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Grumb Slanger, inside the walkybox Grumb comforts the dying human beneath him as it gasps for air, lungs punctured and spine severely displaced. "Ssssshhh," he says calmly, placing his grubby finger on the guardsman's lips. "Ssshh." Grumb gently unbuckles him from his harness and ceremoniously heaves him over the side of the sentinel. He performs the customary one-fingered salute, and spits. He then sits himself down in the control chair and grabs the control doohickeys. Methodically he activates the hard drive, disengages the safety, and turns the wheel to maximum fastness. I'm just like Groin! he thinks, as the sentinel begins to make a terrible grinding noise and twitch one of its legs like a stray dog, awkwardly leaning. "poo poo. Butt-swill snag-puckerin' git the - Fack! Git goin' you stupid thing, we gotta GO!" he swears at the console, jabbing buttons and twisting the activation keys in their locksy compartment. The headlights flicker on and off as the chainsaw spins up and the pilot light on the flamethrower activates repeatedly. He bats at the pushy-sticks frustratedly, as the sentinel begins hopping from foot to foot in place, like some kind of maniac on the floor. Finally, as he gives up and shoves both of the pushy-sticks away from himself in dismay, the sentinel begins to lurch forwards. He did it! He was on his way. Grabbing the pushy-sticks with white knuckles, he slowly begins to comprehend their relation to the legs. He leans forward and pushes them further, sending the sentinel into a jog. "ARE WE WINNING?" he hollers out the top of the sentinel, awkwardly straightening his spine to try and improve his view. "I CAN'T SEE poo poo FROM UP 'ERE!" ------------------------ Grumb wants to head back to the farm now, as he has utmost faith in his teammates to secure the objective while he makes off with a personal war trophy. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 21:42 on May 1, 2015 |
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Apr 25, 2015 17:40
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SCRUNTINEL IS ALWAYS READY The Crossroads Malbrathia-3  Grumb fumbles with the controls after tipping out his deceased co-pilot into the flames beneath him, but manages to get the hang of them in time to prevent the walker catching light. Barrius and Barry watch Grumb's ride sway drunkenly from one side of the road to the other, slowly realising that Grumb isn't coming back for them and that they have no means of descent other than a precarious free-climb descent. Kreb scuttles up to the Scruntinel once it's free of the gathering inferno, and tries to grab at its legs as it minces past. There are a hairy few moments as he fails to judge its motion correctly, and he is knocked prone a couple of times, but he soon gets the hang of it and swarms up to perch on the roof, narrowly avoiding having his hand crushed in the whirring knee joints. ----- Grumb didn't gently caress up an operate test badly enough to catch light. Kreb got like three climb rolls in the high eighties and nineties, but then scored a 6 for his fourth roll. There probably would have been repercussions had they both hosed up, but as it stands, Kreb has no problems other than a little extra mud. I've forgotten whether Kreb has a comrade or not but if he does he's not in Cohesion until he, too, can scuttle up onto the roof. Grumb is nowhere near Cohesion with his comrades and can't do comrade actions until he is. Get scrunting, all.
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Apr 25, 2015 17:53
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Grimply, boots on the ground With an unusual grace for a scrunt, Grimply climbs the last few feet of the cliff and safely gets back to the ground. Flet isn't as graceful though, and his method of jumping away from the wall to slide down larger parts of the rope at once, is met with a quiet "Fack" everytime when his face bangs against the cliff after each landing. But that does neither concern him or Grimply, because Flet's face has taken worse. On the ground, Grimply takes a look at the battlefield, and it's pretty clear that it's time to leave. The humies have been beaten, the truck seems secured, and the tanks are still coming so there really isn't much else to do. The other scrunts seem to have a handle on things, so Grimply is content with just getting to the scruntmera while they do the rest of the work. However, after making sure that Flet collected the dangly 'ook again, he notices that the limo scrunt squad seems to be in disarray, and decides to investigate. "Oi lads! Whas with all dis 'ootin an runnig about? We needs ta git movin before tha 'umie tanks come!" "It won't work!" "It's not drivin!" "I'm pushin tha pedal but it ain't going!" "We be facked!" "Scruuuunt!!" "Fack! Stop yer blabbering! I can't understand all of yer at once. Yer there! Tha scrunt with tha wrench. Tell me whas going on!" "Well..uhm...yer see..sir....one moment we's all riding tha scrunt limo and 'aving fun, and then suddenly it stops going and we had no more fun. That's all, really." "Huh. So aren't yer tha techno scrunts? Jus fix tha drat thing an git going! I dunno about wheelyboxes, but did you...erm...like...check tha tank?" "Yee we did, sir. Tha tank is still 'alf full an Jorby 'ere climbed in tha front to lick and check tha engine. Tasted fine to 'im. Tha weird thing is tha battery seems ta be out. But it was fine a minute or so ago. Come ta think of it, it stopped workin right after tha scrunt with tha 'at did 'is fancy flashin trick." "Well this be weird allright, but don't yer 'ave some backup battery thingies? Yer lot always carries some gadgets and bits on yer so just use them!" "Ah I see yer know about us techno scrunts, sir! But sadly, it get's even more weird right 'ere!" "More weird than weird?...That's...weirderer?" "Aye yer got a keen mind, sir! I could tell right away. See tha thing is oua backup batteries are dead too! It's like a very strange coincidence." Jorby backs up this story by nodding in the background before licking a battery, and then shrugging his shoulders. "Fack! So what yer saying is thare be stuck 'ere?" "Yessir, rightchuaresir!" "This be bad! Very bad! Tha 'umie tanks are comin and we needs ta git out! They'll jus blast yer down if yer run. An tha scruntmera can't fit all of yer!" "Well sir, I wasn't born a dumb scrunt like me motha always said, and there would be one thing we could do. It's a tough thing though. Dunno if we'r up to it." "Out with it then! Or do yer want ta wait for tha 'umie tanks?!" "Nay, sir, we don't want that!" Jorby supports again, by shaking his head violently. "Well, yer see, sir, tha limo 'as a charga in 'er battery. Highly complex stuff that is. But to a layscrunt like yer, no offense sir, it means tha battery can be charged if we's ta push tha limo for a while. It's a 'eavy limo though." Jorby's shoulders hang this time, and he has a defeated look on his face. "Well, lads. This be an emergency me thinks! An emergency that calls for tha strength of all yer scrunts!" "Yessir! But tha limo is really 'eavy. And we's kinda tired from 'aving fun earlier. I jus don't think we can do it." Jorby sits down, to again support the statement. "Fack! Tha's be weak 'umie talk! Tha scrunt is strong! Tha scrunt will not dishonor tha father!!" "Uhh, sir, what are yer doing? Please git away from me face..urglblrgl.." Grimply jams his palm into the face of the head techno scrunt, while Jorby watches with wide open eyes. "THA POWA OF THA FATHA COMPELS YER! LEAVE YER EARTHLY WORRIES AND FEEL THA POWA OF THA SLAM! BE LIFTED TO 'IS SIDE AN RECEIVE 'IS STRENGTH TA PUSH THA CAR!!!!" ---------------------------------------------- Climbing roll for the rest of my climb 23 vs 47+30(hook) And now I make a deceive roll to have the limo scrunts think the father gives them enough power to push the car until the battery comes back. It's deceive because the father scoffs at their weakness, but hey, mind tricks may help them 91 vs 42 +10(Peer) lol nope let's Fate point that! 43 vs 42 +10(Peer) slightly better ------------------------ "Tha big one" Longshot Sniper Rifle (350m / s/-/- / [damage by ammo type] / [pen by ammo type] / clip 1 / rld full / Accurate) "Ol' Scrunt Eye" Energy Sniper Rifle(Longlas - Basic/ 150m / s/-/- / 1d10+3E(+5E with overload) / pen1(3 with overload) / clip 40(JAMMED) / full round reload / Accurate, Reliable(Unreliable with overload), Felling (1)) GM reminder that I'm very small and have a camo cloak Reminder for me that Grimply forgot about his jammed rifle Tin Tim fucked around with this message at 22:40 on Apr 26, 2015 |
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Apr 26, 2015 17:18
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting while on fire Still on fire, Murdelia zigzags in a broadly easterly direction, bouncing off trees and rocks and shouting incontinently at the sky. Arnika watches her disappear into the undergrowth and goes to help push the Scrunt Limo. ________________ Murdelia is an active threat to those around her so she's wandering in a homeward direction. Arnika is dutiful enough to see that the battlefield still needs work done.
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Apr 27, 2015 14:53
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Groin Sklunger Tauros Bonnette Groin retracts his leg-arm grappling hook, absently brushing off the corpse of the deceased driver as he does. He notices a familiar smiling face pop it's head over the steering wheel; it's his old pal Jekk! He waves at Groin happily, like a puppy excited to see it's master. Groin gives him a thumbs up. Or at least tries to, but ends up using his arm-leg, so it's sort of a foots up. He can feel the effects of the drug wearing off now; he hasn't crashed yet, but he definitely doesn't feel the high anymore... He sits up and carefully surveys the aftermath of battle. Lots of things are on fire, lots of humans are dead, and he can't see any dead scruntrades (scrunt comrades). Good, he thinks. Now what was he doing here again? It hits him like a lightning bolt. THE MISSION! "Awwww sheeeit!!!!" he yells in an alien tongue, which sounds more like "ȻȽȿLJ Dz'ǣǣǣƭİİİİİİ". He yells at Jekk to CAREFULLY drive the Tauros back to the farm. Jekk blinks with a blank face. Groin sighs, and instead motions driving a steering wheel and points in the general direction of the farm. Jekk smiles and seems to understand, as he puts the vehicle in gear while Groin rolls off the bonnet. Groin remembers that the Scruntmera has wedged The Truck into a tree, and needs to be removed before they can escape with the loot. He tumbles, rolls and scampers over to the tank, like a hosed up tiny tumble weed made of scrunt and metal.  He then proceeds to deftly spin into the open passenger compartment, bowls over several scrunts in the process, and rolls into the drivers seat.  He farts triumphantly as he begins to start up the Scruntmera. ______________ Jekk is driving the Scruntauros back to the farm. Groin is going to reverse the Scruntmera, assuming it's working, and drive that back to the farm once everyone is inside.
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Apr 27, 2015 15:12
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Gumbo Bulge, fuel truck of mystery "Pirk!" shouts Gumbo, as he awkwardly drags the human corpse out of the trucks cab "Pirk ya idiot!! Come help me wi this!!" Pirk remains at what he hopes is a safe distance from his incomprehensible and unrecognisable mentor. He is, at least, a little more confident that Gumbo is still Gumbo after seeing him dismember yet another unfortunate human and a little less concerned that the scrunt will turn on him. This assurance begins to fade as the iron shelled scrunt stomps in his direction, screaming incoherently. Pirk retreats too late, and finds his wrist clenched in an unbreakable iron fist. He starts to gibber wildly at Gumbo, who resolves to just ignore this nonsense. "Ahshswjssjawjasbsnakaj!" he squeaks, as Gumbo slings him into the cab of the truck. He collides with the door on the far side and has to peel himself from the window. "Time ta leave, lad" says Gumbo as he clambers into the truck. He depositions himself in the driver's seat, slightly crushing Pirk as he does so. The windows don't seem to be working so he kicks one out with an iron boot and leans out of it. "Come on lads!" he shouts to the confused, disassembled Scrunt strike team. "Back ta tha farm!!" When this has little effect, he decides to start the truck and honk the horn. He turns to the controls and tries to decipher them. There is a button that looks like a starter, so he prods at it with an iron finger, but nothing happens. "Hmm" he muses "Migh' be tougher 'n I though'. Gumbo has retrieved Pirk and is trying to start the truck in the cab.
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Apr 27, 2015 16:49
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Yurik Scraglagger The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Yurik chuckled to himself as he turned and watched over his shoulder as the Sentinel operator's blood-soaked body fell to the ground like an amusing ragdoll, promethium flames quickly setting the humie's corpse alight to burn along with his companions. Ever since the incident that had awakened his phenomenal brain-powers he'd acquired something of a disturbing appreciation for a good immolation (and even before then he'd enjoyed watching things burn as much as the next scrunt, though he'd admittedly had fewer opportunities to indulge himself). Now that the battle was over (more or less) he was free to devote more of his mind's considerable, if rather harrowing, prowess towards loremastering and less towards making people kill themselves in a variety of gruesome and hilarious fashions. For starters, there was this whole business with the fuel truck and its escorts that had been nagging at him ever since they'd discovered that this single truck had not one, not two, not even three, but four separate escorts escorting it. Four! For a single fuel truck! "Nobody guards fuel," the twice-baked humie on the vox had told them. Yurik, of course, knew that for the steaming load of groxshit it was. Everybody guarded fuel. Entire sectors were set ablaze, whole planets were cracked open like skulls, vast crusades were launched all in the name of securing fuel. But this many escorts for a single tanker? Motorized bicycles? Walkers? Tanks? Not even refined promethium was that valuable. Like many scrunts Yurik was inherently paranoid and suspicious of things he didn't understand. For most scrunts that was "everything." Yurik was special (in several senses of the word) in that he did actually understand quite a number of things...but he didn't understand this. Not yet, anyway. Jagged gears whirred away in his head with limb-rending speed as he pondered this latest mystery, nodding approvingly as he watched Grimply administer the Scruntfather's blessing to one of the recalcitrant technoscrunts that had accompanied them. A good scrunt, Grimply. Someone who knew how to get things done. Usually by shooting them in the head with a high-powered rifle. Deep in thought (unfamiliar territory for most scrunts, still fairly hazardous in Yurik's case), he ambled over to the fuel truck where Gumbo was currently attempting to start the engine and clambered into the passenger's seat. This was the first good look he'd gotten at the sergeant since his astonishing transformation. Another nagging feeling joined the first one at the back of his mind as he looked the metal-clad scrunt up and down, beady eyes squinting as he reached out and poked Gumbo experimentally with the end of his thinkin' stick. His eyes narrowed as he directed his gaze towards the road where Murdelia was still combusting, intermittently emitting fiery bursts from her everything. "Hmm...interestin'," was all he said as he kicked back in his seat, feet propped upon Hack's back, and closed his eyes. "Now let's get the fack out of here." Yurik is hitching a ride in the fuel truck.
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Apr 28, 2015 07:30
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Scruntftably Numb The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0ZuYlXzA94 A baseline of paranoia presumably runs through the mind of all scrunts present; no matter their individual agendas, or their inability to track what's going on most of the time, the prospect of imminent firey death galvanises them into action smoothly, even after the last human stops screaming. They still dash around like headless chickens and get everywhere, though. Murdelia sprints off into the distance, trailing flames and hollering incoherently. Nearby scrunts look on incuriously; she has previous form. Groin tumbles into the front seat of the Chimera, wrapping round the controls like a lecherous octopus with a skin condition, gunning the engine, retracting it from under the truck, and lazily spinning donuts in the middle of the road as scrunts and Barrius attempt to get close enough to it to board. Jekk takes up station in the Tauros, brimming with excitrement (it's like excitement, but more scrunty) at finally being given a chance to drive, as a passing technoscrunt takes an interest in the turret. They will be able to get wheels turning, but possibly not all in the same direction. Grumb stomps the Sentinel to and fro as he gets the hang of the controls. He hoses down a patch of forest with jets of napalm as he accidentally hits the big red button, and then hoses down another patch of forest because it's funny. Barry, realising he is in fact alone on the crag, and the captive PDF trooper simply a hallucination, begins his long, slow, trembling descent. Gumbo, by process of elimination, figures out which pedals do what. Unfortunately, he's too short to both see out of the windscreen and stomp on the pedals, so the truck slowly and lazily wends its way south, tipping precariously as it veers from side to side. The scruntgeant can't drive this thing alone, but also can't currently communicate in any meaningful way. Still, in a couple of minutes he'll be in a communicative state again. A large chunk of iron shell's already fallen off where Yurik prodded him. More to the point, the glove compartment on the passenger side flies open as Yurik props his boots up on the dashboard, spilling papers everywhere! The window's still open and Gumbo's veering wildly, they'll get everywhere! The scrunts that have remained with the limo look about in abject confusion. They can't push their limo north - they'll get flamed, and most of the area's on fire. They can't push their limo east - they'll run into Groin. They can't push their limo south - the truck's in the way. They compromise by pushing the limo round in a wide circle under Grimply's watching gaze, shouting SLAM SECTOR SCRUNT FATHER LORD DRAGON as they whirl faster and faster. Wait, where did that last bit come from? They go at it for a minute or two, occasionally breaking off to vomit. Things seem fairly orderly, in scrunt terms, until... The Crash The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0ZkhlJUQAM It starts with a crash. Then a roar. Then a shaking of the ground. The wall of sound is indescribable. The thashing, crashing, clashing noise of a thousand lead bars the size of continents slamming together. The sonic wave floors the scrunts, knocking the weaker members from their feet as they scream, wordlessly, drowned out by the din. They wait for death with more than the usual scrunt urgency, but it doesn't come. This noise isn't an artillery barrage - it's coming from the crags! The crags which, incidentally, Barry is halfway down. Understandably, the gunner's companion loses his grip as he claps both hands over his ears in panic. He plummets from halfway down the cliff face, smacking off it once or twice, before crashing through the branches of a stunted tree at the base of the crags. Astoundingly, he's still moving feebly as he lies in his crater, pawing at the air with his one remaining good arm. If no-one comes for him, he's a goner. The noise recedes, eventually, but by the point the drugged-up scrunts get their wits about them, they've realised the effects of the drugs they've taken have receded too. Gumbo squats in amidst a pile of iron shavings; Murdelia lies in the fetal position in a coccoon of scorched grass, off to the east; Groin slumps in his seat like a sandbag. Something has been taken from them, and unfortunately, they have a very good idea on how to get it back. The noise begins again, but lesser, weaker. Fearful scrunts turn their heads to the west, and realise their time is up. The artillery barrage has begun; they see streaks of smoke whistling down past the crags, to the west, creeping slowly towards them. It might be time to make an exit. ------ scrrunnnnnnt Yurik needs +10 Ag to capture flying papers, if he wants them. Or he can get out and collate them with no roll, but he'll be out of the truck and time spent arsing around doing this will mean he can't get up to much else. Any scrunts with Total Recall: you're not a scrunt with Total Recall stop reading this you little poo poorealise the cacophony is an immeasurably louder recording, reenactment, or playback of the rockslide kicked off by Grumb Barry can be rescued narratively. We still ain't got shells incoming in your area yet, although they are very imminent. Scrunts on comedown from EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG: one level of Fatigue, and lose two points from two characteristics (your choice). These points do not heal like regular characteristic damage, but are returned on consumption of another dose of EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG Urok will die in the barrage and be replaced by Andrluk once you get back to the farm. You're heading there, right? Pretty sure that was mentioned. If not, do shout. Kreb clings tenuously to life due to recent posting.
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Apr 28, 2015 21:59
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Yurik Scraglagger The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Yurik's self-satisfied eye-rest was short-lived, Hack jerking upright beneath his feet as the glove compartment popped open and hit him in the head before a flurry of paper spilled out into the cabin of the tanker. The startled psycrunt jerked and swore as his would-be nap was rudely interrupted, but his eyes gleamed with avarice as he caught sight of the bounty swirling around the cabin. Papers! Documents! Possibly even missives. To most scrunts none of these would be anything special, but Yurik knew that papers like these contained information, and his rewired brain hungered for fresh knowledge and secrets as voraciously as the average scrunt hungered for booze, illicit stimulants, and toxic runoff. His reaction was as immediate as it was inevitable. Vaulting off of Hack's head he launched himself out through the window that Gumbo had kicked open, clawing and snatching at the fluttering, flying papers with maniacal determination like the world's most malodorous Administratum cleric. Then the noise hit. Literally, in fact. The crashing wave of sound was so intense that it was like a physical blow, the fluids in his ears (among others) being churned into an equilibrium-ruining froth. He frantically jammed papers into his ears in a futile attempt to block the cacophony that was doing terrible and unpleasant things to his internal organs, his angry screams and curses swallowed up by the unrelenting wall of sound. Through it all his mind, assailed as it was, noticed something unusual...this sound was familiar. Amplified by a ludicrous amount, yes, but familiar nonetheless. Yes, there...he remembered that particular clattering sound. And there! That rumbling! There was no doubt about it, the soundwave concussively assaulting them was a perfect recreation of the sounds that had ensued when Grumb had kicked off the rockslide meant to block the western part of the crossroads off. Just a million billion times louder (at a rough estimate, give or take a few thousand decibels). It all added up to a single, inescapable conclusion...that the indescribable agony he was currently experiencing was all Grumb's fault. Grumb Slanger, that son of a scrunt, was going to pay for this. Just as soon as he could hear again. Yurik dives from the truck to save what I can only assume is the driver's insurance information and totally not future plot hooks.
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Apr 29, 2015 00:50
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in confusion Arnika was really getting into the spinny shouty pushing thing, even if her runty size meant her contribution was more to the shouting than the pushing. Then the sound smashed her in the noggin and she went spinning off in a completely different direction, ears ringing and bleeding as the world silently tilted and wobbled. Stumbling off in a random direction, she was stopped by the unexpected obstacle of a bleeding scrunt lying in a tiny, filthy crater. After tripping over the prone form and vomiting on it, she remembers her medical training "A bleedin' scrunt on th' field o' battle c'n be used as c'ver, c'rrency, or c'mpanionship" and drags the unidentified scrunt off in a helpful direction. Maybe to the limo?
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Apr 30, 2015 14:17
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Grumb Slanger, inside the walkybox "AY! HAY, WHAT THE FECK'RE YOU DOIN' UP 'ERE? DANGOL, GITOFF MA WALKYBOX!" Grumb shouts, trying to grab at Kreb's feet as he clambers to the top of the driver-cage. Distracted with his friend, Grumb bonks the sentinel into a large tree. It staggers back for a moment before he regains control. "Feckin', FINE! If yer gonna climb up there yeh may as well make yerself useful. Point me the way! I canna see poo poo." The two of them begin making their way back towards the scrunt encampment together [or at least, the direction Pernicious Kreb claims is the way back], intermittently scorching trees and bushes as they merrily go along. ---------------- Grumb, never revered for his attention span, has always been quite susceptible to New Toy Syndrome. He has forgotten about his responsibilities and is hightailing it home. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 19:32 on May 1, 2015 |
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May 1, 2015 19:30
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Barry Szcemanski-Slanger, dragged by the foot. Barry wakes briefly as his head is dragged over a mossy rock. He looks up, which turns out to be down, and gets an eyeful of dirt. Then he looks down, which turns out to be up, and sees that he is being dragged to safety by a glorious, shining angel. Her face is like the sun, and her voice is a beautiful, high-pitched ringing accompanied by the sound of rushing water. Barry had never seen something so beautiful in his entire life. He begins violently vomiting, and passes out. Arnika rolls him over face-down.
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May 1, 2015 19:43
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Gumbo Bulge, fuel truck of mystery "-RGE! SARGE! SARGE!" screams Pirk, grabbing for the wheel which is no longer clutched in Gumbo's iron hands - in fact, where are his iron hands? What has happened? A wave of exhaustion strikes Gumbo, and he feels woozy. On his seat and across the floor of the truck are chunks of iron - things slowly start to make sense. "I was the iron scrunt" he mumbles. "SARGE! SARGE!" continues Pirk, so Gumbo slaps him about the face, then takes the wheel. "Is tha all yav bin shoutin this ole time?" "You was actin all weird an I didn know what to do Sarge." Pirk still looks worried, so Gumbo decides to change the subject. "Yurk? Whers Yurk? E was wiv us" he asks, ripping a loose sheet of paper from the windscreen in front of him and stuffing it into a compartment in the door. "He jumped out! Out that window!" squeeks Pirk, as another sheet is ripped out of the cab by the wind. Gumbo tries to poke his head out the window with little success. Another sheet of paper gets stuck on Gumbo, and he reads CONFIDENTIAL before he snatches it and hands it to Pirk. "Th paper? Hmm, he's righ'. Could be summin useful, more targets. Gather up them papers Pirk, wer goin back to tha farm wiv the objective. Hope th others keep up" Driving back to the farm, Gumbo has navigate. Still need to reduce his stats will do so before next post
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May 2, 2015 11:43
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Groin Sklunger Scruntmera "Nyhghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....", grunted Groin, scruntily. _______ Groin continues to drive the Chimera toward the direction of the farm, only slightly slower and more erratically due to his drug come-down.
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May 2, 2015 17:58
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Ti- Ti- Time Is Running Out The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Adz32EMA_M8 Brushing aside corroded metal, Pirk dives between Gumbo's outstretched legs, much to the dismay of onlookers. It's only to stomp on the relevant pedals as Gumbo shouts instructions, though - the young scrunt might be choking on iron filings but at least he's somewhat sheltered from what's going on outside. More thundering booms crash out from the crags, but nothing like the initial cacophonous onslaught. These sound almost like cracking explosions; they're different from the gentle pop of the firestorm shells and the low, bowel-trembling thud of the traditional earthshaker rounds. En masse, the scrunts appear to revert to crude instinct, and they attempt to retreat to the last safe place they knew. Still, it's not an all-out rout. The limousine kicks into life, revving and spluttering, and the panicking technoscrunts pile in like a faintly less disturbing clown car; Gumbo gets the truck working after a fashion, and ponderously swings it round to point east, vague memories of the map printout flickering through his exhausted mind - at least Yurik is there to remind him, flicking through his sheaf of documents, if he takes a wrong turn. Groin weaves the Chimera dizzily across the roadway as Scurrilous lurks in the turret, slowly recharging his batteries and smoking an oily rollup. Grimply clamps himself to the top of the Chimera; he seems to have acquired a taste for being higher than those around him. The Tauros put-put-putts behind at a fraction of its top speed, as Jekk keeps a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the random technoscrunt occasionally fires the mounted grenade launcher at interesting-looking bits of scenery. Grumb minces his scruntinel after the convoy, desperately attempting to keep up, as Kreb hangs off the back of the driver's cab, bouncing up with every step and yee-ing desperately. There is some semblance of order to the retreat; Arnika harrasses the limoscrunts into stopping to pick up the comatose Murdelia who's made it a few feet down the road, and the scrunts seem content with what they've got. They leave the shattered vehicle shells behind them, along with the functional motorbikes, and appear happy to simply get out of the line of fire with all scrunts intact. Well, most scrunts. Urok has shrugged off any attempt to bundle him into a vehicle, with a snarl and a backhand. Maybe the sonic assault's knocked something loose in his head, or maybe he's just always wanted to fist-fight a tank, but the brawler stays in the combat zone, close to the rockslide, and waits. He doesn't need to wait long, but occupies his time with collecting the heads of the biker squad - cocking his remaining grenades and jamming them under the remains, presumably in case any of them escape the coming firestorm. He barely registers the thundering booms, or the distant revving of Leman Russ engines, as he clambers up and over the debris and scree, and sets off into the oncoming inferno. The vehicles speed off east, leaving hell behind them. ---------- By this point the scrunts are getting quite good at differentiating crashing explosions. This latest one was a doozy; shades of rockfall, juddering dislocation, with a pleasing overture of heavy ordnance. The convoy has just crested a small hill - whipping out his scruntnoculars, Grimply's worst fears are confirmed. The artillery barrage, coupled with a few well-placed battlecannon shells, has dislodged a considerable chunk of the rockslide blocking the two Leman Russes from following the scrunts! In the distance, he can see tank crew members working together to shift some of the smaller boulders, while the tanks themselves bulldoze the largest rocks out of the way. Grimply looks at the huge plumes of smoke billowing from the Chimera and limo's exhaust, as well as the trail of skidmarks, broken trees and puddles of oil that makes up any scrunty journey of more than about ten feet, and swallows, hard. The tanks might not be as fast as the scrunt convoy, but any idiot can follow smoke signals. --------- scrrunnnnt Scrunts with Total Recall will realise that the crags are replaying and amplifying the sound of Grumb's autocannon, shot by shot, as well as any explosions that hit them Urok dies. Scrunts have had about fifteen minutes in which to do scrunty things, change vehicles, reload, sort out equipment, take up station on turrets, get First Aid, boss the limo scrunts around, do whatever they fancy, etc. Also, you're going to be followed by tanks. If you don't do anything, they'll follow you home and gently caress you up, and you know this. You probably can't take them in combat, in that you don't have anything that can pierce their front armour, and they've got nasty weapons. Even if you could take them in combat there's no way in hell I'm letting you loot two Leman Russes at this point in the game, so there's not much reason. Instead, you're going to use skills to avoid them. What you do is up to you - you have narrative freedom to describe the route back to the farm. Someone's presumably going to want to come up with some way of masking the exhaust, and either doing it or getting someone else to do it. Apart from that, you'll have to do whatever you think is sensible to throw the tanks off your trail - this could be Operate tests to weave through rough terrain onto another road, it could be Strength tests to move tree trunks and stones at a fork in the road to make it look like you took the other branch, it could be literally anything you want so long as it makes sense and isn't a blatant pisstake like "I destroy the only bridge ever!!". The goal is deception rather than prevention. I will give bonuses to smart plans and penalties to lazy ones. Any questions, scrunt over to the recruitment thread. I want one test from each of you, and the number of successes will dictate whether you've barely escaped, whether you've vanished like a fart in the night, or whether there'll be Baneblade squads and a Titan waiting when you get back to the farm. (if you've got stuff you wanted to do before leaving the combat zone but didn't get a chance to post, just put it as a "before leaving, [scrunt] tries to _____" bit at the start of your post. I forgot I'm gonna be out on Tuesday so I'm updating early, and I don't want to punish people for not scrunting several days before they thought they'd have to) Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 23:43 on May 2, 2015 |
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May 2, 2015 23:17
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Yurik Scraglagger The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Yurik lay there in a daze, ears ringing and head pounding as the mysterious and mind-rattling wave of sound finally faded away. Shakily pulling himself to his feet, he did the only thing he could think to do in a situation like this...he vomited profusely. Fortunately he was able to avoid vomiting on the papers that he had leaped from the comfort and safety of the fuel tanker to retrieve. The fuel tanker which, even now, was driving away without him. "You fackers!," he shouted hoarsely, his own voice sounding mute and distant in his ears as he quickly scooped up as many papers as he could in his arms before running after the truck as fast as his tiny, hosed up legs would carry him. "Get back here! Slow down! Wait for meeeeeee!" *** Yurik was a lot of things...obnoxious, irascible, insufferable, arrogant, and malodorous among others...but what he wasn't was athletic. Physical exertion was for scrunts who weren't smart enough to become loremasters with amazing brain powers. Most of the time the only real effect this had was Yurik being picked last whenever a rousing game of scruntball was convened, but in this particular case what it meant was that despite the rather uncoordinated driving thanks to Gumbo and Pirk's combined efforts he still had the Scruntfather's own time catching up to the lurching, drunkenly listing cab until Hack opened the door and extended one greasy hand, beckoning the loremaster to grab hold. Fortunately not being athletically inclined meant that Yurik wasn't weighed down by troublesome things like muscle, and so his assistant was able to (with some horking and rasping) haul him aboard, a pile of sweat-soaked papers clutched to his chest with a death grip. For several minutes all he could do was slump over on the seat making a noise that went something like "eeeeeeeeeeeeeh hhhhhhhuhhhhhhh...eeeeeeeeeeeeeh hhhhhhhuhhhhhhh...eeeeeeeeeeeeeh hhhhhhhuhhhhhhh," face nearly as red as his robes. "You...fackin'...fackers," he finally wheezed once the ability to speak returned to him. "I'm gonna...do something horrible...in your brains...you mark my words..." Shoving himself upright (and resisting the urge to vomit again) he took stock of the situation with the lightning mental reflexes of a certified loremaster. They were in a truck...being chased by tanks...aaaaaand that was about it, really. The first point was all to the good, but that second point, that could be a problem. You couldn't fiddle around inside a tank's brain-bits and make it shoot its friends, and while there were humies inside of it whose brains he could to terrible things to, as long as they stayed buttoned up behind tons of steels and ceramite then they might as well be on Terra. Fighting tanks wasn't an option either, though he was sure that Grumb would love to try. That left escaping from them. There were a few problems with that plan however, first and foremost the fact that the vehicles they were driving weren't really made for speed, but also that, like most internal combustion powered vehicles, they were emitting noticeable clouds of promethium smoke from various exhaust ports. This presented something of a conundrum, but Yurik wasn't a loremaster for nothing. He squinted and adopted a traditional loremaster thinking pose, chin propped upon his hand, as he wracked his brain for the solution to their dilemma. What they needed was a path to follow that would conceal their advance...high canyon walls to obscure their smoke trail, terrain that helped conceal them from visual observation, possibly even paved roads that could disguise their tracks. The answers were right there before him in his mind's eye... Unfortunately the map he had memorized was memorized exactly as he'd studied it, which meant it was currently upside down in relation to how they were driving, not to mention the sheer size of it meant that he could only visualize so much of it at a time. "Er...go, uh, left up here," he told Gumbo, attempting to disguise the uncertainty in his voice with something like confidence which, in Yurik's case, came out more like belligerence. "No no no, your OTHER left! No! Your OTHER other left! THAT left!" Rolling Scholastic Lore: Malbrathian Geography in conjunction with my Total Recall'd map I studied earlier to find us a path that minimizes our trackability and I flub with a hilariously terrible 94 and I have no fate points to spare since I spent them all making people kill themselves.
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May 5, 2015 07:29
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Groin Sklunger Scruntmera, Escaping Groin decides to stop the Scruntmera, gets out, and uses his Fire Grenades to attempt to start a forest fire. He spends a few minutes perceiving where the best place to put the grenades would be, before doing so and setting them off; in a scrunty fashion. _____ Groin carefully sets Fire Grenades in key spots to try and start a forest fire in order to create a smoke screen for the convoy's escape. Rolled 14! on a Perception check, I'm gay Moola fucked around with this message at 19:16 on May 10, 2015 |
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May 6, 2015 22:50
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Moola posted:I want to drive around the forest like a lunatic, setting fire to as much poo poo as possible in an attempt to mask our smoke trail with a smoke screen from a forest fire. Groin will do this by throwing fire grenades, and shooting fire shells! what are you actually rolling against like, what skill or characteristic do you see yourself testing here
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May 6, 2015 23:04
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I'm still in the scruntinel right?
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May 6, 2015 23:15
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Well, "on", but yes
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May 6, 2015 23:24
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Grumb Slanger, inside the walkybox Grumb Slanger merrily trundles along in his new ride, falling into place behind the truck as it gradually becomes clear that Pernicious Kreb doesn't know which way they're supposed to be going. Grumb glances up at his friend as they ride, squinching up his face in concern as he watches Kreb rock back and forth mumbling to himself. There was definitely something... off with Pernicious Kreb lately. He wasn't his usual aggressive self. There was something skittish about him, like a paranoid amphetamine addict. His eyes darted about nervously as he chewed on his scarf, occasionally gurgling. All of a sudden, something catches Kreb's attention. He whips his head around, peering off into the distance behind them. Whatever he had seen, it clearly frightened him. Eyes widening, he grabbed at Grumb's face from above. "SKREEEE," Kreb wheezed urgently, scratching and wrenching Grumb's head around wildly. "Fack off, Kreb, Dangol gitcher mitts off my 'do!" Grumb hisses back, losing control of the sentinel. It begins to stagger about, traipsing away in the opposite direction from the tanker truck as it hangs right through an intersection. Seeing his friends slip away from him, Grumb slams his fists on the big angry buttons and yanks the grabby sticks desperately back towards the truck. He spins the turnywheel and activates the buzzsaw, causing the cockpit to spin wildly on its axis as the sentinel crab-walks awkwardly to the side. Kreb loses grip of Grumb's head and nearly flies off, hanging onto the bars tightly with his feet as he squeals and curses. Could he always do that? Grumb wonders. The two make their way back to the convoy, gradually regaining control after having stomped their walkybox wildly around the intersection. They've raised a big cloud of dust and felled several of the smaller trees behind them, inadvertently obscuring the path behind somewhat. ----------------------- Operating test to pilot the sentinel in a manner which stomps out our tracks and chops down trees to obscure the path behind us. I rolled an 89, so I probably didn't accomplish very much. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 02:12 on May 9, 2015 |
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May 9, 2015 02:09
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Grimply, surfin the scruntmera Grimply lowers his scruntnocular, and spits a sticky loogie at a surprised bird while the scruntmera barrels past the tree it was nesting in. He already had the feeling that the scrunt ambush took too long, and now he knows it. The humie tanks are following them! If they don't do something about this, they'll find their scrunt farm and probably kill every scrunt that's there! Having some scrunts be lifted up to the father's side is perfectly okay with Grimply, but if all of them die then there's no one left to find the Slam Sector. Though, on second thought, if all of them die then Grimply will be dead too and can finally take his place at the trash table of the father! He savours this thought for a moment, but then a faint voice in the back of his head tells him that it's not right. He has been given a task, and he can only earn his place in the after-slam by completing it. He briskly hands the scruntnocular back to Flet, and then bangs on the turret hatch until it pops open and a dopey eyed scrunt looks up at him. "Whassat?" "Lad, we's got a problem. Tha 'umie tanks are on oua trail an' wes needs ta do something about that. We can nay let 'em reach oua farm! Yer needs ta get on tha talky box and tell tha othas that we needs ta deal with this!" "Uhh..roight then...but ermm.. like what are we's ta do about them?" "For fack's sake, lad! We're gonna...uhh...well...I'm sure that....like...fack jus gimme a minute will ya?!" "Roight!" replies the scrunt before closing the hatch again. Grimply is a little confused, because he actually does not have a plan. He felt like he had one, but it's not there anymore. The tanks will follow them, and he does not see a way how to stop them. Unless...unless they stand and fight? He doesn't really know if they can win, but if they fight at least the tanks will not find the farm and then some scrunts will be left to find the slam on their own? But before Grimply can follow this thought further, a familiar smell hits his nose. He turns around and sees Flet peering through the scruntnocular. The little scrunt is trembling with fear, and a small but steaming puddle of piss is forming around his feet. "Fack! Flet whas tha matter with yer?!" Grimply bellows. "Ta--ta--tanks...thare..thare be big tanks!" "Yeah me knows! But thas no reason ta piss yerself! What would tha fatha say about that hmm?? If we's gonna git it today then my apprentice will not face tha fatha with pissed pants! Get them things off an throw them on tha 'ot part of tha wheelybox. Maybe they'll dry fast enough....Fack, sometimes I just nay know what to do with yer!" With a guilty look, Flet complies and Grimply gets back to thinking. So, stand and die it probably is. It would mean that he fails his task, but maybe the father will forgive him because he saved the other scrunts at the farm? There really isn't much else to be done here. But while he follows this line of thought, he suddenly notices something.  The smoke! Yes! The tanks follow their smoke! "Flet! Yer a genoius!" Grimply shouts excitedly "Uhmm...I..I am?.." "Yes yer are, me boy! Get off tha rest of yer clothes and throw em on thare too and then yer gonna piss like yer never pissed before!" "Uhmm, mastah. Are yer sure about this?" "YES I AM NOW DO IT!!!" "YEE!!" Grimply also takes off his ragged cloak and pants, throws them over the other exhaust pipe and gets to pissing. It's a majestic sight to see two naked scrunts pissing as hard as they can on top of a speeding chimera! Well, it's majestic if you're a real weirdo but with scrunt likers you can never know. But while pissing as best has he can, Grimply notices that the two of them don't hold enough piss to fully quell the smoke. The clothes start to dry again and they can't keep pissing forever, as nice as that thought may be.They'll need some help with this. Grimply stomps over to the turret hatch again, and bangs on it once more. "Whassat?" the dopey eyed scrunt answers again. "Uuuhh...why tha fack are yer naked?" "Listen yer dumb facker I needs some of yer lads up 'ere to take turns pissing on me clothes!" "........roight....Uhm..if yer wants ta be freaky yer can wait until we're back at tha farm, yer know?" Grimply stares at him, and then swiftly produces his scrunt knife from his magboots and shouts "I CAN BE ALL KINDS OF OTHA THINGS IF YER NAY DO WHAT I TELLS YER!!" "Ye--Yee! Roight! Fack, no need ta be an rear end in a top hat about it!" "Good lad! An' tell one of tha otha scrunts ta use tha talky box an tell tha limo scrunts ta do tha same as we's!" "Fack, I knew yer religious types was weird but this sounds like a..." "STOP FACKING AROUND AND JUS DO IT YOU BLOODY FACKIN SCRUNT!!" ---------------------------------------------- rolling to piss for stealth 40 vs 47+20(camo cloak) though I'm not sure if I really should get the bonus from the cloak because I'm technically pissing on it. But hey, maybe the nano fibre is extra good at dampening the smoke?? ------------------------ "Tha big one" Longshot Sniper Rifle (350m / s/-/- / [damage by ammo type] / [pen by ammo type] / clip 1 / rld full / Accurate) "Ol' Scrunt Eye" Energy Sniper Rifle(Longlas - Basic/ 150m / s/-/- / 1d10+3E(+5E with overload) / pen1(3 with overload) / clip 40(JAMMED) / full round reload / Accurate, Reliable(Unreliable with overload), Felling (1)) GM reminder that I'm very small and have a camo cloak Reminder for me that Grimply forgot about his jammed rifle, and now has piss drenched clothes Tin Tim fucked around with this message at 18:31 on May 10, 2015 |
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May 10, 2015 14:54
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Pernicious Kreb, Scruntinel Sworn to avenge, condemned to hell, tempt not the blade of the scruuuuuuntineeeeeel The spin-cycle in the scruntinel somehow, amazingly, shakes some sense into Kreb. The dull, pulsing chant of CONSUME BIOMASS AND REPRODUCE quiets for a moment. Kreb remembers his younger years, scurrying around in the poisonous smoke-stack-sewers of his homeworld. A purer, more innocent time. How had he sunk this low, become so depraved? Kreb really doesn't know. But he does know that he saw something that spooked him. Kreb, being a coward, spooks pretty easily, but this time had been different. What he'd seen was no ganger, no techpriest, not even a rampaging arbites. No, he'd experienced true fear. A fear that bit into his soul. A fear that CONSUME BIOMASS AND REPRODUCE. Kreb scampers up to the roof of the scruntinel, to huddle amongst the soothing promethium exhaust fumes, and to get a better look at the forest and see if he can see the thing that he saw that he really didn't want to see. Kreb is going to do a full action aim to prepare for a called shot on the tanks treads juggalo baby coffin fucked around with this message at 00:38 on May 11, 2015 |
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May 10, 2015 20:31
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in a limo Murdelia was having the most wonderful dream. She was a fiery goddess, striding across the land. All fell in awe of her radiant glory as they were incinerated by her glorious... radiance. There was a lot of screaming and melting, alright? It was a good dream. A sudden jolt and Murdelia's head is slammed into the metal floor. "FIRE!" she gasps as she jerks up, arms flailing wildly. The nearby scrunts fail to melt, but they do look uncomfortable. Arnika is sitting on top of an unconscious Barry, working intensely on some drawing-thing. She pipes up "Oh yes Mistressus, Groin is doing that." And indeed, Groin is running around outside the window waving incendiary grenades, and a cloud of smoke is rising from somewhere in the underbrush. "He's a good sort, that Groin." "Oh. That's good." Murdelia sighs, slightly disappointed. She had wanted to be the one to do that. It had come to her in a dream, after all. She has to settle for a splitting headache and the smell of burnt hair. After a few more minutes of sitting morosely and trying to set nearby scrunts on fire with her mind, Murdelia finds herself drawn by curiosity. "What's you got there, young Arnika?" she demands. Arnika turns the sheet of cardboard over, revealing a stylised !!SLAM SECTOR! drawn in crayons. The nearby scrunts gasp collectively, and the literate ones almost pass out from excitement. A few even stammer out hasty courting phrases like "I-I-I gots a trash heap a mile high, see, won it in a game", "M'lady, eh, uh, m'lady", and "Feck!" This is drowned out by a rising chant of "SLAM SECTOR! SLAM SECTOR! SLAM SECTOR!" which aggravates Murdelia's headache fiercely. After out-shouting the nearby scrunts, she loudly explains "We ain't goin' to the' Slam Sector! We's goin' to th' Farm! Oh feck, th' tanks!" After a brief panic, a crafty look creeps into her eyes. "Humans're smart, but we can be smarter. They might think we's goin' to th' Sector, but we's not. But we need somethin' big and tricky to trick 'em..." The next crossroad has a crumbling building at the intersection, with a bit of graffiti on it. The Neon Snakes Gang left their mark in bright pink, covering up some old stencilled signs, but the main draw is the large, flat wall surface. Murdelia explains her cunning plan and grabs materials from the technoscrunt hoard. A few minutes later "They'll think we went one way, roight? But we went the other way." she expounds, cheerfully slapping some more glow-in-the-dark paint on the wall, "But we drive down the other other way a bit so it looks like we did, roight?"  It is perhaps too effective. The scrunts viewing it are legitimately drawn to the right and refuse to deviate back to the farm road. The convoy is thrown into disarray as Murdelia and some more clear-headed scrunts try to convince the rest that it's not really to the right, it's a bit of trickiness and oh feck. The crossroads and a decent stretch of road in each direction are strewn with vehicle tracks, debris and effluence as the scrunts mill around in gleeful confusion, egging each other on and forgetting what they were doing. ________________________________________ Ok, trying a Fellowship-type roll to herd scrunts, explain a complicated plan, and keep them on track against the lure of a giant fluorescent SLAM SECTOR sign. 70 vs 42, uh oh Fate rereroll 19 vs 42 Skellybones fucked around with this message at 00:56 on May 12, 2015 |
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May 11, 2015 00:59
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Gumbo Bulge, fuel truck of mystery The truck swerves alarming from side to side as Yurik grabs at the wheel. "Yurk? Wherev ya? Ah nevah mind, Get off me y'idjit, or ah'll throw ya back out ta window!" The truck hurtles over a bump and everyone in the cab strikes the ceiling, except for Pirk, who strikes the underside of the wheel. Gumbo kicks him away from the pedals. "We needs to slow down - don't even know where wes goin! gently caress ahm tired" he rubs at his tiny eyes "Less jus - stop th' truck, ah need to think" As the truck slowly rumbles to a stop, he peers backwards out of the broken window, a manoeuvre that requires gripping the edges of the window and wrenching most of his body outside. The road behind them is scuffed and oily, plants and grass are crushed and the truck is leaking smoke. A small, rabbit like creature is splattered across the road. Behind them the convoy is starting to catch up. "Wes leavin too much of a trail, Yurk. We needs to find som'ere we can drive wivout all tha mess. Ya remember the map, righ??" Yurik seems uncertain, so Gumbo shakes him. He throws up into the footwell and Pirk squeaks and scrambles away from the steaming scrunt sludge. Gumbo shakes Yurik again. "We needs ta find anovver road Yurk! A new road! An we needs to get ther wivout makin a mess." Gumbo tries to remember the map and beside him Yurik scruntches up his face in what Gumbo hopes is an attempt to help. They'll have to be careful, at least when they're leaving the road, and they'll want the tanks to miss the turning. "We needs to make em think we went anovva way, Yurk. Make a big mess further on an then hide where we gone. Maybe we oughta find som'un who can drive this better n me" He hops out of the cab to go explain his plan to the rest of the Scrunts and hopes Yurik can remember the map well enough to find a good route. Gumbo's plan is to leave this road and find a less obvious route to the farm. As well as this he wants to make a false trail along the main road, at least until the next side road, then try to hide the route they have taken. This will hopefully combine with the other plans, (graffiti on the false turn etc) etc. He has navigate surface and knowledge tactics which I'm hoping will make the false trail easier. He is very tired. Potentially fellowship to convince the limo scrunts to help with the false trail/hiding the real road?
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May 11, 2015 12:42
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Mungly Mung - Breaking loose As the limousine hits a bump in the road, something seems to give and the limo's trunk pops open. A cloud of smoke bellows out for a second to reveal a coughing, sputtering creature who's first reaction to the sudden onset of sunlight and fresh air is to vomit out the back of the still moving vehicle. After doing what passes for composing himself, he shouts out loud to nobody in particular "Whazzit da gently caress with this stupid fakkin trunk. Pilot lights make bad welding torches ya pack of ijits, why'd ya make cut myself out of that shitheap?." Seemingly oblivious to the impending danger Mungly scampers from the open trunk and tumbles into the skylight of the limo, with his mecha rats following behind him. "Whazzit with all the glum faces?" he asks to the nearby technoscrunts. "Yall's acting like we're bein' chased by a tank." When the others in the car inform Mungly that they are in fact being chased by tanks, he panics momentarily. Throwing himself into the front seat he becomes a whirling dervish of elbows, teeth, and flying cyber rats until he gets himself situated firmly in the driver's seat. He calms himself down enough to pay what amounts to attention to the other's shoutings, and when he hears Gumbo suggestion a diversion he shouts back "HOW'S THIS FOR A BIG MESS YOU DIRTY FAKKER" as he jams on a pedal he thought was the gas. When nothing happens he stops for a moment, consults the cheat sheet written on his cloak, and pushes the correct pedal in an attempt to burn out down a side road while kicking up as much dirt and poo poo as possible. Doing a operate vehicle test to try and create a diversionary path and kick up as much poo poo as possible to bring the attention of the tanks. I've got +5 to operate from my flak cloak and I'll spend a fate point if I'm going to critically fail and crash into a tree or something. Edit: My Operate Vehicle(ground) is at trained if that wasn't obvious. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 17:35 on May 15, 2015 |
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May 14, 2015 01:10
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Andrluk The barrel was compressed tight around him, and Andrluk found himself clutched tightly against his Favorite Thing. He wasn't used to this level of intimacy with an inanimate object, and found that the monomolecular teeth of the massive chain weapon were capable of slicing his flesh deeply if he moved. After several attempts he got the hint and stayed put. Around him the world seemed to hum and whirr, then thunk, then with a WHOOSH Andrluk felt gravity disappear. Fortunately the barrel provided enough resistance for him to press against and remain immobile. Outside things started to roar and shake, and slowly Andrluk felt the tug of gravity return. He remembered something about vacoom and how being outside the ship was supposed to kill you, but apparently being in a tightly compressed barrel helped with that. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that things were getting pretty warm. The barrel suddenly lurched, and Andrluk's Favorite Thing smacked against the side of the barrel. The activation stud whirred for a second, gouging a hole in the barrel but thankfully avoiding any of Andrluk's more important arteries. Outside Andrluk saw clouds and sun. Inside the barrel the light shone around, revealing that not everything pressing into him was hard and metallic. In fact he found his face pressed against a curious, rather soft object with a friendly red handle. There was a bit of writing that looked important, but literacy was not Andrluk's forte. pre:Parachute, Man-Rated, Emergency Munitorium Issue MXX-31-Alpha-Tau Not For Orbital Insertion pre:MUNITORIUM CODE OMEGA COMPONENT DAMAGED AND NOT SUITABLE FOR USE DISCARD IMMEDIATELY The parachute floats down. The rush of air passing by Andrluk's ears makes it impossible for him to hear the occasional *TWANG* of a cord breaking. Parachuting, Agility 54: http://orokos.com/roll/288488: 1d100 38
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May 14, 2015 04:16
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The Scrunts Are Back In Town In Transit Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYoYb1xluG0 To a scrunt under stress, fifteen minutes can sometimes feel like a lifetime. As much as two weeks! The average scrunt lifetime. On the plus side, once a general sense of "holy poo poo we're being followed" propagates through the herd, the scrunts are able to utilise this strange time dilation effect, and use it to make considered tactical choices. Or if they're just doing the first thing that comes to mind, at least they hide it well. Yurik starts things off with a bang by directing the convoy in entirely the wrong direction. Such are his instructions that the entire convoy manages to spin 180 and head directly towards the tanks. Kreb aims carefully at the vehicles before realising that actually they're getting bigger, and begins loudly hissing - the other scrunts, long inured to his peculiar ways, manage to successfully interpret this as a warning, and bring themselves to bear once again. No harm done, but a few precious minutes have been wasted. Hopefully no-one notices - at least the psyscrunt has his papers to riffle through, as a consolation prize. Groin notices, though. A suspicious scrunt at the best of times, he quickly cottons on to the fact that the tanks should be in his rear view mirror. He leaps to the only logical conclusion - treachery! He reacts as only a scrunt on severe combat drug comedown can - seemingly at random! In an attempt to get as far away from whichever traitorous scrunt tried to lead them to the enemy, he embarks on a series of cunning evasive manoeuvres by immediately veering off road and plowing through shrubs and small trees, screeching at the top of his voice and hurling firebombs about the place in an attempt to sow confusion and discord. Some raw animal intelligence guides Groin's armleg, as he kickthrows grenades into bundles of old leaves and under logs sheltered by foliage. Somehow, in the middle of a sodden forest, mere weeks before monsoon season hits, Groin manages to start a fairly respectable forest fire. Grumb has some reason to be pleased by this. His attempts at trampling the scrunt's path have borne unfortunate fruit; rather than obscuring the direction they're travelling in, some ill-judged chainsaw work has actually made some quite large conifers fall in the shape of a giant arrow pointing, as far as the gunner can tell, in exactly the direction of the farm. Desperate attempts to remove this sign via chainsaw and Scruntinel foot have only resulting in what looks like a series of frantic underlinings, adding further emphasis. As the forest fire takes hold, Grumb squirts a few surreptitious jets of promethium, hoping to erase his handiwork - the end result is, uh.  Oops. Stripping down, Grimply cajoles the Chimera scrunts into a nightmarish, pissy jamboree. Any onlooker would be horrified to see Grimply remove his clothing, peeling off filthy cloth to stand resplendent in his shiny black stealth suit underneath, camo cloak billowing behind him in the wind.  Scrunt after scrunt ascends the roof of the Chimera to dampen Grimply's rags under his watchful eye - astoundingly, it actually seems to be working, and the emissions of the Chimera die down markedly. Limoscrunts swiftly get the idea, stripping a robe off a complaining technoscrunt and jamming it into the exhaust, and Kreb handles the exhaust from the Scruntinel via the simple expedient of sucking down the exhaust fumes himself. As a bonus, Grimply notices the tank commander on the leading Leman Russ spot what's going on through magnoculars - leering, and unbuckling his cloak to add to the fetid pile crowding the exhaust pipes, he waves and points at the horrified man. The crewman staggers back against the turret hatch, clutching first at his chest and then for his service pistol. The crack of a gunshot wafts through the forest a few seconds later as the man's corpse slides back into the turret, dead by his own hand. One down, thinks the sniper. Kreb continues to aim. There's not much he can do against a tank, and the tanks aren't even close to being in range given that this has been explicitly pointed out to be a narrative vehicle chase necessitating skill rolls rather than an actual combat necessitating tactical actions, but aiming is what he knows. Thankfully, it actually pays off - alone of all the scrunts, he notices a herd of animals grazing in the forest in the path of the tanks. Large, lumbering, faintly-rabbit-like beasts that don't appear to have been spooked by the convoy, he figures he might still be able to persuade them into blundering onto the road, getting in the way and tangling a few treads. He can either aim a shot at them directly, which is probably easy to connect with but is unlikely to spook the entire herd, or he can take a more difficult shot at what appears to be a colossal wasps nest and hopefully spook the lot of them. There's also a worryingly feculent-looking pustule growing on the side of a nearby tree, if he fancies the mystery third option - medium difficulty to hit, but uncertain results. He'll have to be quick, though - the convoy's passing out of range. He doesn't really think in these terms - it's more a case of BEASTS! SHOOT! HSSSSS! - but as long as it gets results... Murdelia takes advantage of Grumb's great big flaming arrow with some art of her own - by using the gunner's massive fuckup to draw attention to her own attempts at deception, she actually enhances her success. Several minutes later, when the tanks pass by, the crew will indeed be misled by this crude artefact of scrunty culture, and will argue for some time as to whether it's a trap, whether it's heresy, or whether it's a heretical trap. They will of course not trust it in the slightest, but by wasting valuable pursuit time the tank crew will greatly lessen their chances of tracking down the convoy of stolen vehicles. Some time down the road, Gumbo gets lucky; Yurik finally stops trying to give directions. The sergeant has a chance to try and remember which way they should be going, and soon enough he realises they're coming to another crossroads. A knackered, battered, pothole ridden track heading off into the middle of nowhere crosses a well-maintained highway that would probably get them to within a couple of miles of the farm. The crossroads stands shortly before a bridge over a narrow gully path leading into a tunnel.  pictured - the bridge Exasperated, the sergeant flips a coin, and settles on the track. His decision has hidden benefits - the road's so hosed up that not even a scrunt convoy could make their mark on it, although the constant bone-shuddering jarring as pothole after pothole means the scrunts on piss duty have a horrible time of it. The fuel in the tanker sloshes back and forth as the truck teeters precariously down the road, curving down a hillside until it doubles back through the unlit tunnel under the highway. Still, Mung isn't convinced. It's not enough that the convoy should succeed in evasion - the tanks must fail to find them! At the crossroads, he whacks the driver of the limo over the back of the head with a wrench, and seizes the wheel himself! Gibbering to himself, he floors the accelerator and pounds the brake simultaneously, wrenching the steering wheel to and fro to try and create as many skidmarks as possible. It's wasted effort in some respects - the previous driver would probably have done the same - but it does the job, and soon there's a healthy set of tracks leading halfway across the bridge. Mung tosses out a few bits of scrunty paraphenalia, and a couple of scrunts, before doubling back and high-tailing it down the hillside track in pursuit of the convoy. Andrluk sees this on his descent. In particular, he sees the words SLAM SECTOR daubed in paint on the roof of the limo! He can't actually read, but something about the shape of the letters sings to him. He also sees the big menacing metal boxes lumbering over the previous hill, apparently in pursuit of the limo. This also sort of sings to him, but it's really more of a discordant yell. He's not too happy about them, and pretends to consider his next move while scratching idly at his clumps of bodily hair. He's managed to retain control of the parachute complex, and has a couple of options. He could try and land by the convoy, because it looks like a load of scrunts seem to be running it and they've set up a good old fashioned piss rota. He could try and land by the tanks, probably dying quite quickly quite far away from the rest of the scrunts, but definitely delaying the enemy for a while. Or he could try and land on the bridge, leave his orbital drop-barrel as a distraction, maybe kill a couple of scrunts for kicks, then jump off the bridge and join the convoy. It's quite a tall bridge, but he does have a parachute. Sort of. ----- scrunt look what you've done ok so i'm not doing an update for everyone individually as most of this is taken in aggregate, but: Grimply now gets +10 using the camo cloak against creatures tracking him by scent, rather than +0, because they will have no desire to go anywhere near him. he has also killed a man through sheer perversion. Kreb can choose between an easy shot for little gain, a hard shot for high gain, or a medium shot for uncertain gain. there is no "lose" state here, you're blasting a bolt of plasma that'll recharge by the next time you need to use it and if you miss, welp, who cares Gumbo passes a tactics check to make his navigate easier, then gets a ludicrous number of successes with a roll of 17 + bonuses. hurrah. Mung acquits himself well on his first skill challenge, with a roll of 18 + bonuses. go mung. Andrluk (god drat i cannot spell that name) has options. He is not bound by these options and can choose to do more stuff instead! If he has a plan for getting away from tanks once he lands on them now is the time to share!! currently you guys are narrowly ahead on points. the tanks will have to get very lucky to find you, but you'll probably have to lay low at the farm for a bit unless you fancy being woken up by men with guns drawn to all the general scrunting going on. this means no explosions, and probably no large scrunt gatherings. you can pull ahead and remove this necessity if you have any more plans you wish to implement, but really i'm just wanting a decision from Kreb and Andrluk so we can move this forward. the tunnel is p much a narrative convenience; we can make this the next Thing (i.e. you get into escapades in there), or you can just hang out in the dark for a bit before going back to the farm for the next update, it's up to you. i am, however, envisaging a return to the farm first. e: also the forest fire is still ongoing, it's just, y'know, i can't describe what it's done to the tanks until the pursuit's over Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:30 on May 20, 2015 |
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May 20, 2015 21:22
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Mungly Mung - Not convinced that his ruse is going to be much of a distraction, Mungly breaks his next plan into action. Mungly shouts to the techscrunts in the back "Oi ya daft fukkers grab my talky box and bring it up here." A few sharp words and thrown tech-rats later a grubby scrunt without any clothing drops the talky box in the passenger seat. The limo swerves wide as Mungly's attention switches over to the device, the naked scrunt screams and claws at the wheel to keep it on the road. After a few moments Mungly has dialed in what he thinks is the right frequencies and throws the talk-stick into the back. "Allright ya fakkers, sing 'em the song of our people. " Rolling tech use +10 to use my signal jammer. My thought being that if their comms get scrunted they may pull back either because they think we're leading them into an ambush, or just because OH GOD MAKE THE SINGING STOP.
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May 20, 2015 22:11
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Andrluk - Death Fart Above He doesn't understand the compulsion, but he does understand that when his body give him a weird tingly feeling he should immediately do whatever makes that feeling happen more. Seeing the limo with SLAM SECTOR written on top, the airborne scrunt immediately knows that will provide maximum tingleness. The other boxes seem less tingly, and therefore should be destroyed. Aiming carefully, Andrluk kicks the barrel towards the tanks and then aims for the roof of the limo. Going with plan DeathSandwich and landing on the limo.
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May 21, 2015 18:05
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Groin Sklunger Tunnel Groin is both immediately happy and at home in small dank environments, but also at ill at ease before he knows what's inside of them. Groin leaves the Scruntmera and explores the tunnel for interesting things and nasty surprises. _________ Groin is exploring the tunnel. Perception Test: 1d100 16. Also GM reminder that I have Paranoia, also in the game too.
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May 21, 2015 18:13
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Grumb Slanger, the tunnel Grumb dutifully escorts the truck and chimera down into the tunnel, piloting his new toy in between the command vehicles. Now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, he becomes aware of the intense aches and stinging cuts covering his body. He cracks his knuckles, wincing, and slows the walkybox to a prudent canter. He flips the switch that he now recognizes as the headlights, and calls out to his crew. "Erryone keep quiet!" He stage-whispers, idly scratching the briars and dirt out of his face and arms. Grumb hasn't got any more fight left in him, and all he wants now is a big bowl of mulligan stew and some intensive medical attention. He coughs up a tooth, and swallows it again in surprise. -------------- Grumb has 3 wounds remaining and is not at all interested in engaging the tanks. He would like to slip away and go back to the farm for some stitches. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 20:42 on May 21, 2015 |
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May 21, 2015 20:39
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Pursuit In Transit Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfLAIloZ7WY "Get that loving tread fixed on right you clumsy shithead!" It's not been a particularly good day for "Fist", the remaining tank commander. Partly because he's stuck with the same gaggle of hayseeds that can't get their tongues round "Aeolius Meridius Fistinarius". Partly because it's raining, and there's holes in his much-patched boots. Partly because his ears are still ringing after those idiots back at the battery shelled the ridge. But mostly because of the absolute clusterfuck that has been made of his escort detail and subsequent pursuit. If HQ hadn't been so desperate to get this convoy moving, if they'd allowed another couple of hours to meet up in somewhere that wasn't a perfect loving ambush site, then maybe this wouldn't be happening. But no, don't listen to your loving captains. Why would you want tactical input? First of all there was the loving firestorm bombardment, and subsequent cacophony, that basically wiped out any chance of seeing what the hell happened at the rendezvous point. Admittedly, "cleanse" is kind of standard protocol for this sort of transportation if things go south, but still, it's a bit of an annoyance - all Fist has to work with now is a load of charred corpses, a bunch of wreckage, and what looks like the corpse of a tiny hosed up midget head thing with horrifically muscular limbs. Must have come down from the deeper forest, but gently caress if he knows what it's doing here. There was some radio chatter about "horrible little monsters", which matches a bunch of reports that've been coming in recently since that Imperial freighter broke up overhead last week, but this is the first time any of the little shits have shown any actual coordination. It's worrying. More worrying is the final transmission about "WALKING METAL", which indicates there's been a containment breach from the northern site's perimeter. Fist knows the Russes are slower than his quarry, but he can still follow tracks. It was made easier by just following the exhaust billowing from the hosed-up engines he's chasing, but unfortunately the little shits have cottoned onto that and put some sort of filtration system in place. Apparently it's messed up enough that his loving lieutenant couldn't cope, and now he's got a tank without a commander in his tiny, hosed-up squadron. Plus apparently they went off-road for a while, which he didn't realise thanks to the raging loving forest fire they've just driven through. His crews are all messed up from smoke inhalation 'cause they ain't wearing their loving gas masks, and he's had to rotate drivers and stop at a stream to get them sorted. More time wasted. Then there was that loving noticeboard that everyone had to do the sign of the Aquila to when they passed by. We're not even part of the loving Imperium any more! What's the eagle going to do to help if this is a Ruinous Powers thing? Still, by some absolute fluke he's picked up the trail again, and it's heading right over the I-828 bridge. gently caress it, thinks Fist. I'm tired of this. Either we follow the trail to wherever they've holed up, or we follow the highway up to the staging area near the northern perimeter and say we're here to help them with their outbreak. Some other fuckers can take up patrolling this bit, and they can take that prisoner we picked up earlier. Once his jaw heals enough to make him speak, I guess. The tanks rumble onwards, over the bridge, and away from the scrunts. Barrius lies, shackled, comatose, in the empty sponson of the lead tank. ------------------ Quantum Tunnelling In Transit Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MQ66mCaxT8 Groin pokes around in the tunnel once the tanks have rumbled overhead, shotgun clutched tightly between arm and armleg. It's, well, it's a tunnel.  It's actually more of a service tunnel than a road tunnel, but all the vehicles can just about squeeze in. Groin roams about, achingly aware of how exposed he is and how tired he is, beady eyes peering into the darkness. He's already on-edge; out of nowhere, a huge, burly scrunt carrying a massive loving chainsaw parachuted out of the sky through the sunroof of the limo on the way down to this tunnel! He seems friendly enough once he'd peeled the scrunt he landed on off the floor, but the operator is nevertheless hopped-up on adrenaline and fully cognisant of the fact that an attack could come from any angle. There's a bulkhead door set in the wall of the tunnel; it's electronically locked, but a bit of a kicking, some lascutting, and some judicious multi-key usage makes it give up the ghost. The door creaks open, slowly, into what feels like a pitch-black cavern - using the auspex scanner built into his legarm, which Groin had previously forgotten about despite carving DN OT FERGET ABOT into the casing, he can determine that it appears to be... well, another tunnel. But not a manmade one; more like a weird-rear end rock formation. It seems to curve towards the current tunnel, and then curve away again into the darkness, and... huh, it appears to be made of the same rock that made up the ridges back at the rendezvous point. Groin's firing the shotgun before he even realises what's going on. Pellets strike home as a furred blur lunges for him; the scrunt is knocked off his feet as the corpse of a scabrous, wolf-sized rabbitty creature slams into him. Cursing and gibbering, he heaves the body off him. It looks like it was feeding on something else at the southern end of the tunnel before it charged him - on closer inspection, Groin nearly loses his lunch. Even a scrunt wouldn't eat this, and that's saying something - it seems relatively fresh, all things considered, but it's covered in pustules, bloated with fat, and absolutely reeks. Again, Groin is struck by the vileness of it - not the good, wholesome vileness that is the heart of all things scrunty, but a sheer and unadulterated wrongness. Groin's seen enough. He retreats to the Chimera, occasionally shooting into the darkness. if you want to get limo scrunts to carry the messed-up corpse in the limo for later faffing around with, you'll need to make 'em. Or you guys can do it, but you'll need to do rolls to avoid vomiting etc. if you want to investigate the other tunnel right now it'll have to be a majority vote, I'm not splitting the scrunt party. If this does happen we will retcon out the below bit. ------------- Homecoming The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWFb6rnmwls You know when you see a dog that you've not seen for several hours, and it gets all excited and thrilled and amazed that you're now back in its life when it thought it'd never see you again? Basically, imagine that the dog had shredded most of the furniture, poo poo all over the living room, and has invited a bunch more dogs in to fight and gently caress all over your house. That's basically the reaction to the scrunt warband coming home. Oblivious of the need to keep a low profile, the scrunts left at the farm are a-hootin' and a-hollerin' with the best of them; they're hanging out all over the place in plain view, they've trashed the remaining furniture in the intact buildings, and they've started strewing garbage and rubble about the place as they set up little shanty towns around the more permanent farm buildings. Chants of SLAM SECTOR greet the returning warrior scrunts, and kegs of vintage scrunt moonshine are broken out in celebration - they've been aging for days! It might be worth getting the scrunts to shut the hell up eventually, though - also, there's enough spare autoguns, and the party scrunts have done enough good work for the group, that maybe some lookouts can be scrounged together until the immediate threat of Severan patrols dies down. Some of the limos are missing, too - looks like some of the scrunts have gone out for a joyride. The party scrunts are assured that "dey 'adda coupla radios widdem", so presumably they can be summoned back - failing that, the tracks are pretty obvious, streaking off over the fields. Unfortunately, the obvious tracks can be followed both ways - they lead back through the fields, past the equipment sheds, and straight back to the farm. There's also the small matter that the stolen fuel truck won't actually fit in the garage. If it needs to be hidden, the tanker can probably be stuck in one of the sheds - in fact, that'd also reduce the chances of an idiot scrunt in the workshop setting it aflame. The truck will fit in another one easily enough, but this involves more scruntwrangling, as well as displacing a couple of sky-fearing families who have set up shop inside. Apart from that, there's time for rest, recuperation, and relaxation. There's tinkering to be done, wounds to stitch, things to dissect (there's still some corpses of the day-shift workers left!), maybe even organisation to be done! Until everyone gets bored and goes looking for more loot, of course. ------------- scrunnnt The scrunts have dodged the tanks, barely. Only needed a couple more successes to make it comprehensive, but, y'know, missed opportunities and all that. The Severans are starting to know about scrunts. Nothing you have done so far has accelerated this, believe it or not - by luck or design you have quite successfully hidden your scrunty forms from people who can report it back to base, and there's only been the odd "aagh small things" yell shortly before a violent radio death. Groin has found two plot hooks and has now done two perception checks in a row without using his Auspex. You can go exploring the other tunnel, or you can find out what's up with the hosed-up corpse and where it came from. The tank commander has OOC'd you a third - there's a security cordon around a big metal-themed area to the north - but you don't need an in-character rationale if you fancy pursuing that. You've also got all your other plot hooks to play with. Now is the time to fiddle with the =I= box, read through papers, get your wounds seen to, dissect poo poo, upgrade/fiddle with/make equipment, make drugs, scout around some more for enemy patrols, check what it is you've actually stolen, etc. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 16:30 on May 24, 2015 |
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May 24, 2015 16:23
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Grumb Slanger, the garage Grumb carefully tiptoes the sentinel into a vacant corner of the garage, avoiding any further damage to the paneling. He backs in slowly, turns off the engine and headlights and pockets the keys. "Dangol, home at last, Kreb," he says, looking back, only to find that Pernicious Kreb had already scampered down the back at some point. Grumb shakes his head skeptically, awkwardly descending from the cabin. Somebody should prob'bly check out 'is noodle, he thinks. On the way out the garage, Grumb spots Mungly Mung parking the limousine. "HAY SCUR'LUS!" he shouts, gesturing at the sentinel in the corner. "See 'fyou can boost up the walkybox seat while I'm gone! I canna see poo poo up thurr." As he walks away he idly wonders if there might be a way to put more guns on it somehow, or some kind of sidecar. But a sudden sharp pain in Grumb's lung reminds him that there are more pressing matters to attend to. Seeking out Murdelia Scurvy, he makes his way to the impromptu medical compound where she'd been spending her time. He finds her outside the operating room, covered in blood and dirt, smoking a blunt roach. "'Ay Grumb, ya made it back in one piece!" she says, passing him the roach. "Nice shootin' out there," she says. "Yes it were," he grumbles, taking a puff most chuffed. "I noticed you was on fire before? But uh, looks like tha's, uh... Thas all sorted out now." "Yes it were," she replies. A moment passes before Grumb suddenly inhales a big load of ash, and begins coughing wildly. Out pops his tooth once more, bouncing lazily off of Murdelia's face and leaving a small spatter of blood. She wipes it away. "You, uh... you need any med'cal attention?" She asks him. "Oh, no, no, no no no. I'm fine. Dangol, I'm great over here." He says, turning to leave. "...Although... ...Although maybe jussa few stitches wouldn't hurt." As he walks bashfully into the scrlinic, Grumb asks "By the way... You ain't noticed nothing... funny 'bout Kreb lately, have ya?" ------------------ Grumb is choosing to investigate Kreb, as that is the most visible mystery to him at this point. Past the medical attention phase, he's likely to go check out the tanker with Sgt Gumbo and investigate that. If someone starts making more of a thing out of the =I= box he'd probably pop in to take a look, but as of now it doesn't really have his attention. Shadeoses, I have left Arnika out of this intentionally so it is still up to you whether Arnika brought back Barry to save him or to perform horrible experiments or to hold him hostage or whatever. Right now I just want to get Grumb back up above 'the brink of death' territory before I do any more serious investigation. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 20:10 on May 25, 2015 |
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May 25, 2015 20:03
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Mungly Mung - In the Tunnel Now clear of the danger of the tanks, Mungly turns his attentions back to the tunnels and staring out into the darkness, having long since given up the steering wheel to the nude scrunt who was panicking earlier. Mungly snaps to attention when he hears a shotgun go off over the other sounds in the cab of the limo. He delivers a sharp "Sssshaddup ya nincompoops" before snatching his talky box away from the techscrunt in the back. He taps on his trusty AwwGRR array that he worked into his hosed up mechandrite arm and interfaces into it to techsmell down the corridor that Groin scurried back from before the caravan gets rolling back to life. ----------- At the farm After spending so much time in the trunk of the Limo, Mungly couldn't be happier than to be able to ride back in the comfort and reek of the passenger cab of the limo. While he spent much of his time staring vacantly at the other trucks, it did give him some time to think in between more bouts of vacant staring. When the limo finally lurched to a stop at the farm Mung hopped out and immediately got to work. First course of action was to inspect the tanker. "Gots ta' make sure that the big tank o' fire is intact." he thought as he scrambles up the side of the tanker. First things first though, he kicks his AwwGRR back on to try and techsmell through the tanker walls into the contents to make sure he doesn't have any unfortunate surprises waiting for him. He hears Grumb shout something at him about the walkybox seat and brushes it off, thinking to himself I'll just throw a cinderblock in there later to sit on or somefin. Before he knows it, Mung starts contemplating getting a sample of what's in the tank to test what it is. ---------- Going to take an augur array reading of the tunnel corridor as we drive past. First order of business at the farm is investigating the tanker, doing an augur reading of the contents of that as well. If the Augur results are inconclusive then a tech use(+10) or Forbidden Knowledge(Archaeotech) roll to try to get get a sample and figure out what it is. Assume I'm using foresight on the farm rolls since 20 minutes in narrative time measured in days is kind of chump change. If you all want weapon mods done now is the time to speak up. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 21:26 on May 26, 2015 |
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May 26, 2015 17:30
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Groin Sklunger Farm After making it back to the farm, Groin's first course of action is to sleep off his drug come-down and try to forget about the horrible, yet brief, tunnel incident. He climbs into the Tauros drivers seat in a sleepy haze, and rests while idly licking the chassis and dreaming of modding his sweet new ride. ________ Groin sleepy time in Tauros. Feel free to interact with him.
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May 26, 2015 23:58
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Yurik Scraglagger The Malbrathia-3 Yurik eventually gave up on his attempts to show Gumbo the amazing shortcut that he knew was just beyond that bend why are you driving past it over there no over there, largely due to the Sergeant threatening to keep shaking him until Yurik agreed to help with his plan, which he magnanimously (read, begrudgingly) agreed to. Fortunately with his brilliance to help give shape to Gumbo's plan it wasn't long before they were quickly leaving a trail that would surely confound the humies' feeble attempts to follow them before taking refuge within the comforting, claustrophobic embrace of a nearby tunnel. It wasn't the shortcut he'd had in mind (which would have been much, much faster if only Gumbo had been willing to listen to him, he diplomatically refrained from saying), but at least they were no longer being pursued by tanks. Scrunts were natural tunnel dwellers, at home in environs that other species would consider dank, cramped, unsanitary, decrepit, or otherwise unlivable. A palpable wave of relief (and body odor) washed over the gathered scrunthorde as they traded the unnatural open expanse outside, with its grasses and trees and sunlight for ferrocrete walls, stale air, and puddles of stagnant water. Scrunts that had been panicking only moments ago (of which Yurik was most assuredly not one, he would happily inform you, no matter how much he had been shouting and raving) fell into hushed, furtive whispers as they trekked further into the tunnel. Later on there would be raucous celebration, inebriation, defecation, and the occasional detonation, but for now what passed for discretion among scrunts prevailed. The relative silence was broken explosively by a series of shotgun blasts, feral snarls, and retching. Exchanging glances with Gumbo, who merely shrugged and drummed his fingers on the wheel of the tanker impatiently, Yurik gave an exasperated sigh and hopped out of the cab, adjusting his thinkin' cap for maximum brainosity before scuttling over to investigate the commotion and, if necessary, set it on fire with his mind. Alternately, to identify the most imminent danger and get a head start on running before anyone else. What he saw defied even his learned mind. Not Groin struggling to extricate himself from beneath the corpse of some unpleasant looking furry creature, that was business as usual. No, it was what lay further down the tunnel that the enterprising (and attention deficient) scrunts had unbarred. It was a creature, that much was certain...the corpulent mass was unpleasantly organic, diseased in a way that Yurik had never before witnessed on even the most unhygienic scrunt. Pustulent, bloated, vile...none of the adjectives contained within his mental copy of The Imperial Infantryman's Right and Proper Thesaurus seemed adequate to describe the pervasive sense of wrongness the creature exuded. There was something about that wrongness, though. Something familiar. It was the sort of wrongness that Yurik had started noticing after the incident with the hypno-indoctrination chamber. Certain people, places, and things had that same sort of wrongness about them he'd soon discovered as he experimented with his newfound abilities. Almost all of them turned out to be the sort of bad news that not even a scrunt would want any part of, and the diseased corpse lying before him didn't seem like an exception to that rule. Some people had memory palaces. Yurik had a memory warren, a towering landfill of knowledge heaped haphazardly together, criss-crossed with grimy neural tunnels twisting throughout it. The Loremaster dragged every impression of the putrefying mystery he could into his mind...its appearance, its smell, all down to the tiniest disgusting detail. Then, cautiously, Yurik reached outwards with his sixth through eleventh senses to see what the wrongness itself had to say. Yurik is going to memorize as many details about the creature as he can without having to touch it/without vomiting himself unconscious with his vacuum memory. Then he's going to try and gather a psychic impression of the creature and whatever might be weird with it using the Psyniscience skill against a TN of 36 (based on Perception). Amazingly I get a 35, enough to qualify as the barest success. Whatever I happen to discover is up to schlong. Further farmventures later, this post got really long and I'm kind of tired.
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May 27, 2015 09:11
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Gumbo Bulge Tunnel time "Groin?! Groin where're ya goin lad? Ge back ere we needs to be AYURRGH - WHAT THE gently caress IS THAT THING??" Gumbo prods at the bloated corpse (he thinks it's a corpse, it certainly isn't moving) before him with his chainsword, and recoils as it oozes aggressively in response. He wipes his chainsword on a newly arrived scrunt, one of the limo crew he thinks - he ought to get these combat support scrunts some kind of uniform, maybe have a go at training them in some things. The thought excites him, but he is interrupted. "Whut shud we du wif dis Sarge?" splutters the limo scrunt. "Shud we et et?" "Et et? Doan eat it ya idjut! Yal get sick! Sides, migh be an importan scientify sample. Av you lot got a tarp or summin in tha limo?" Back to the farm Gumbo wakes screaming incoherently from a short nap as the tanker rolls into the farm. Yurik glances nervously at him from the driving seat. "Nice drivin Yurk" he says, hoping the old scrunt didn't overhear anything incriminating. As he hops down from the cab stabbing pains shoot up his legs and he suddenly remembers that he got shot a lot during the ambush. Once in the face even. He ought to get that seen to, but first he has some business to attend to. "Pirk! We needs ta organise a defens- sum patrols an tha like. Those humans are still ou there, an they probably right pissed wiv us. Roun me up sum likely lookin lads - an see if theres anythin that migh make a gud uniform for em. Don av to be fancy like, jus needs ta all look tha same. He salutes, for good measure. As Pirk scurries away Gumbo struggles to remember the events of the last few hours, then calls after him. "An if them limo lot brot that thin back wiv em an dint eat it, hav em bring it over to the doc so she can giv it a look" He leaves the tanker and goes looking for Murdelia, and is pleased to find Grumb with her already. He hops up onto a table and removes his boots. "Alrigh' doc. Ahv been shot a couple times, ain too bad - ahm still feelin a little woozers from tha in-jec-shun tho. Them drugs needs investigatin, wasn no sense to wha happened wiv em. Made me all metal, like one of em fancy staturs Was summin else too - a buzzin, like..." He trails off, then remembers something else. His memory is all over the place lately. "Asked them limo boys ta brin you tha oozy thin from the tunnel too, Doc. Dunno how tha went, they maybe ate it." He turns to the side. "Ere, Grumb, I think we oughta check ou the truck sum - somethin feels off abou the ambush, too many soljers. An I hear we got a new lad in - shud see if we can fine im, check im over" Ok Gumbo has ordered the limo scrunts to bring the bloated thing with them and deliver it to Murdelia, but is fatigued so not expecting great success there. He has also asked Pirk to find some Scrunts who might be open to forming a militia of sorts to patrol and protect the farm. He then goes to Murdelia to hopefully get patched up and suggests she investigate the drugs, which he doesn't know she has taken as well. Next up will be investigating the tanker and potentially greeting Andrluk with Grumb.
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May 27, 2015 10:05
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Subterrania In Transit Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igg_2lG1LTQ Mung picks up much the same as Groin from his auspex readings - no lifesigns, narrow tunnel, made of ferromagnetic rock, kinda dark. He briefly scans the body in the tunnel - yep, it's dead - before Yurik brings his formidable powers of memorization and analysis to bear on the pustulent thing in front of him. The psyscrunt couples his worrying breadth of knowledge with the unique depth the powers of his expanded mind affords him. Scrunts are nothing if perversely unpredictable, and so ultimately it shouldn't be that surprising that Yurik chooses to indelibly sear the image of this horrible, diseased, seriously-mentally-scarring corpse into his memories. Still, viewing the body with his third eye, Yurik determines there is indeed a faint otherworldly taint of corruption on this body. It's still quite jarring to have the idea of filth and disease be a negative thing - to a human it would be like a bubble bath suddenly taking on the semiotics of a gas chamber - but Yurik is certain that he will know this lurid, sickly, vegetative energy signature should he encounter it again. Against his better judgement, he tentatively probes for any direct touch of the Ruinous powers - there's certainly something Warp-related in the corpse, but whatever's going on, it's not caused by any entities Yurik can put a name to. Further examination will need to wait, as a herd of vomiting scrunts have shown up to investigate. Gumbo is bad-temperedly slapping at them with the flat of his chainsword to drive them closer. Several of the scrunts are stupid enough to consider the corpse a meal, but the majority of them want nothing to do with it. Once they get close enough to take in the smell, they stampede - Gumbo is unable to drive them back, and picks himself up off the ground some minutes later. The corpse remains sprawled in the tunnel. ----------- Homeward Bound The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqAYMZSOQao The scrunts disperse, some aimlessly, some with purpose. Groin catches up on some much-needed sleep; Gumbo finishes off the catnap he had snatched in the truck's cabin. Murdelia also rests her eyes for a while. Mung brings out the auspex again to give his new truck a once-over. Might have been worth doing this before driving it back to Scrunt HQ, on the assumption that a convoy important enough to warrant four escorts and an artillery barrage might have some sort of tracking device in place, but the technomat doesn't find anything of the sort. He cracks the top hatch on the tanker and has a taste of the contents - definitely promethium. Reasonably high-octane fuel grade promethium. Of greater interest is the fact that the tanker seems to contain its own separate internal tank, though, which seems to take up about a third of the internal space - how it's accessed is anyone's guess. The scrunts could drain off the fuel somewhere and lascut open the empty tanker, if they get impatient - however, presumably there's some way to fill this thing, so maybe there's some way to open up the external tank? Gumbo goes on the hunt for recruits. He's still a bit woozy from sleep, and isn't at his most persuasive, but given that he's returned to the farm bearing gifts, he scrapes together a small number of scrunts interested in helping out. Realistically, they're interested in getting their hands on some firepower, and gawping at things from high up on the walls, but still. The group of recruits hang around aimlessly outside the workshop, scratching themselves and listening to the clatter and bang of technoscrunts within. Nigel, a particularly odorsome scrunt with a lazy eye, gurns vaguely in Gumbo's direction. "Wotchawannus ta do, boss?" -------- scrunnnt Yurik takes 2 insanity points for willingly memorizing in great detail the features of a horrible, borderline-Fear-causing corpse. He probes the corpse; he'll recognise the same psychic signature if he spots it again, and he's reasonably sure the corpse isn't going to jump up and start reenacting Thriller with a Plaguebearer as lead dancer. In other words, it is vaguely warp-related but not specifically Nurgley. There is more at work here; but on the plus side, it counts as a "mundane horror" for Jaded and there's none of the corruption that would come with mentally feeling up a daemon. Now that he's taken in the situation, Yurik also considers it strange that the weird rabbity creature that Groin killed was happily eating the corpse. Gumbo managed a magnificent 96 on his command roll, so the scrunts are having none of it. Further attempts by players to coerce the scrunts using Command or Intimidate with result in a drop in scrunt social standing; Charm or Deceive could still work malus-free. Or you lazy fuckers could just carry it. Scrunts with fatigue don't have fatigue anymore because I assume you want to rest. Mung finds nothing special in the tunnels, and, thanks to his auspex, a big secret smuggling compartment in the truck. He doesn't know how to open it. Perceptive or Aware scrunts could help, as could greater numbers of less skilled scrunts, but he's failed the test he took on his own - auspex scanners won't help with this because presumably you're looking for a hidden hatch or a button or something and they're too wide-grain. Gumbo, on returning to the farm, has twelve scrunts willing to hang around and be militia. They are, currently, useless, and probably more of a hindrance than anything. They will need training in various militia-type activities, which will take a while and will require some input from the party. By training them, you will impart various skills to them, upgrade their stats from "appalling" to "really bad", and will basically whip them into shape into a crowd you can actually safely do Command tests at. For example, you could take them down the firing range, or you could lead them on a patrol round the inside of the camp, or set them to close-order drilling. Or do scruntier versions of the above. Do you give 'em guns yet? Waiting on Murdelia to declare open season on first aid before anyone's wounds are seen to.
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May 27, 2015 20:14
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Mungly Mung - Gasmaster prime Click for music Mungly was ecstatic. his AwwGrr showed him something that he was not aware of. Turns out he has a tanker full of liquid fire and a compartment filled with something else (he hopes more liquid fire). He drinks several additional handfuls of promethium in celebration before sealing the tanker back up and scrambling back down the side and setting to figure out how to access said auxiliary tanker. It didn't occur to him that he doesn't actually know how to open it until after he climbed down and started hitting the auxiliary tank with a wrench. If'n ist jus a big can with goodies inside it, he thought I can just open it like my favorite cans of food. He thinks nostalgically back to his time before landing on this planet and getting canned meat from his parents branded Unfit for human consumption because a'course it was ment fer scrunts, not 'umans, stupid. Mungly snaps back from his daydreams and figures he's going to need someone what's good lookin at stuff to figure this out. He drops his wrench, which lands with a dull thud and a sharp squeak on top of one of Mungly's rat servitors, and looks around for a scrunt with a more in-depth knowledge of staring at things than himself. He feels himself getting all giddy until he sees Gumbo out in the yard slapping one unfortunate scrunt out of a small huddle huddle of his comrades and thinks to himself gently caress dat guy, he'll know about it last. He spits and flips him the bird before scanning the crowd again. Regaining his vigor, he spots Gimply disembarking from the vehicles and runs over to him to grab him, completely oblivious to the fact that he grabbed the unfortunate scrunt by the throat. "HAY GIMPLY I GOT A THING I NEED YAS TO STARE AT CUS YER GOOD AT LOOKIN AT THINGS FAR AWAY HOW ABOUT LOOKIN AT A THING WHAT IS CLOSE AND HELPIN ME FIND THE WHATSIT TO OPEN UP A HOLE IN THE TANK 'A LIQUID FIRE WHAT MAYBE HAS SUM UNFIT FER CONSUMPTION MEAT IN IT!" After getting his message across, Mungly lets go of the tiny scrunt that he was choking and runs back to the tanker. --------------- Calling a lookscrunt to help me get the smuggling compartment open. I'm unable to do any more perception checks to find it, but I may still be able to do assistance rolls of tech use or something to find the switch.
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May 27, 2015 22:12
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