsheets I just had to make that anonymous tip..."
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2024 15:06
|
|
|
Oversight, the Coordinator. Racing up the stairs of the clocktower that overlooked much of the city was a man in his fifties, slightly overweight, dark circles under his eyes and clearly exhausted, but wearing a nicely fitted suit, speaking frantically into his TekkaTab in between frantic breaths. "Huff. Oversight. Not in position. Sorry, got held up. Sky traffic. I'll be there in five. Uh. Sync your tabs to t+five, over." He adjusted the large, black velvet sack he was carrying on his back - containing all manner of whidgets and doodads, but mostly sensor equipment and delicate, very precise time-measuring devices. Hopefully they wouldn't be too scuffed by the ascent. Roll With It: 1d6 = 1
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2024 15:24
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 5, 2024 23:49 |
|
|
Half-Minute, the Driver. A young man in a brown tweed coat and tan slacks steps out of the Taxi and hands over a generous tip to the driver. He tugs his flat cap low, shading his eyes from the opulent display of festival lights up and down the streets. He takes the long way around the block, and, getting to the warehouse door, whips a searching glance behind him. Quickly unlatching it, he slips inside, and then looks over the vehicle, smiling to himself as he runs his hand over its lines. Soon, darling. He pads over to the landline and punches in a pager number. "Half-Minute, in position. On Comms in five." Hanging up the phone, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a pair of worn leather driving gloves, slipping them on. Are you in Position: 1d6 5 The Wandering Mage fucked around with this message at 16:26 on Apr 17, 2024 |
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2024 16:22
|
|