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Release The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV0bpEotFOg What is a scrunt to do? All this destructive power in one easily-managed gun, and no-one has the common decency to stand in front of it! Murdelia hisses and grabs hold of the pintle autogun handles with bad grace, hauling herself up into the cupola, swinging them round and pinching off jagged bursts of fire at the retreating Squad Four. Before she can zero in on them, Scurrilous's horrible scrunty lube oozes out of the gun and all over her hands; jerking back in shock, the scrunt watches as both magazines flop out of the gun, bounce off the turret, and clatter into the night. An urgent message finally pushes through the fog of Hardchest's consciousness, indicating that if he takes many more whacks to the head he probably won't be stamping away from this fight. Roaring defiance and swaying worryingly from side to side, he claws at his back with both hands in an attempt to dislodge Gumbo. Snapping steel pincers miss the scrunt's limbs by inches, but lashing metal tendrils sprouting from the arms wrap themselves round him. With a muffled "feck" the scrunt is hauled in front of Hardchest, dangled upside down by his ankles as the metallic fury attempts to bring him into view, turning the ruin of his head first one way and then the other in an attempt to get him in sight of both eyes at once. The scruntgeant's ears are pinned back by the booming of his voxcaster ++NOT THE RIGHT LITTLE ONE++ Hardchest snaps his claw to the left, hurling Gumbo towards Yurik, Pirk scampering desperately behind. The air whistles in his ears and nose for brief seconds before he crashes into the psyscrunt in a crunching tangle of limbs; Yurik's arm hangs limply a Hardchest snaps his claw to the left, hurling Gumbo towards Yurik, Pirk scampering desperately behind. The air whistles in his ears and nose for brief seconds before he crashes into the bricks, rebar and rubble near the psyscrunt. Serious pain ensues. Gumbo's nose is at rather a worrying angle, and he's pretty sure he's cracked a rib or six, but he'll survive. The Dreadnaught turns his attention back towards the farm building, staring balefully up into the gloom of the roof as his metallic pseudoflesh stitches itself back together. Mung's immediate concern is the fact that his workshop has trespassers. Screeching, he slams the gearstick back and stamps on the gas; the Chimera screeches in turn as it plows in reverse through benches, plans, scrap, and scrunts. The rifle-toting member of Drop Team One can't accurately judge the tank's progress through the shed, and takes the full force of the impact. He sails out of the warehouse door, splashing to a crumpled pile in front of the scrunt militia. Eyes wide with fury, the remaining member of Team One lunges for the Chimera as it hurtles past, slamming onto the siding, clinging on like a leech. He fumbles a shaped charge from his belt and slaps it onto the hull, choosing a spot where the anti-grenade mesh is thinnest. A thin lance of metal jets through the armour like butter, but causes minimal damage to the sturdy frame of the APC. Squad Four pause, panting in the alley. Their vehicular aggressor has retreated, and they briefly ponder their next move. Their sergeant spots Grumb through the windows of the farmhouse; he may be carrying a big gun, and that Dreadnaught may be really loving freaky and maybe not really worth saving, but they've got the drop on him and it'd be a shame to let this opportunity go to waste. The squad yell and curse as they pump fire from the alley, but unfortunately they're a bit loving useless and only really succeed in shredding the ornamental facade. A couple of lasbolts strike Grumb's limbs, causing cosmetic scorching, but illuminating the gunner long enough for the sergeant to line up a shot. His pistol roars, and he is gratified to see the weird-looking abhuman's leg give way with a howl of pain. The Searchlights rotate wildly, before pointing directly up at Grimply. He's illuminated! Drekk urgently commando-crawls away from the farmhouse, keeping his head down to avoid stray bullets. He's still surrounded by the Severans, who don't appear to have noticed him yet. Yurik peers from his ruined windowframe, casting a sidelong glance at the crumpled form of Gumbo by his feet. He squeezes off a few rounds at the milling mass of humans in front of him, but he's kinda leaking a fair bit, and the lightheadedness throws off his aim. Another of the humans drops, though. Grumb is seriously wounded, but the scrunt still burns. He's barely standing, but some sort of weird, scrunty defiance makes him fight down his natural instinct to run and hide and stink, and instead to bring down the metal monstrosity currently trying to demolish the building in which he is currently standing. Clive barks a staccato report; Grumb is already collapsing into cover as the shells fly, but their aim is true. Some part of Hardchest's soldiering personality must have recognised the noise of the shells chambering, and he twists precariously to avoid the first couple of rounds. The third catches a weak point in his engine casing; the microreactor breaches almost instantly, and with a thunderous KRAKOOM the Dreadnaught sinks to its knees as a radioactive sheen of glittering metal shards spills out over the tarmac, motive systems ruined far beyond the capacity of regeneration to fix. There's still a scrap of life left in the walker, and the heavy stubber banks still rove desperately for a target, but this walker won't be walking anywhere anytime soon. Gumbo blinks woozily; his whole life briefly flashed before his eyes there, and a worrying amount of it was phallic. Noticing that he's got no chance to attack Hardchest now, he considered the fact that he's right next to a great big milling group of humans. Still lying in the rubble, he groggily unlimbers his autogun and hoses it vaguely towards the crowd, screwing up his eyes as the kick and thud send jolts of pain through his fresh wounds. At this range he can hardly miss, eyes or no eyes, and three more of the humans hit the ground. A ragged cheer erupts from nearby scrunts at this effortless display of martial prowess. Groin is a scrunt on the edge; pawed at and prodded by this great lumbering PDF trooper for well over eighteen seconds, he's had enough. He steps back, dodging a clumsy swing, and raises his shotgun. The trooper thuds to the ground, practically bisected by the blast. His arm continues to jerk off the shotgun, chambering and rechambering rounds; Jekk dutifully collects them and stows them in an ammo pouch for later use. Grimply is a scrunt on a slightly more literal edge. He hears Flet bounce safely into a dumpster full of general scrunty trash, and trusts the scruntlet has enough self preservation to get away from the giant metal killing machine as quickly as possible. Staring down past the glaring searchlights into the ruin of Hardchest's face, he feels utterly alone; it's like being back on his home planet, only a bit darker, and with slightly more metal nemeses from beyond the grave coming to try and smash down buildings to kill him. Resolve hardens in the scrunt, and snarling, eyes locked on Hardchest's, Grimply slams a penetrator round directly into his adversary's namesake. The shell blasts through the outer layers, through the biomechanical substrate, through the technological mockery of the sargeant's former self, and down into the second, larger, reactor. The Dreadnaught erupts into a pillar of flame, a blistering shell of energy ravaging anything within a few metres before the gutted husk of Hardchest finally topples backwards. There is no sign of any regenerative process at work; presumably whatever was causing it has been scoured clean by the blast, much like Grimply's eyebrows. Sound returns. Squad Five appear frozen by the explosion; they'd very much like to run, but one of their number has just tripped over a scrunt. Bedlam ensues, in which blows are rained on Drekk but none of them are coordinated enough to do any damage. The Scrunt Militia hear a call to arms, but given their tendency to get distracted they're more interested in goggling at the big explosion. Eventually several of their number realise there's a human clinging onto the Chimera, and correspondingly pour fire into him. The remaining Drop Trooper grits his teeth as bullets slam into him, but he doesn't slacken his grip. The Scruntmob careens its way back towards the fight, presumably attracted by the explosion, or by the corpses. Snipers mostly twiddle their thumbs; one of them draws a bead on Groin, but he happens to bend down to tinker with his arm at exactly the right moment and avoids the shot. Still, he should probably get out of the light now. The loss of the Dreadnaught appears to have shaken the Severans, and they may well be thinking of retreat. It's unlikely the sniper assault will continue with no ground forces present; it just comes down to whether or not the scrunts want to let these humans go and lick their wounds with their moderately radioactive tongues, or whether they want to get rid of all possible witnesses to their horrible, horrible ways.  lightmap!!  darkmap!! ---- scrunt Murdelia doesn't tell me what she wants to do, so I make the most optimal choice and assume it's a semi-auto burst at squad four with the mounted autoguns, rather than an aimless grab-multilaser, do-nothing action. Naturally she rolls a 94 for her attack, jamming the weapon. GO TEAM. Hardchest grapples Gumbo successfully; grappling is actually really fuckin' convoluted so I will attempt to spell out what happens here. > Standard attack; Hardchest forgoes doing damage in order to grapple; by succeeding, he is in control of the grapple and cannot now use Reactions while he grapples. > Grapples are full actions that are presaged by a half-action attack and tend to allow you a half-action's worth of stuff. Obviously. So Hardchest now apparently has to sort of retroactively declare "hey my full turn is a grapple". > Which means he uses the other half action on controlling the grapple. Because he does not want to die, he uses this to end the grapple, by hurling Gumbo some distance away. He got like 4DoS on the strength check, which technically means he could throw Gumbo like close to 35 metres, but it's not really in character for him to absolutely paste Gumbo against a wall so, y'know. Nine metres is plenty. Hardchest can use Reactions again. > He rolls a 2 for damage but thanks to DoS and strength bonus, Gumbo still takes 14 damage to the body. With soak, that's 8 wounds to Gumbo > Yurik has not used his reaction; Hardchest can only take one attack per round, and the grapple counts. Mung rammed and killed a man in 1990, neatly parking his Chimera by an angry drop trooper with a pouch of krak grenades. Drop Trooper rolls two fat ladies for his damage and does 4 structural points of damage to the Chimera. Anti-grenade mesh doesn't help; he rolled really well on the attack (Chimera's a big target), and rolled really well on the damage. It's just that krak grenades are actually pretty poo poo if they don't righteous fury. Squad Four shoots the only scrunt they can see. Sorry, Grumb. These guys have veteran sergeants; they can use the Ballistic Drill special ability to reroll missed attack rolls. Unfortunately, they can't use it to reroll really loving bad but still technically a hit attack rolls (go go 75!!), and they only get two degrees of success. The sarge's pistol hits home, though. They don't fire their rocket launchers; they're saving those. Squad does 1 damage and 5 damage, after soak, for a total of 6 damage; Grumb gets benefit of "good body armour has +1ap on first attack of turn" for both hits. The sergeant, unfortunately, gets a decent roll with his hand cannon, and kneecaps Grumb for a further 8 damage. Flubbed the unskilled dodge attempt. Grumb has no wounds left and further damage will result in critical wounds Searchlights illuminate Grimply. Drekk moves, as he must. He is back in command next turn. Yurik kills a dude, bleeds a little. Cosmetically. Grumb smacks the living poo poo out of the Dreadnaught, but the annoying thing about walkers is that they can Jink without having to move. Hardchest gets a degree of success on his Operate check, meaning the first round of the burst misses, and he dodges the second. The third strikes home though, and it's side armour. Hardchest is now on Critical: 8. Literally any damage will likely kill him. Gumbo kinda can't do his planned actions. Best odds at helping out would be to gun down some of Squad Five before they kill Drekk, and also to stay in cover what with the serious wounds and all. Gumbo remains prone and in cover, unlimbers his rifle, and full-autos at point blank range. Three kills! Get Them! goes off without a hitch, he uses ranged volley instead of close quarters. But shout if you want this changed to something else. Groin shoots the poo poo out of his buddy, and is finally free. Grimply pushes Hardchest to The Max. The maximum critical, I mean. No-one nearby is hurt in the explosion; it was quite a small radius. Squad Five score one hit on Drekk that gets soaked. Sigh. Scruntlitia do seven damage on the dude hanging onto the Chimera, over four connecting shots. Mob moves, snipers snipe. Badly. well done guys you killed it!!!
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Sep 3, 2015 23:08
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Yurik Scraglagger The Siege Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 2/12 Yurik casually sidestepped Gumbo as the sergeant sailed through the air to land where he had been standing a moment before with a bone-jarring (and possibly bone-snapping) impact. The metal monstrosity that the Severans had whipped up (and how fascinating it was now that Yurik could see it clearly, something about the way the metal knit itself back together teasing at some scrap of knowledge deep in the dustbins of his mind) looked to be on its last legs and he wasn't sure how well his brain powers would work against something like that anyway, so instead he reached down and dragged Gumbo better into cover, helping the sergeant point his gun in the right direction, before sending another volley of carefully aimed shots into the squad of troopers below. *** Second verse, same as the first. Half-action aim, half-action semi-auto burst + Ranged Volley for a total of TN 47. That is a much more respectable 18
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Sep 4, 2015 03:32
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Drekk The Farm Malbrathia-3 Awakening *** Drekk evaded Yurik's suppressing fire and rebuked the attacks of Squad Five. Now only five men remain, this should be simple. The robotic monstrosity is dead, and exploded in a spectacular fashion. He's far enough not to be affected in an adverse manner, though, but his jacket does slightly flap from the breeze. Witnessing its destruction triggered...something in him. It's unknown if it's just the explosion, or very small traces of RAGECHEMS lingering in his system, or maybe he's having flashbacks to the Arbites killing Bulge Hardmuscle back on Hive Tectus, or maybe it's a combination of all three.. But he feels...awakened. "I AM DREKK DROKK ROCKET AND I HAVE AWAKENED IN THE SLAM SECTOR!" He bellows, lifting his sword in the air. He lets out a a mighty roar as he goes in for the kill. Widget, who oddly feels concerned for his safety (and also possibly invigorated), takes out a machete from his backpack and follows him, letting out a powerful yee. *** I'm likely still in melee range of Squad Five, so I'm gonna go ahead and do an ALL-OUT ATTACK  Gonna use my remaining Fate Point to add +10 to this roll. 46 WS + 30 (All-Out Attack) +10 (Fate Point addition) = 86 Rolled a 51. Widget's going to do a Close-Order Drill If I'm not close enough somehow (but it looks like he's close enough according to the map oh god why am I worrying about this), then a bog-standard half-move to get into position, then a Standard Attack with the appropriate modifiers. Not as fun though! Also I finally saw Fury Road last week, so uh yeah. EDIT: GM, feel free to add a +10 if Close-Order Drill triggers Double Team (despite being outnumbered). Kaiju Cage Match fucked around with this message at 14:39 on Sep 4, 2015 |
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Sep 4, 2015 12:49
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[quote="Skellybones" post="447455403"] Murdelia Skurvy Fecking about Murdelia recoils away from the gratuitous amounts of lubricant that apparently filled much of the gun's internal mechanisms. Not that she's opposed to most scrunty substances, but it is a well-learned habit to identify the gas, liquid or powder before consuming or otherwise interacting with it. A quick sniff and a taste reveals it's largely harmless, so she digs around under the seat for some extra magazines to jam into the oozing mechanism. At least, she assumes that's how it works, she's not really certain on how heavy machine guns or APCs work. _________________________ Murdelia attempts to unjam/reload the pintle gun.
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Sep 6, 2015 09:18
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Mungly Mung More Hot Tankin Mung yees in frustration at the thought of the bewildered Sevran clinging to the side of his baby. How dare they try to steal scrunt tactics for getting into a chimera. Lucky for Mung the human didn't have a lascutter attached to his face to make the plan flawless and has settled for trying to throw minimally effective grenades instead. That just won't do. Like a bad itch on your back (or, depending on the scrunt, a bad itch on your feet, butt, top of the head, or itch of the small intestines) Mung decided it was time to get the militia to help him scratch it: and by "scratch" he meant "with lasers and lead". While filing away the idea of a lead and laser based back scratcher in the back of his mind, Mung makes an attempt to maneuver the vehicle in such a way as to both try and jink the human off of his hull and also deposit him in position to be shot by the militia. -- Drive check to try and both jink the grabasser off and also maneuver over to where the militia has a clean point blank shot on him. +10 for MIU, +5 bonus from armor. Addendum question: If dipshit tries to krak me again next round, won't he be at -40 for the attack? He is technically on a vehicle that moved it's full speed last round and is also attacking a vehicle that moved it's full speed last round. Never mind that both are the same vehicle. Edit: Also, the Chimera doesn't have anti grenade mesh, the tauros does. Edit 2: Statblock edition code:DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 04:27 on Sep 10, 2015 |
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Sep 9, 2015 06:29
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Groin Sklunger The Farm Groin scrunts scruntily. _______ Groin and Jekk move toward the containment vehicle and get inside the front seats if they are close enough.
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Sep 9, 2015 15:26
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Grumb Slanger, cowering by the window Grumb grimaces in pain, clutching his mangled leg as the exploding dreadnought showers the dormitories in searing flecks of metal. He looks upwards with a scowl, just barely able to make out the weedy little silhouette of a hooded scrunt through a hole in the roof. The faint sound of Grimply's victorious yeeing adds insult to injury. Sumbitch, Grumb thinks, I soffend 'em up for yeh anyhow. He turns his attention to the alley where just moments ago a fusillade of lasfire had caught him off-guard. The alley is awfully dark, but there is very little one can do to hide from an autocannon in such cramped quarters anyway. Grumb grits his teeth as he draws a bead on the clump of shadowy figures, and then lets loose. Barry, excited to finally be helping, joins him in the attack. ------------------------------------------------------------ Grumb remains in cover behind the window, peeking out to fire upon Squad Four. Standard Action - Aim Standard Action - Semi Auto Burst Clive the Autocannon - Heavy 300m S/3/– 3d10+8 I Pen 6 Clip 20, 2full reload, reliable 45 BS + 10 Aim + 5 Ranged Volley Order + 10 Short Range - 20 Darkness (target 50). I roll a 94. Spending one fate point to re-roll nets me a 41 for the hit! 3d10+8 damage: 1+1+6+8 = 16
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Sep 9, 2015 23:53
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Gumbo Bulge, in the dirt "Argh! My fuckin ribs!!" Gumbo grumbles. At least the metal human is dead. And a few of these troops just dropped too. He grins at Yurik, nearby. "'Stoo easy Yurk. Like shootin mudfish in a mudbucket."* He rests his gun in front of him, takes aim again without moving, best not to move too much, he thinks. He wonders if his militia can hear him over all this noise. Worth a punt. "You lot!! Shoot these fuckers over ere! Les show em what we got, eh?!" *mud has many uses to a Scrunt and is hoarded in buckets by Scrunt societies across the galaxy Half aim and full auto at squad five BS 30-10(full auto)+10(aim)+5(Pirk)+30(point blank I think)=65?? Yelling at the militia to focus fire on squad five. Ranged Volley order to Pirk, Get them order to all comrades in range 43 + 10 = 53.
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Sep 10, 2015 10:57
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Grimply, PTSD Parlor There have been a lot of hosed up things in Grimply's life. And most of them have been pretty hosed up even by scrunt standards. Seeing your only friend fall to his death, while a hulking and screaming metal demon tries to rip you apart with his metal claws still ranks fairly high though! The fact that said demon just exploded makes the whole thing a bit better, but Grimply did certainly not have a good time so far. Now he lies on his back again, cloak and face all crispy and scorched, and for the first time in this battle he's able to take a breather. While he inhales, his mind roulette starts to spin the metaphorical ball. See, Grimply's psychosis is kinda like a complex slot machine where the quarters also influence what prizes you can get. His recent experiences are all connected through death and the fear of dying, so the combined pressure speaks to a certain aspect of his schizophrenia. It's a very old voice, that has slumbered for a while now. It was even there before the father first spoke to him. It was with him when he was still a young scrunt, all alone on a hellish and green planet, between the corpses and neatly stacked skulls of his scrunt tribe. And it's entirely focused on one thing: Kill before being killed. Grimply blinks, stands up, and then pulls out his rugged scrunt knife. With the other hand he produces his grappling hook, and fires it at the trashed edge of the roof while he starts to run. A primal scream begins to form at the back of his throat..... At an earlier point of time, Flet had the unfortunate experience of falling from a roof. Granted, the fall wasn't very high, but it was still an unpleasant thing especially with that metal monster below him. In the spirit of Flet's uncanny luck, he falls right into a soft heap of mostly plastic trash instead of a snapping metal claw. That certainly is a relief, but cosmic irony strikes as the explosion of the monster sweeps over Flet's trash pile. The plastic parts instantly melt and cover him in a patchwork shape that's pretty close to a ball. And when the aftershock hits, he tumbles behind the barricades with an astonished "Fack!" I ditch my rifle and get my stabber, and then climb down the roof aiming to end up next to whatever poo poo will be going on around squad five 22 vs 77 (47 Agil+30 Hook) Scrunt Melee Weapon (Mono-truncheon - Melee, 1d10 I + Strength Bonus, pen2) "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 36 / full round reload / Accurate, Reliable(Unreliable with overload), Felling (1)) GM reminder that I'm very small and have a camo cloak Tin Tim fucked around with this message at 18:59 on Sep 10, 2015 |
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Sep 10, 2015 18:55
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Grumb spends one fate point to recover 1d5 wounds, and I roll a 1.
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Sep 10, 2015 18:59
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lol
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Sep 10, 2015 19:20
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Virga The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMkYR7axhQI Murdelia scrapes out vile scrunty lubricant from the storm autogun's ammo socket. It's unpleasant and pearlescent but she's reasonably sure she can get a magazine to stick in there now. It still needs reloading though; maybe it's worth switching to the multilaser and blazing away, assuming Mung can get the Chimera pointed at something squishy. Mung, sensing the bloodlust of a fellow scrunt, attempts to get the Chimera pointed at something squishy. He's concious of the irritating human plastered to the side of his hull, and attempts to smash the little bastard against the wall of the workshop. Unfortunately he misjudges his position in the darkness, and instead simply plows through the doorjam backwards, turning too late to make his unwelcome passenger collide with the wall. Worse, the momentum allows the human to shift himself on the chassis, placing the bulk of the Chimera between him and the hostile rifles of the scrunt militia. His passenger can only hang on for dear life. With his free hand, he scrabbles for another grenade as he shuffles round onto the rear of the vehicle. Squad Four decide discretion is the better part of valour. Having shot the poo poo out of Grumb, they flinch as the metal golem to the north goes up in a pyrotechnic display, and they consider this enough action for one day. They high-tail it out of the gate in a tactical retreat, taking cover behind the gatepost. Drekk bellows a fearsome warcry and splits a young PDF trooper from sternum to stomach in a ferocious display of overkill. He has, however, only killed one man, and it takes him precious seconds to tug his weapon from the spurting corpse; seconds that he might have preferred to spend dodging. Yurik does his best to ensure dodging is an unnecessary luxury. Wincing from his wounds, the psyscrunt nevertheless blazes away merrily into the melee in front of him. By fluke, passed off as luck, he sends bullets whizzing into two struggling, untrained humans. There is a brief moment of existential uncertainty before two of them collapse to the ground, bleeding out their life on the tarmac. Grumb tracks the fleeing, yeeing Squad Four as they run, blasting a torrent of shells after them. One particularly unlucky trooper zigs where he should have zagged, and his torso vanishes in a fine red mist. Pallid limbs and a shocked head scythe off into the night as Grumb mutters angrily to himself. He feels very, very slightly better. Gumbo's blood is up; he hoses down the remnants of Squad Five with fire. He doesn't hose them down very accurately, in fairness, but he manages to catch one of them in the throat with a lucky ricochet. The man sinks to his knees, bubbling. The scrunt militia appear willing to follow his example, and other scrunts take heart from his own separate, but no less fearsome warcry. Groin charges towards the nearby medical truck and headbutts his way in through the window. There's no keys in the ignition, but he's pretty sure he can hotwire the thing with the loose, fraying cables in his arm. Grimply snaps, very slightly. He's already pretty broken, so it's quite hard to see a difference, but he lets go of his rifle and rappels down the building in short order. He just barely beats the gun down to the ground, and snatches it on the rebound in one puny hand, knife brandished in the other. The remaining member of Squad Five is having a pretty terrible day. He's seen his underlings slashed and shot by gnarled figures from the shadows, and now only he remains, locked in a dance of death with this weird purple midget with the tiny toothbrush moustache. Still, he's been in tighter spots, and in a way he's kind of glad that his troopers died before they ran. He resolves to sell his life dearly, smashing his mace into Drekk's stomach, driving the wind from the scrunt. The Scrunt Militia take offense to this blatant assault on a friendly scrunt, and level their weapons. They don't stop to think whether or not sending several kilos of lead downrange at a friendly scrunt is also a blatant assault, but Drekk's still doubled over from the attack and most of the shots miss him or ricochet off his helmet. The sergeant is less lucky; he is torn to shreds by the fusillade. More scrunts wander off vaguely away from the combat. It looks like the drop trooper might be selling his life to enable Squad Four to escape  lightmap!  darkmap! ---- scrint wait, scrunt Murdelia unjams gun. It works but will take two rounds to reload. Mung engages in an opposed Operate vs Agility test and completely flubs it; 81 vs 14, giving a remarkable number of DoS failure. He fails to scrape off the drop trooper. His buddy on the hull is also able to take leg-and-torso cover against the militia. Team One trooper spends half an action hanging on; quickdraws an unknown grenade; shuffles round via Athletics to the rear of the tank. Still got his head and arms exposed to the militia, though. Squad Four start to escape. You can shoot at them but as less than half the squad is on display, they count as in torso-leg cover. Drekk actually rolls atrociously on damage, but such are his stats and weapons that if he hits a PDF trooper he literally cannot not kill him. Four remain; Drekk cannot dodge due to all-out-attacking. Yurik initially got 3DoS and thus got two hits, rolling badly enough on one of them to leave his target alive. Then I realised he hadn't taken a) melee, b) darkness, and c) short range into account, meaning he only hit one. Then I realised he wasn't actually shooting into darkness, meaning he hit two. Then I realised he hadn't scored a killing shot on the second one anyway, so it was really all a big waste of time. Then I realised he had Ranged Volley active, meaning he had in fact killed the second dude. That's when I topped up my glass. Grumb doesn't actually do overwatch; he can still draw line of sight against Squad Four. He kills a man, as some scanty revenge. This enables him to regain a wound, somehow; he is now on -2. Gumbo forgot his -20 for firing into melee, so only gets 1DoS, which kills another dude. One left! Scrunt militia hear the order to attack squad five; Get Them! goes off again without a hitch. Groin is in the drivers seat of a poo poo truck!!! Grimply basically gave me actions for stepping off a roof; half action to draw knife, half action to move. Nice one. I'm instead assuming you're going to use your climbing set as described, which is on your belt and can be used one-handedly. A successful short abseil and knife-draw (Scrunt melee weapon) occur; the rifle is in your other hand. Squad Five only has the sergeant left; he hits Drekk for 10 damage before soak, causing four wounds. Drekk can't dodge thanks to his all out attack. the militia shoot the everliving poo poo out of the sarge; six hits, including, bizarrely, one righteous fury. he dead. the scrunts bumble aimlessly towards the gate, in a bid for freedom digging the cohesive tactical thinking in focusing fire on the fifth squad, but there's such a thing as overkill
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Sep 11, 2015 21:23
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Drekk The Farm Malbrathia-3 Cooldown It took him, Yurik, Gumbo, and the Scrunt Militia to wipe out the Squad. Drekk eased himself up, knocked down by the sergeant's mace, who was then subsequently torn to shreds in a hail of bullets from the militia. Some of Drekk's ribs were broken in the scuffle, but they'll heal in time. He eyes Squad 4 fleeing, he could go after them, but it's suicide without backup. He eyed Mung's Chimera, and there's another humie on it. Feckin' humie is gonna steal it back, possibly. Drekk's gonna make sure that doesn't happen *** EDIT: Gonna participate in Operation: Get that Jackass Off the Scruntmera. 46 WS + 30 WS (Charge) = 76 Rolled a 26 If the Scruntmera is too far to charge, then Run or Spring and then I'll spend my next actions attacking him. Kaiju Cage Match fucked around with this message at 23:52 on Sep 14, 2015 |
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Sep 13, 2015 18:51
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Mungly Mung Driving me closer, I want you to hit him with your sword. Mung can't quite seem to shake the dirty fucker who wants to give his chimera a Krak grenade enema, so he does the next best thing: Drive it to the people who can shoot and/or hit the guy off. Spending my full turn to move chimera to a position where the guy can be shot by the most amount of small guns and/or stabbed as possible. Someone finish him so we can exfiltrate the farm. code:
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Sep 13, 2015 23:42
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Yurik Scraglagger The Siege Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 2/12 Yurik chuckled along with Gumbo's assessment of the situation as he contributed to the demise of yet more humies from a position of safety and superiority, his preferred method of dealing with violence of any sort. But they weren't entirely safe, not yet. Now that he'd had a few moments to reacquaint himself with his own body and the numerous bullet holes it had acquired in his absence he was all too aware of what could happen if they let their guard down. Those humie bastards had tried and failed to kill him once already (he thought to himself, completely unaware that it had actually been other scrunts that had shot him) and he wasn't inclined to give them a second chance. The best way to ensure they didn't get one, then, was to kill all of them first. But the squad he had been shooting at was now thoroughly shot, stabbed, sliced, and otherwise dispatched, which meant it was time to round up the stragglers and make sure none of them escaped. Beyond simple vindictiveness, if any of the Severans lived to report to their superiors that they knew where the stolen nuclear bomb was then the next group they sent to recover it would be even bigger. No, best to keep them in the dark...if all they knew was that their forces had been wiped out but not why then it could buy them the time they needed to relocate somewhere more secure and less on fire. "C'mon Gumbo, they're makin' a break for it! Don't let'em get away!," he shouted, scuttling as quickly as he could towards the open window he'd smashed open with a borrowed body, Hack in tow, as below the remaining squad of humies attempted a tactical withdrawal from the farm. *** Yurik will take the fastest Full Action move available to him to reach a firing position overlooking the remaining Severan squad.
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Sep 17, 2015 07:23
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Murdelia Skurvy Being useless Murdelia flicks some more lubricant away, but it's everywhere, all over her gloves, the gun, the spare magazines. She's not a mechanoscrunt or technobbler, and can't tell a wanget from a scrodal. The whole thing's a mystery and until it starts bleeding or screaming it's going to stay that way. Wiping off excess lube on Arnika's smock, she yells at Mung "Et's no good, the fackin' gun is ruined! Comploitely non-functional!" but given the roaring engine, screams of scrunt and human, and banging sounds coming from outside, he might not have heard. He continues revving the engine and jerking the controls regardless. Passing back through a drift of trash, Murdelia clambers up into the turret and nestles in behind the gun controls. A cursory inspection shows that the turret ring has become jammed, rendering the gun extremely situational in its effectiveness. She vents some frustration by dragging the gun controls around ineffectually and firing the multilaser. _________________________ Murdelia moves to the multilaser turret and probably does nothing useful unless the gun is pointed directly at an enemy.
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Sep 17, 2015 13:49
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Grimply, Flashback Fever If the split personalites that hide in Grimply's head would actually be sentient entities, the one currently in control would be angry about the lack of things to stab. Sure, there are scrunts around. And some scrunts are devious and want to harm Grimply like that facker Grumb. But he isn't here and deep down Grimply knows that it's wrong to just stab some random scrunts. At least most of the time. Thus, his warped mind decides to hiss violently and stab the air around him to get its point across. Which is to not gently caress with Grimply right now. Flet is still caught in a coat of melted plastic, but he managed to figure out that he can use what little momentum his body can generate to slowly roll back towards the action. Very slowly and with setbacks when he bumps into a piece of debris on the ground. I'll basically just hang tight and continue to be insane for a bit more because I can't really do much else
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Sep 17, 2015 19:19
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Grumb Slanger, cowering by the window Grumb starts to chase after the fleeing humans, taking one step onto his mangled leg and falling over on his face. He screams in impotent frustration, firing wildly into the outer wall as the enemy runs out of sight. -------------------------- Standard Action - Aim Standard Action - Suppressing fire Clive the Autocannon - Heavy 300m S/3/– 3d10+8 I Pen 6 Clip 20, 2full reload, reliable 45 BS + 10 Aim + 5 Ranged Volley Order + 10 Short Range - 20 Suppressing Fire (target 50). I roll a 06. That's 5 degrees of success, or 3 if there's also a -20 from lighting. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 18:04 on Sep 18, 2015 |
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Sep 18, 2015 16:26
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Dissolution The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jh_pW0HmTM It's all over bar the screaming, really. Murdelia gives up on the unpleasantly slippery machinegun and drops down to grab the multilaser controls. She holds down the trigger, yelling to drown out the sound of the drop trooper attempting to dismantle her ride. Mung continues his quest to dislodge the tenacious Severan attempting to jam grenades up his exhaustpipe. He wheels the Chimera around a bit, pulls a few handbrake turns, does some donuts, that sort of thing, while Murdelia empties the laser batteries into the night sky. Astoundingly, the drop trooper remains clinging to the rear armour like a limpet; Mung ends up with the rear of his vehicle pointing towards the farmhouse scrunts and the militia, and the front pointing towards the remainder of Squad 4, but he's faintly nauseous now and has probably screwed with Murdelia's aim a little. Murdelia, head spinning, realises that she's got the fleeing PDF squad in her sights! She guides the stream of laser pulses towards them, shots chewing up the road in a jagged stream towards the fleeing humans, and just as the coruscescent energies would have caught the stragglers, the weapon overheats and shuts down. The medic yees in frustration. The remaining Drop Trooper attempts to stuff a nasty-looking grenade into the tailport of the Chimera, but, buffeted around as he is, manages to fumble at the last minute. He swears violently above the noise of the engine as his grenade bounces harmlessly off onto the tarmac, detonating with a flash and a whoosh. Acidic fumes rise as a healthy chunk of suddenly-protonated road dissolves. Squad Four make a break for the treeline. Their discipline seems wavery but they're still in formation as they disappear from view; they can still be chased down before they return to base camp, and they're unlikely to spend the time to cover their tracks. Drekk keeps a wary distance as Mung swings the Chimera round and round, but as soon as it looks like the technoscrunt is going to keep going in a straight line, the swordscrunt is up and running, lashing out with both arms as the Chimera goes thundering past. It's a solid swing that nearly takes the drop trooper's arm off at the elbow; the Severan loses his grip and drops to the road with a crash. Yurik considers making a move to get a better shot at the fleeing Severan squad, but decides that a bad chance is better than no chance. He clips off a few rounds at the fleeing humans, but only manages to hit foliage. Grumb is still too woozy to stand, but makes his best guess at where the remaining Severans are. Rolling onto his back and propping Clive against the ground, he looses off a salvo of shells through both the wall of the farmhouse and the farm perimeter wall. Great rents are made in the rockcrete through which the fleeing Severans can be seen. Astoundingly, Barry manages to bring one of them down with a lucky burst from Betsy. Gumbo takes aim and fires at the drop trooper, but manages to miss quite convincingly. Gesturing furiously, he attempts to make the scrunt militia believe that this is their fault, with some success. Groin starts to hotwire the truck he's just stolen. He wrenches off the ignition panel, wrenches his bionic eye out of its socket, and applies the sparking wires directly to the mechanism within. He has no success, but feels confident that this approach will work given time. Jekk loiters furtively in the passenger seat, presumably keeping a look out for the police. Grimply hisses violently to himself as the Scrunt militia rack their weapons. The end is mercifully swift for the wounded drop trooper, as a wind of lead cracks his armour and strips the flesh from his bones.  final map!! -------------- Convergence The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZT8gOzcEgw It really is all over. The scrunts have managed to fend off whatever the Severans had to throw at them, and the humans never managed to communicate the discovery of the stolen truck back to HQ. The fact that something very dangerous lives at this farm is, however, pretty obvious, and there's no telling whether the humans'll be looking to come back in force. The snipers know there's scrunts here, and there's very little chance of getting to them before they can make a withdrawal. Should the fleeing Squad Four manage to escape, they will doubtless be able to share more intel on the scrunts, but they've still got no idea of any vehicles apart from the Scruntmera. In the meantime, there's a whole shitstorm that needs cleaning up. Most of the scruntsquad are unsteady on their feet, and many are seriously wounded. There's corpses, blood and small fires all over the place; most of the buildings have severe structural damage, most of the vehicles need time in the machineshop, and there are piles and piles of dead scrunts everywhere due to collateral damage or direct attack. Squad Four have made it to the trees but a dedicated tracker with some support could doubtless find them and bring them down; there's unlikely to be much fight left in them. The civilian scrunt population need calming down as well; many of them are furious at being attacked in their homes or from nearly being killed by giant metal monsters. There's still a bona-fide biohazard area near where Hardchest exploded that should probably be either investigated or quarantined before scrunts are allowed to traipse all over it. There's wounds all over that need seeing to, and there's bodies to loot before the general population get a hold of them. Plus, there appear to be a bunch of crates in the back of the Hardchest transport truck that look suspiciously similar to the ones received earlier in trade for the Ophidius Genestealer corpse. Maybe there's some clues as to other currently outstanding mysteries, for scrunts willing to look. It's been hard-fought, and the scrunts have learned some tough lessons, but the immediate danger is past. Still, the rain's coming in harder now, and it looks like this was just the start of what's shaping up to be a very bad night. ------ scrunt murdelia takes a half action to switch from pintle (exposed, top of turret) to mounted (not exposed, internal) weapon and delays with the other half. remember that delaying actions are half-for-half in this combat, but will return to being properly full-for-half subsequently. it's because the rulebook's got a misprint!! mung does an opposed Operate - Acrobatics test with a healthy bonus to try and dislodge the guy on the back. He loses by a single DoS murdelia uses her delayed action to let loose with a full auto burst from the multilaser, with characteristic results. the multilaser is now, also, jammed. drop trooper cocks up his attack and misses. grenade scatters, hits no-one. Squad Four basically make it off the map, but will still take attacks from this round. Drekk hits the drop trooper for enough damage to remove all his wounds; further damage will put him into Critical. He falls off the Chimera. Yurik can just barely draw a bead on the fleeing Severan squad so doesn't move; he fires a semi-auto burst, instead, missing heartily. Grumb gets his suppress on, with a Ranged Volley from Barry. It's -20 because of Suppressing Fire, but not because of lighting. He actually manages to connect with two shells, one of which does enough damage to kill a Severan thanks to Barry's assistance!! They get cover from both walls so they soak a lot of damage; people can now draw LoS through both walls to Squad 4, which would probably matter more if anyone else was actually going to fire. Gumbo fires, misses, gets off Get Them! again, and orders the scrunt militia to shoot the drop dude. Groin tech-uses to try and get the truck started, fails. Grimply does his thang, Militia completely pulp the remaining trooper, bringing him down to Critical -16. so yeah, well done all!!! 600XP to all scrunts! loot revealed once i know where looting falls on your priority list, and if you want to maybe give some suggestions on what you're after in the recruitment thread, that'd be handy. i will do a tallysheet of what i think the damage is to PCs, vehicles and general scrunt population in the next post Gender Illusionist can now jump in at any time; you get the 600xp as well, i want to keep all the scrunts at the same level e: aw man i forgot to move Drekk on the map. oh well who cares. maybe he's just got really long arms Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 18:17 on Sep 18, 2015 |
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Sep 18, 2015 17:41
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A couple of things - There was definitely a window in the southern wall a a few rounds ago. There was also some sort of acid grenade that went off just outside the window. I imagine there's a pretty wide hole in the southern wall at this point, so maybe they should only have received one wall's worth of soak? Also, shouldn't 5 successes have granted 3 hits on a semi-automatic burst, or does suppression work differently? edit: or am I still doing successes wrong? it's one success for beating the target number, plus another for beating TN 40, another for beating TN 30, another for beating 20, and another for beating 10. Right? Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 18:35 on Sep 18, 2015 |
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Sep 18, 2015 18:28
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Ignite Memories posted:A couple of things - There was definitely a window in the southern wall a a few rounds ago. There was also some sort of acid grenade that went off just outside the window. I imagine there's a pretty wide hole in the southern wall at this point, so maybe they should only have received one wall's worth of soak? Also, shouldn't 5 successes have granted 3 hits on a semi-automatic burst, or does suppression work differently? there's definitely a window but it's not like you're looking through the window and then through the brick wall. you're pretty much firing blind into the main body of where you think the squad are for this, so they get both sets of soak. i thought you were doing the "blast big holes in the wall" thing you wanted to do as per the rec thread. if it was "standard attack at the few dudes i can see" then you'd be firing at that bit of the squad and they wouldn't get both sets, but equally there'd be no cleared LoS and no suppression acid grenade hasn't removed the wall it has removed some of the cover AP granted by the wall. i was going off the 3DoS you'd put in your post. you can kill another guy if you want, it makes no difference at this point. there's still seven others running away
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Sep 18, 2015 19:14
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I quoted 5 degrees of success, though. the -20 from suppressing fire was already calculated in there. Did I incur a dark-fighting penalty or not? I guess it doesn't really matter, I just have a hell of a time keeping the combat rules straight in my head so I wanted to clarify. edit: this may be what confused me. DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:Grumb gets his suppress on, with a Ranged Volley from Barry. It's -20 because of Suppressing Fire, but not because of lighting. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 19:26 on Sep 18, 2015 |
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Sep 18, 2015 19:19
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Grumb Slanger, emerging from the farmhouse. "Gat-dangit, they's retrittin! After 'em, Barry, they's gettin' away!" Grumb yells into his cousin's ear as Barry drags the mangled gunner from the rubble and glass. He drags Grumb a few meters before losing his breath and collapsing outside the farmhouse. "I canna catch uppem, Grumb, they's too fast! And you's too 'eavy!" Barry whines, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Grumb spits out a mouthful of dirt, scowling at his cousin. Barry smiles at him bashfully. "I fink I got one, Grumb." "Hah! Yeah," Grumb peers over to the fallen soldier beyond the gate. "Yeah, I guess so. Good shootin, Bare." He looks back at the chimera wheeling around behind him, and whistles for attention. "Hey you lot! I needs reinfarce- i needs mobaliz- dangol, Gimme a lift!" Barry drags Grumb over to the chimera, popping the hatch to find Murdelia and Mung inside. Murdelia greets the two of them with a hearty "Feck!", while Mung hisses passive-aggressively from the controls. "Oi, Murdy, Barry sighs, "is we glad to see you." As Barry shoves Grumb into the hatch, Grumb grabs him by the shoulders. "Listen, Barry. It's not safe here anymore. They knows where we is!" He begins shaking his cousin excitedly. "Fine the Sarge! Fine Erryone! We gots ta round everybody up. We gotta git the gas, git the nukular bong and GIT!" Barry nods with grim purpose. He reaches into the chimera, giving Grumb a big scared bearhug, and bolts. Grumb clutches his leg as Barry scampers off into the night. Godspeed you little poo poo, Grumb thinks. Barry chuckles to himself, caressing the scruntinel keys in his grubby mitts. He'd get their attention, alright. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 03:08 on Sep 19, 2015 |
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Sep 19, 2015 02:56
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Drekk The Farm Malbrathia-3 What seemed like days finally came to an end. Blood, carnage, a walker getting totaled, not bad, but the damage to the buildings, the Severans know the location of the farm, plus the civilian scrunts sharting their britches doesn't bode well. Drekk and Widget walk over to the Chimera and they knock on the hatch door before being let in. Inside, he sees a scrunt in a red poncho at the driver's seat, fecking about with levers and buttons, another one futzing around in the lasturret, and a familiar sight: The beefy scrunt from earlier. "You alright, mate?" Drekk asked in a concerned tone. Widget offers to prop him up and buckle him in a chair. Drekk has something else on his mind, he tells the driver this: "Oi, the 'umies are gettin' away! I know a bit of the lay 'o the land so we should be able to kill 'em. They probably don't have much fight in 'em left anyway. If you don't want to go afta 'em, that's fine.
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Sep 19, 2015 03:22
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Grug Emerging from a manhole into the farm The sounds of fighting had died down but Grug knew he was getting near the source... Despite having spent most of his life alone in the guts of a ruined hive, Grug found voyage on the crowded vessel a wonderful experience and was able to exercise parts of his personality which had never before seen the light of day, gregarious (though infrequently reciprocated) and motivated (though only, with manic/religeous fervour, to reach the fabled Slam Sector). He crawled all over the ship, talking at other scrunts for hours about what things are good to eat and what are less good but still possible to eat and thing which are most certainly not for eating and what sort of things there would be to eat in the Slam Sector. He hoped it would be beetles and disposable chemical energy cells. On reaching Malbrathia's surface, Grug, filled with zeal and certainty, screamed/gurgled that "the Slam Sector is THIS way!" and charged down a manhole into the sewers. After hours of running and screaming he stopped to catch his breath... and realised he was alone again. The other scrunts must have got lost. Yes, that was it. Well, he'd just have to look for them. ... he climbed the last few rungs of the ladder, slid the manhole aside and peered around. Scrunts! he couldnt be sure that these were the scrunts he came down with but they sure do look like they need help looking for the Slam Sector! And what's the weird chemical smell? Is it edible? He'd certainly tried a few in his home hive. "Hello there *gurgle* chums!" he cheerily says to no-one in particular, "Well, isn't that a wonderful *sniiiiif*," he wipes snot along his fore arm, "smell!" He waddles, covering ground surprisingly quickly for one so clumsy looking, over to the wreckage of hardchestnaught to investigate the smell, keeping an eye out for anything useful on the way.
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Sep 19, 2015 21:27
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Convergence, Addendum The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7XsHItaDhY One of the Severans trips over a spent autocannon round and brains himself on a rock, while the others high-tail it into the night. As the pursuit detail begins to coelesce, other scrunts drag their battered forms away from windows and light, and squat in darkness; some to get their breath back, some out of an atavistic burrowing instinct. For a few seconds, the sizzle of raindrops on hot rock, the plink of cooling metal, the revving of engines and the moans of the wounded are the only noises to be heard. Eventually, white noise begins to pour from the radios of the dead, as Mung's jamming device finally comes online. The rats squeak and chitter as they crank the handle. Presently, some of the more driven scrunts rouse themselves from their momentary stupor, and begin to take stock of the damage to their camp. Grug, in particular, comes up behind a couple of curious technoscrunts who are gathered around the faintly-writhing, cherry-red remnants of the deceased Hardchest, warming their hands. Gobbets of living metal appear to be trying to clump together but failing due to the heat, and the scrunts seem to be working up the courage to subject them to the traditional scrunty taste test. Raindrops are flashing into steam before hitting the chassis. ------------- scrunt rolecall!! Scrunt Wounds Taken: Murdelia - 3 wounds Yurik - 10 wounds Groin - 0 wounds, Jekk is wounded Grumb - down to Critical 1 Drekk - 4 wounds Gumbo - 11 wounds Scrunt Vehicle Damage Taken: Scruntinel - 7 points Scruntmera - 2 points; locked turret has unjammed as it's not true critical damage Scruntauros - 11 points yell if this looks wrong stuff you can deal with now include the things highlighted in the second part of the previous post. in particular, before i dole out loot, i am looking to see what priority you put on looting vs wrangling the general scrunt population vs pursuit of those guys who escaped also feel free to do other things if you have other priorities Grug has joined, and is poised at the corner of the dreadnaught wreckage. it looks pretty obviously dangerous; there's shards of living metal all over the place, and two microreactors have just detonated there so it's both physically hot and radioactively so. currently some scrunts are poised to gently caress around with the junk there, which may be wise or it may not be. here is the scruntometer. it is a representation of how the scrunt subfactions respect you as of this post. individual PCs may have further modifiers. see the recruitment thread for further details.  the order is General, Weird, Techno, Agrarian, Conservative, Radical
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Sep 19, 2015 21:51
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Yurik Scraglagger The Siege Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 2/12 And just like that, it was all over. Yurik stood there breathing heavily, clutching his smoking autogun as the last of the humies fled into the rainy darkness. Water hissed and steamed as it fell on burning structures and the superheated remains of the cybernetic walker's chassis. For once there were no cries of "Slam!" and "Feck!" from the milling scruntmob, just a quiet shuffling as everyone tried to come to terms with what had just happened. The Loremaster's fingers twitched, an aftereffect of adrenaline mixed with his brief but harrowing jaunt through the Warp. How long would it be before more humies arrived? Hours? Days? The Severan forces had tasked air transports and whatever that shouting stomper was to this attack, he thought as his knowledge-infused mind whirred like an engine turbocharged on scruntmade moonshine, which indicated a certain degree of importance, but at the same time the Severans were busy dealing with Imperial elements, and even if any of the fleeing soldiers managed to report to base on foot in a timely fashion they'd need to be debriefed, their accounts corroborated by reconnaissance... Which meant they might have some time before this place was crawling with humies. Unless they didn't. "Well fack'em anyway," he thought, cackling with post-battle mania. "If they come back then we'll just have to kill'em all over again." Yurik's body was a throbbing blob of pain, and while most of the wounds he'd suffered appeared upon inspection to be non lifethreatening a part of him wanted to do nothing more than lie down and loudly complain until someone came and patched him up. But even taking the wheels of military bureaucracy into account he knew they needed to move quickly, and so grumbling all the way he hobbled out of the farmhouse to survey the aftermath and start browbeating scrunts into some sort of, if not order, then at least a directed form of chaos. The first scrunt he came across was Grimply who appeared uninjured but nonetheless seemed to be having a difficult time of things judging by the maddened look in his eyes, something Yurik could relate to. The knife he was waving around was a bit more disturbing, but fortunately the sniper had the presence of mind not to stab him. Yurik was seized by an unexpected feeling of...relief? Gladness?...that Grimply had come through things in one piece. "Friendship" was as alien a concept to Yurik as hygiene and so, not knowing what else to do, he awkwardly patted the other scrunt on the shoulder (on the non-knife side). "Nice shot," he mumbled, his thinkin' cap popping and sparking with errant brain energies. "Er, uh, shootin' I mean. Not just the one." Having fulfilled his obligated quota of companionship for the evening he ambled towards the smoldering wreckage of the walker and yelped with alarm as his eyes fell upon Grug. Was it possible for a scrunt to be too ugly even by scrunt standards? That was a conundrum for the great philosophers of the age, but Grug seemed ready to provide the matter with a definitive answer. Yurik scuttled warily around the lumpen and distressingly unclothed newcomer and made his way closer to the wreckage, whereupon he slapped at the hand of a curious technoscrunt reaching for a piece of wiggling metal. "Don't fackin' touch that, ya' sop-brained scullylug!," he shouted, vague scraps of knowledge within his brain having suggested that living metal was probably a Bad Thing. "Y'don't wanna end up like that fackin' humie, do ya'? Entombed in some great stompin' war machine, arms all made outta guns an' other guns, shoutin' fit to rumble the gunk right outta your ears?" Satisfied that no scrunt could possibly want such a thing as to be horribly transformed into a gigantic shouting, stomping, shooting war-machine, Yurik glanced at the scattered debris warily. Somewhere in the background he heard the telltale clicking of an auspex's radiation sensor, the natural result of a microreactor detonation. Radiation...the Severans were after the nuclear warhead that had been stolen from them, and they were no doubt attempting to track it by scanning for radiological anomalies, which meant... A broken lightbulb appeared over Yurik's head, no doubt conjured through the Warp, before shattering on his thinkin' cap as it fell. "You lot!," he said as authoritatively as he could manage to the gathering of technoscrunts. "I've got a job for ya', a dangerous mission of scientifical importance! I need you to gather up as much of this junk as you can, but NOT the wigglin' stuff, got it? Use tongs an' big sticks, gather it all up, put it in a box or somethin' and put the box in one of those limozeens. Then, an' here's the important part aye?, then I need you to drive...thataway," he said, gesturing in a direction that was away from the underground tunnel network they'd discovered earlier. "An' pitch all that shite out the window one bit at a time as you go. Got it?" *** First off, Yurik is using his Divination minor manifestation on Grimply. Remember that good luck/bad luck thing he did to Grumb? This time he's using the good luck part of it. It's Willpower +30 for TN 80 and I roll a 63 so Grimply is due to receive the Scruntfather's Favor in an unspecified fashion. Second, Yurik will attempt to create a false radioactive trail of breadcrumbs leading away from the farm and tunnels both to convince clever Severans out nuke-hunting that the nuke is being taken elsewhere. He's going to split his attention between wrangling scrunts and looting, leaving pursuit to other scrunts.
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Sep 21, 2015 20:27
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Mungly Mung Mung heard the taletale thump and splatter of the grabassin' human first getting knocked loose of his precious vehicle and then getting fragged by militia fire. For a second Mung was sure he was going to have to reassemble the exhaust port on the chimera but thankfully the grenade bounced wide. Just like clockwork, once the danger had passed the tech-rats squealed and beeped in triump as they finally get the coms jammer brought online, scrambling the coms of a bunch of corpses. Their victory cry was cut short when Mung interrupted their chatter "Too late there kids, ya done got it workin' a day late and a crown short ya furry idjits" Mung brings the vehicle to a stop and opens the back hatch to clamber out while a few of the other combat scrunts scrambled in. His tech rats followed along, doing their best to haul the coms scrambler along. Mung protected his precious big fire and it was clear he wasn't interested in a protracted chase with the remaining militia members. Mung surveyed the chaos wrought in the last few precious minutes. If the nuke didn't turn the farm into a radioactive shithole then the flaming wreck of the weirdo dreadnought certainly did, and the rain wasn't going to help things along. The talky strangescrunt seemed to be doing an allright job ordering the techscrunts around the flaming wreck of the walker, so he left him to that while Mung worked on other priorities. They were going to need to vacate the farm in short order and the scrunts needed to get their loot packed away. Including the stuff that needs looted off the corpses. Already soaked through and miserable with rain water, Mung goes from corpse to corpse collecting what's left of intact gear from the dead Severans and gets it all brought into the workshop. As Mung passes the first corpse he grabs one of the microbeads off the body and puts it on, wondering what is being said about the farm that isn't in military code -- Taking stock specifically of any notable weapons/gear/armor scraps I can salvage off of dead soldiers, gathering them up in the workshop as part of THE LOOT PILE. Second order of business is getting as much fuel loaded back into the tanker as possible, I'll mobilize any techscrunts that aren't on Yurik's radioactive scatter program. While this is going on I'll loot a comm bead or if there's a they brought one that still functions a Vox and passively listen in to Sevran comms to see if anything is being said about us that I can understand. I'm going to have a bad roll at it though since I don't know military lingo: This may be a point where I study up on whatever comms I can pick up and spend exp to learn it, still haven't decided if I want to or not. I'm specifically staying out of the dreadnought business unless brought into it in character since we've probably got enough scrunts investigating it. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 00:33 on Sep 22, 2015 |
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Sep 22, 2015 00:27
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Grumb Slanger, inside the chimera "Yeoww ow owwie!" Grumb winces as Widget assists him into one of the crew chairs. "Think mah fackin' leg's blown clean off, mang! Dagnabbin, I can' walk no-more!" Murdelia peers back at him, drawing closer to take a look at his knee. She spits thoughtfully. "Ain' nothin' wrong witit, Grumb, quitcher bellyachin'." She prods him in the knee with her stethoscope for emphasis. Grumb bashfully mumbles "I got shot by a bullets...", scraping his foot on the chimera floor petulantly. "Well quit standin' in the way o' them all the time." Murdelia teasingly snorts. Grumb blinks. "Well, uh, it, uh, wad'n maybe so bad as I... Dangol, bleedin' all ore the place, thought maybe you'd..." He trails off, standing shakily and flexing a big lumpy charlie horse out of his shin. He looks to the pointy-helmeted berzerker, fruitlessly attempting to engage the driver in conversation as Mung wanders off to loot the bodies. "Hey, new guy! If ye wan' any of the good swag we should git movin' afore the ressa the scrunts get to lickin' errything good." As he clambers out of the hatch door with Drek, Grumb eyes the vicious knife at the scrunt's side. "Thas some nice shankin' there, mang... Name's Grumb Slanger." He wipes his hand on his pants absentmindedly, smearing it with his own blood as he extends the offer to shake. It was at that moment that Barry Sczemanski-Slanger ran clanking by on a stinking, sputtering sentinel, spouting jets of flame and saving Drek from the socially awkward moment. "HAY YOU LOT!" He shrieks to the scrunt populace as the stomps around the farm. "GATHER UP YER poo poo! GATHER UP THEY SHITS, TOO! WE'S GOING ON DA MOVE!" ------------------------------- Grumb will attempt to gather loot while Barry attempts to help wrangle the scrunt populace. I rolled a 38 for any applicable test, which I understand would be untrained as a companion action but maybe the sentinel will help to at least centralize everybody's attention. Maybe a more charismatic scrunt can take it from there. Grumb is looking for fancy weapon mods, heavy weapons, new boots, drugs, communication systems, combat stimpacks/medicine and maybe some supplementary armor to augment his synskin getup. Since I already have true grit I've been thinking about trying to play up his tankiness in combat. Grumb also is resolving to try harder not to get shot with bullets. Training Dodge for 200 pts. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 19:41 on Sep 22, 2015 |
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Sep 22, 2015 19:26
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Grug sniffing the wrecked hardchestnaught *shits self* unrestrained by trousers, a flood of scrunt poo poo spills out across the street and trickles into the sewer. A quick calculation in your head tells you that a creature of that size cannot possibly produce that much poo poo; something is very wrong here, far beyond the realm of usual senses and dimensions. "nope, I will find food elsewhere!"
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Sep 23, 2015 23:36
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Groin Sklunger Farm Groin spends time licking the entire utility truck vehicle thing. ______ Licking vehicle.
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Sep 24, 2015 14:36
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Moola please do something useful or nothing will happen to your scrunt and you'll get bored. Gender Illusionist please use the same formatting the other posters are using. Bold for title, speech; normal text for actions, descriptions; italics for out-of-character text. Most people do a descriptive post followed by an actual summary of what they're trying to achieve in OOC italics; stuff won't happen to you unless you start happening to stuff, and the italics OOC actions tell me how you're trying to interact with the game world.
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Sep 24, 2015 18:11
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DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:Moola please do something useful or nothing will happen to your scrunt and you'll get bored. i was really quite drunk 
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Sep 24, 2015 19:40
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lol
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Sep 24, 2015 21:09
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It is acceptable to scrunt while drunk.
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Sep 25, 2015 12:43
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Murdelia Skurvy Being useful As the humans break and flee into the night, Murdelia scrams angrily out of the scruntmera. The stupid guns were broken! Stupid technoscrunts! She stumps over to the piles of corpses laying about the farmyard in the hopes of finding something worth looting, before setting about tending to delicate scruntling's wounds and injuries. She notes the glowing, steaming semi-liquid wreck of the Hardchestnaught with some interest, and sends Arnika to guard it and stop any scrunts from touching it. ____________________________ Looting, then medicae on most injured first.
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Sep 27, 2015 07:32
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Grimply, just scrunting gently caress I forgot to leave time for a good scruuuunt and now I have to get some sleep My top priority is to wrangle scrunts because we need to leave and get everyone on board with that. I can also imagine a few words about the holy slam above will comfort those scrunts who have seen scrunts they know get killed. Looting a little is also on my list. Mostly trying to dig up more ammo for the longshot, since I still don't know what gear would be good for me. Those goggles mentioned in the game chat thread maybe?? Xp will be spent and updated as soon as I get to it. Sorry for neglecting my scrunt duties 
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Sep 27, 2015 22:38
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Drekk The Farm Malbrathia-3 Scruntin' Along Drekk was momentarily distracted by Barry clomping along in the Sentinel. He looks around briefly before focusing back on Grumb. "The names, Drekk. Drekk Drokk Rocket", he says, taking Grumb's hand and shaking it anyway. "You did some good shootin' back there, mate." The second best thing after a good fight is the looting. Drekk and Widget went around, prodding bodies, opening their bags, lookin' around. Most of the time they found odds and ends such as playing cards, rations, a book about some guy named Ciaphas Cain, and an Imperial Babes Swimsuit Calendar Vostroyan Edition among other things. Drekk needed some leg armor, though, and after searching corpses for about half an hour, he found some leg and boot armor from a dead sergeant. They're human sized and gently used, but they can be easily altered by a Technoscrunt with the right tools. Content, Drekk hoists the armor over his shoulder and heads back to the Scruntmera, whistling a jaunty tune. At the Scruntmera, Widget takes out the calendar and flips through it, trying to comprehend the scantily clad women wearing giant fur hats. "The feck is this sheeit?" he blurts out. Scrunts have different and very incredibly gross standards of beauty than humans. --- Again, there's not really much I want for possible loot, but leg armor would be nice.
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Sep 28, 2015 00:43
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Grug scruntin about the farm Grug waddles up to a nearby group of scrunts loitering in a pile of garbage, leaving a trail of lovely footprints, "Hurm, musta eaten sumthin not quite rotten in the sewer," he announces with a muffled sniffle, "HEY! You scrunts want some GUNS?! OF COURSE YA DO!" *hacks up a glob of flem*, "y'all need it if ya want ta get ta tha SLAM SECTOR". He waddles off towards the detritus of the battle, gesturing for the scrunts to follow, squeeling, "SLAM SECTOR! SLAM SECTOR!" puntuated by bouts of snorting, coughing and just once, pissing. try to get some scrunts organised to loot stuff for their own good, and get some stuff for myself - armour and something to help to see in the dark of the spooky tunnels
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Sep 28, 2015 22:07
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Murk The Farm, Remnants Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEr2O_q-vzs The remaining Severan squad dashes off into the night, unchallenged. The long-term ramifications of letting them get away remain to be seen; maybe the scrunts have realised that the well-coordinated Severan assault indicates they must have been being watched for at least a couple days, and the final squad won't have seen anything else particularly incriminating. Or maybe it's an attempt at clemency; an indication that if they're left well alone, they have no particular hostile intentions or bloodlust. Or maybe it's because the idiot hellfuckers have just realised there's a bunch of unclaimed stuff lying scattered around on the sodden asphalt and on cooling corpses, and they've all started fighting like wildcats over who gets what belt buckle and shell casing. Yurik drags his bleeding form over towards Grimply before glowing faintly and muttering distressingly behind him; the sniper's thousand-yard stare remains fixed. Catching sight of a small gaggle of technoscrunts watching him with wary blankness, he cajoles them into performing his radioactive-trail plan with surprisingly little resistance. Hack is delegated to go with them to ensure the technoscrunts don't get distracted; the Severan snipers presumably occupied by fleeing back to base camp, the limousine leaves with minimal fuss and returns about half an hour later, minus its boot. Such was Yurik's forcefulness in emphasising the importance of this task that the technoscrunts have gone all-out - realising that storing radioactive stuff in the boot of the limo will presumably make the boot itself radioactive, they've done the obvious thing and hacksawed it off. Groin meanwhile spends his time licking every inch of the new, stolen truck's frame with his moderately radioactive tongue. It takes time and effort, but he gets every inch eventually, mildly irradiating the chassis and providing an easy radioactive marker for anyone attempting to track the scrunts via auspex, meaning if the scrunts take this new truck with them they will completely undo Yurik's otherwise flawlessly-executed diversion. The psyscrunt's reaction, once he discovers this, remains to be seen. Other civilian scrunts dash around hither and yon through the increasing rain, grabbing stuff and hiding it under robes or tossing it into piles. Barry sits atop the Scruntinel cackling like a maniac, back to the cooling remains of the decaying Dreadnaught, keeping the scruntherd back from his chosen corner of the farm with great gouts of promethium. The odd slow scrunt is caught by the torrents of fire and incinerated, but no-one seems to mind too much; it adds incentive to get the looting over with quickly. Barry is having a great time, and doesn't notice the cooling remnants of Hardchest puddling together behind him like a platter of molten lead. Technoscrunts avoid the area, knowing that the pools of rainwater nearby, inches from the Scruntinel's feet, must be picking up a fair number of radioactive particles. They like their radiation to be short and sweet, not to mention green; none of this "slow release over a long period of time, greatly aiding anyone trying to trace you" malarkey. Arnika, standing nearby in solidarity with Barry, eyes the two pools with increasing concern, and keeps trying to catch the eye of one of the more important scrunts. Keen to get out of the rain, the Technoscrunts gruffle and grunt but continue to package up as much fuel as possible under the direction of Mung and his rats. They're reasonably certain they can get most of it into barrels and tanks and flasks and scrunts, but about a quarter of the total is in the big storage tank by the workshop gates. If the scrunts want to keep this fuel, it will probably have to either go back into the nuke-carrying storage tanker, greatly hampering attempts to interface with the warhead, or the tank itself will need to be carried somehow. Medical aid is proffered to those that request it; the scrunts disperse and begin looting akin to their strengths as a strange glazed look casts itself over Grimply's features and he begins clambering back up to the second floor of the ruined farmhouse. Grumb, battered and limping and nevertheless still carrying a gun larger than a motorcycle cheerfully and accidentally intimidates smaller scrunts into giving up their prizes; Grug tends to insinuate himself good-naturedly into small groups and distract them into overlooking stuff, using his natural vileness as a social crutch; Murdelia simply nicks already-claimed stuff under the guise of providing medical attention, and any complaints are brutally stifled by the chemical cosh. Mung has by this point a small posse of technoscrunts following him around, who shrilly hoot and honk at the sight of any lesser scrunt picking up anything faintly technological; Yurik basically stares oozily at anything papery, and it somehow finds itself in his hands. Flet attempts to scrounge up some stuff for him and Grimply, but his movements are somewhat hampered by the spherical crust of plastic that his limbs and head are currently poking out of. Drekk and Widget, bizarrely, go about things the old-fashioned way of systematically surveying the belongings of the fallen, and it's so novel and so conspicuously absent of infighting that nearby scrunts goggle as they pass, losing their chance to claim items they otherwise would have snaffled. Groin is busily licking the truck still, and Gumbo appears to have fallen asleep after all the excitement. Pirk has ransacked his box of cigars and is currently attempting to shove fistfuls of space-lho down the end of one. A remarkably fortuitous flash of lightning presently illuminates the farm.  Grimply has snapped out of his daze, and has things to communicate to the scruntherd at large. He speaks of the Scruntfather, and his plans for this group. He speaks of the Severans, who are many in number, large in stature, and strange in smell. He speaks of shelter, miles to the west, where scrunts can burrow and hide and do scrunt things, free from interference from larger, gangly things with necks. He speaks of terrifying metal monstrosities and their role in scrunt cosmology re: the punishment of sinners; he speaks of the definition of scrunt sin, the words "comin' ta getcha little feckers" and "don't follow me RIGHT NOW" being used in close conjunction. Using his rifle scope for emphasis, he points out particularly prominent scrunt patriarchs and matriarchs from the varying groups gawking up at him, and delegates responsibilities for the exodus to them ("GER YOUR LOT IN THA FACKIN CARS"). Bedlam, predictably, ensues. This is another scrunt skill challenge. You guys are going to be driving to the tunnel site in the driving rain in the dead of night, unless you feel like waiting for morning. You will have to corral the scrunts, find the best route, and succeed in the journey without losing dudes, materiel, or being attacked by roving genestealers or whatever. I want skill rolls from you for whatever you think will help with this; it's another "you have narrative control" bit, so if you think you want to do a straight Perception test to guard the rear of the convoy, give me that. If you think you want to do a Survival roll to find the route, give me that. If you want to use your reasonably good interaction bonus and focus on socially manipulating the scrunts to not be loving idiots, give me that (Command, Charm, Deceive, Intimidate, etc). If it's Operate to avoid a nasty ford, give me that. If it's another skill, give me that. Whatever you test is up to you. Whenever you test it (on the road, at the farm) is up to you. You've got creative control over the route you take, subject to veto (i.e. no treasure chests or massive game-changers like cities, greater daemons, etc.). The more creative your scenario, the easier your roll is. Dealing with issues specifically highlighted in this post (e.g. radioactivity, puddle of killer liquid metal) will result in bonuses. Total successes will be totted up against a target number that represents how loving stupid the scrunts manage to be ----------- Bonanza The Road Malbrathia-3 Once the convoy finally gets underway, the scrunts examine their newly-gotten gains... quote:
loot rules The "EITHER" options lock to the first scrunt to call them in the game thread. The items themselves don't lock to that scrunt, but if someone goes e.g. "we are taking the meltabombs" ITT then bombs it is. You can use this stuff at the farm too if desired, but Mung's not overheard any chatter on the commbeads because either they've switched frequency or are observing radio silence Also if anyone wants to use any of this stuff to try and fiddle with the =I= box, go nuts. I would suggest not using the iron eater grenades unless you fancy spending fate or losing the box. ---- scrunt so total priorities were p much as follows: yurik: escape plans first, looting/wrangling second mung: looting first, wrangling escape plans second grumb: looting first, wrangling escape plans second (via barry) groin: nothing grimply: wrangling escape plans first, looting second murdelia: looting first, medicae second drekk: looting first, tracking plans appear to have come to naught grug: looting first, loosely-based escape plans second (stuff for other scrunts) gumbo: nothing so, uh, the final squad escapes unchallenged, and you barely managed to get anyone mobilized, but at least you're sure you've not missed any of the good stuff. medical aid is on offer from Murdelia; it takes no narrative time as First Aid really is a full action. either do your own rolls or leave them for me, but you have to include it in your actions, you're not going to be stitched up without this and if you leave it until next combat it might be too late yurik gets the trail-leaving plan underway and nails it with a 06; i don't even care what skill that's against, it's happened. groin undoes his good work with a 40k-physics tongue. you can still take the machines and loot and poo poo out of this truck no problem, it's just if you take the truck itself you have one rad-trail going away from your destination, and one rad-trail going to it. this presumably makes you easier to track, half the time. barry and arnika guard the carcass of the 'naught and encourage scrunts to get looting. #2 is basically like encouraging rocks to roll downhill so no roll there. the living metal is cooling down in the rain and coalescing and might soon start to be a problem. also the puddles are probably radioactive and anyone who wants to know, can, by the simple expedient of asking/eavesdropping on an NPC technoscrunt. mung gets the fuel mostly loaded; what do you want to do re; the big fuel tank? it's too big for a single limo or the scruntinel; a makeshift trailer will be pretty easy and quick but will severely limit manoeuvrability of whatever's dragging it. if you take the tank of fuel, you will have an encouraging excess; if you leave it, you will have a comfortable amount people loot grimply communicates to everyone that maybe it would be a good idea to leave; it might be the middle of the night and raining (penalty) but the scrunts have just been attacked by a hissing metal demon and a load of guys with guns, so they're fairly on-board with the whole idea. they're still loving idiots, though, so everything goes to pot a bit. do the skill challenge. do what it says. do it. if you have questions please shout in the recruitment thread. as mentioned the more creative and descriptive your scenario the better. if you are crammed in a limo and lie to a bunch of worried scrunts that's just as good as using Logic to coordinate the movements of the entire convoy. it's really based on your creativity here not your specific action. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 23:04 on Oct 1, 2015 |
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Oct 1, 2015 20:57
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