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Murdelia Skurvy In the Tunnel of WHY IS IT ALL BLOOD 12/12 Reeling from the heart-pounding encounter wherein she brutalised a wild animal with a blunt object, Murdelia looks up to see a big fukkin dog creature slavering in front of her. And everything starts bleeding. She was already covered in blood, bone and other viscera from the other gods being disintegrated and pulverised, but this was, just, too much blood to come out of nowhere all of a sudden. WHY WAS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD? "Wot's wit' errythin' bleedin' like this now?" she shouts while blazing away at the big fukkin dog. ___________ Half-Action aim, then shooting the big fukkin dog with a Semi-Auto Burst on Overload setting. Aim+Semi-Burst Overload vs big dog: 1d100 36 Scrunt Surgical Laser (Basic / 100m / s/3/- / 1d10e+3 / pen 0 / clip 60 / reload Full / Reliable) > It is High Impact, meaning +2 damage if you aim. > It is Piercing, meaning it has Felling [2] at short range (it ignores some Unnatural Toughness) > It has Crippling ammunition; it has Crippling [2], meaning poo poo you shoot takes some damage if they do more than a half action a turn. > It has Heating Issues meaning it can overheat and hurt you/make you drop the gun if you roll 91+ to hit. > It has a Tiny hosed-Up Barrel, meaning -2 damage outside of short range.
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Jan 26, 2016 15:00
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Groin Sklunger !!! RAGE !!! "MAIM! KILL! FECK!" yells Groin through spits and drool, as he attack whatever is closest to him. _____ ALL OUT ATTACK!!!!!!!!
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Jan 26, 2016 22:27
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Grumb Slanger, on tilt Grumb doesn't even notice the blood oozing from every wall and crevice, his fragile mind already saturated with stimulation and anxiety. He snarls, whipping his head about and spraying spittle all over the nearby combatants. Howling, Grumb whacks at the alpha dogbeast with his monotruncheon, taking advantage of its momentary preoccupation with the raging Groin. "This some bullshit," Clive mutters from the cavern floor. --------------------------- All out attack on alpha dogbeast, to rescue my close friend Groin Sklunger. If the dogbeast is dead, all out attack on Groin Sklunger. Mono-truncheon - Melee, 1d10 I + Strength Bonus, pen2 WS 32 + 30 All Out Attack = 62. I roll a 12 for the attack and 11 (7+4) impact damage.
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Jan 27, 2016 17:13
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Grimply, Running out of Hisss puns Wounds: 3 Fate: 1/2 sry boys but my week has been super draining thus far so italics it is again Cutting the other mutant 48 vs 42 (32+10+10-10) 18 vs 42 (32+10+10-10) And then I'll use assassin strike to get out of melee and into the gross tunnels behind me where I'll probably slip and die from landing on a small rock 2 vs 27 (47 - 20) I'm the best????? Natural Weapon blades (1d10+SB R / tearing / mono / razor sharp) grimply receives +2 Unnatural Strength and +2 Unnatural Agility, along with the talents Step Aside, Two-Weapon Fighting: Melee, Ambidextrous, and Assassin's Strike. GM reminder that I'm very small, have a Camo Cloak and Synskin, and Photovisor googles(not used right now)
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Jan 27, 2016 22:30
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Yurik Scraglagger Dogpocalypse Now Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 11/12 Losing one's grip on the fabric of reality was a disconcerting experience even for someone like Yurik, whose command of the Warp was as much drunken groping and sheer luck as it was the artful mastery of mind over matter. Somewhere an invisible string went "twang" when it should have gone "twung" and by the time the Loremaster realized what had happened it was too late to prevent the Immaterium from bleeding into reality. Quite literally as the walls, floor, and ceiling of the cavern surrounding them began to bleed profusely, as though the entire twisting series of tunnels had become the arterial passageways of some colossal creature. This was the least of his problems however, as the oversized dograbbit continued to barrel towards him, heedless to the grotesque tableau oozing into being around it. Yurik shrieked and frantically backpedaled, kicking up a spray of freshly instantiated gore before slipping and landing heavily on his rear end. He threw his arms over his head and braced himself for the sensation of massive jaws snapping shut around his tender skin...only to risk a glance through his fingers when the grisly end he'd been anticipating seemed to be taking longer than expected. The creature loomed over him, whimpering in confusion as it stared at its paws. Whatever it was currently seeing in its mind's eye, it found it to be a more pressing matter than mauling Yurik which suited the Loremaster just fine thank you very much. Bravely rallying (though outside observers would more likely describe it as "shouting shrilly and thrashing around in a pool of blood") Yurik grabbed his thinkin' stick and proceeded to flail madly in the beast's general direction, which he planned to do until it was very, thoroughly, and quite unmistakably dead. *** All-Out Attack against the big stunned dograbbit. Yurik's base WS is 26, that's +20 for All-Out Attacking, then the dograbbit being stunned is a further +20 for an overall TN of 66 (how appropriate), not counting any size bonuses it might give for being a bigger than normal target. Yurik's stick does normal mono melee weapon damage, 1d10+3 Impact, Pen 2
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Jan 31, 2016 09:57
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Gumbo Bulge, in the dog melee 14/14 Wounds 2/2 Fate Gumbo et al mob the remaining dogbeast, and though things are very slippery all of a sudden, it's clear the animal doesn't really stand a chance against an organised and motivated Scrunt offensive Dimly aware there is still fighting going on elsewhere, he reaches for his bolt pistol, but remembers dropping it earlier whilst diving away from something. He peers about, it's harder to make out distinct shapes now that everything is blood coloured. "Now wher t'heck did ah drop tha gun? If big dogbeast is still in range & alive all out attack the dogbeast. WS 45 + 20 Double Team* +5 Chainsword +30 all out attack** = 100 If big dogbeast is dead at this point (seems likely), move north - don't run (toward Grimply) and ready Bolt pistol, putting chainsword away. *depending on other Scrunt positions
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Feb 2, 2016 11:23
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Hounded The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-waiKf73WI pictured: the surface, while all this is going on Groin... angry! Angry about things! Angry about dogs! Angry about limited roleplaying opportunities afforded by making use of the Frenzy talent in a slow-paced play-by-post environment! He swings at the stunned houndbeast in front of him with all of his might, skids slightly in the blood oozing out from every nearby surface, and succeeds in cracking one of its ribs. Drekk charges to Grimply's aid against the mutant currently bearing down on him. Unfortunately, the scrunt's boot skids as he rounds the corner, sending him into a cartwheeling, flailing dive. The swordscrunt skids to a halt at the fringe of the melee, both combatants trampling him in their furious dance of death. He struggles to get his arm under his shield. Grug squelches off away from the large dog, following in Drekk's wake. Turning the corner, he yees with surprise at the sight of a vile mutant thing fighting for its life against another vile mutant thing, and raises his gun in self-defence. Some scrunty instinct kicks in, and he squeezes off an expertly-timed shot that richochets off one of Grimply's armblades, and straight into the thigh of his assailant. The creature burbles in pain. Mung struggles to follow the roiling melee with his flamer, trying to find an opening to jet a torrent of flame at the huge dograbbit attacking his comrades, but it's tricky. If he felt like moving closer to narrow the arc of his weapon, he might just be able to do it, but as it stands, he's faced with the choice of either roasting Gumbo, or roasting all the other scrunts currently in melee. Tempting though it may be, he holds fire. The remaining Pack Alpha whines and whickers as it slobbers idiotically at its paws; Murdelia levels her makeshift club at it and, realising that it may be more deadly when used for its intended purpose, pumps a barrage of lasbolts into the creature's centre mass. At this range it is devastatingly effective - vast rents appear in the hound's flesh, and torrents of blood patter to the cavern floor to mix with the churn already present. Astonishingly, though, the beast still stands. Grumb, by contrast, has abandoned his gun entirely. Pants around his ankles, he bounds into melee and wields his truncheon with deadly effect. Strange muscles bulge as he whips his arm up and under and, somehow, manages to catch one of the seeping gashes opened up in the creature's flesh. Its foreleg snaps off, just below the shoulder, and the doghound sinks to the ground, lifeblood pumping out as in its last few moments it sees its hallucinogenic nightmares made manifest. The remaining mutant once again attempts to club Grimply with its stolen gun, but spins wildly and fruitlessly in the tunnel. The sniper takes the opportunity to deftly leap onto the mutant's back, slide an armblade gently into his heart, and gracefully lunge off and round the corner. The mutant gurgles and dies with little fanfare. Gumbo trots off away from the enormous corpse in front of him to retrieve his pistol; Yurik's staff thuds fruitlessly into the hound's carcass. It looks like it's all over bar the screaming...  final map! ---- The fight against these terrible beasts has been long and costly, but now the true test begins.  Groin does not seem to have realised the fight is over. He immediately swings for Yurik, who is lucky enough to skid backwards at just the right moment. Chaos descends as Groin attempts to murder his comrades, while the others try to make him snap out of his killing fugue... ----- Eventually, the frenzy subsides. The scrunts can continue to push on through the tunnels, should they see fit. Who knows what wonders or horrors they will discover? ----- scr_nt groin gives the dog a minor wound. more of a pat, really. drekk falls over. 1d10 to see in what fifth of the charge he collapses (1-2 1st, 3-4 2nd etc.), and he rolls a 9. so basically he's in melee but prone. he has done the move part of his Charge action but not the attack, due to, well, falling prone. grug hurts a mutant mung fails to appreciate the effort i put into these maps and doesn't bother moving the few steps required to actually get a clear shot at the mutant doghound. so he does nothing this round except overwatch. murdelia hits with three point-blank lasblasts at close range; due to the laser's special rules (Overload and High Impact), that's three shots at 1d10+7, pen2, or strictly better than a semi-auto burst from a plasma gun against anything but really armoured targets. sadly she rolls real bad for damage (2, 5, 3), so dog remains alive, barely grumb is too far away to all-out-attack, but a half-move and an attack does exactly the same thing with the dice you rolled so there you go. he kills the beast by smacking its foreleg off, somehow. fittingly, this is exactly what it was afraid of. gumbo and yurik don't do much of use. groin fails eight willpower checks in a row and continues fighting the party for eight rounds. his first swing misses Yurik, then he realises there's a dog still alive and goes to beat that to death. then he tries to kill you all, then wakes up. you lot can roleplay out the rest if you want. i'm not doing eight more rounds of Move Away From Groin. basically, you can look at stuff you've killed in more detail, or you can explore this little bit of cave (hint - there's probably not much of interest but you might find something), or you can do other stuff that you want to do, or you can push on and explore and maybe find out exactly what the loving deal with this pitchblack hound sanctuary is
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Feb 3, 2016 23:08
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Drekk The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 Winding Down Wounds: 6/12 Fate Points: 0/2 The beasts and the weird servitor things are finally. Drekk slipped and slided, but he's not terribly hurt. He gets himself up and wipes off as much of the blood that got on his clothes. "Not bad in a day's work..." he thinks to himself. "But 'ow long has it been since we first stepped into tha cave? His musings were interrupted by the sound of Groin's roaring out frenzied yees, fecks, and other scrunty swears that will make the human eardrum shart itself, and the sound of bones being broke. The noise eventually dies down. Drekk doesn't want to stick around though. He prods the mutant/cyborg/rogue servitor to make sure it's dead-dead, and he gets ready to press on. --- Half-action getting up, swap shield for photovisors, wait for the other scrunts to catch up.
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Feb 6, 2016 02:25
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Yurik Scraglagger Dogpocalypse Aftermath Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 11/12 Yurik only stopped flailing away at the dog-creature when his weedy arms no longer had the energy to do so, breathing heavily as his thinkin' stick thunked into its skull one last time with a desultory squelch. His trembling body, much like the rest of the cave, was covered in blood, but for the moment there didn't appear to be any further creatures ready to lunge out at them from the darkness. Until Groin Sklunger dove at him, frothing and gibbering. "What the...FACK! Gedoff gedoff gedoff!" Yurik thrashed and scrambled backwards, slipping and skidding in the arterial puddles beneath his feet as the operator pounced upon him, sending the pair of them tumbling backwards in a scrunty tangle of limbs and beards. Unable to get a purchase upon him Groin half-slid half-skittered away down a nearby tunnel, hissing like an angry badger, until he apparently found something else to occupy his frenzied attentions, the sounds of cracking bones and meaty thumps echoing throughout the caverns. Yurik lay there for a moment, attempting to get his breathing under control once more before slowly pulling himself to his feet...just in time for Groin to come charging back into the main cavern, still hooting and hollering, maddened murderlust still visible in his one good eye as he made a beeline for Yurik once more. "THAT'S FACKIN' ENOUGH!" the Loremaster bellowed, blood-soaked body crackling with sparks as he slammed the end of his thinkin' stick upon the ground. Scrunts may be scrunts, but the ire of even a tiny, hosed-up psyker was a terrible thing to behold. The simmering resentment that had been building within him ever since the incident back at the farm came to a boil as Groin once again proved himself unable to calm his poo poo down. Maybe it was some lingering damage inflicted by Yurik's entirely scientifical and loremastery studies of the EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG that had lodged in Groin's brain, or perhaps Groin was simply kind of an uncontrollable idiot, but Yurik was far too bedraggled and blood-soaked to care at the moment. "Down!," he shouted sharply, his gnarled hand gripping something invisible, and Groin's legs shot out from underneath him. "Hjhjfgslajlajdldal!?," was the operator's confused reply as he scrambled back to his feet, shaking his head before lunging again... "Sit!" "HUWhwhdwkbadwjdyal!?" "Heel!" "Ppwojebrsbdabdkadll!?" "Play dead!" "UYeuisydjaauigradll!?!?!?" *** Yurik is currently making Groin fall over repeatedly until his mania wears off. I'm handling this entirely through ~forging the narrative~ since I'm pretty sure neither schlong or Moola really want to do eight more combat rounds, but Moola is free to have Groin turn the tables in suitable amusing fashion should he wish.
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Feb 6, 2016 23:01
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Dog Tired The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 Drekk pokes at the mutant humanoids as the other scrunts pull themselves together, chitter distressingly, skid around in the blood, or beat things to death with their cybernetic arms. They definitely look dead. They also look absolutely revolting. One of them's clutching the autogun that was conspicuously missing from the servitor slumped earlier in the tunnels; the other has some sort of curious arquebus in-hand, complete with charges and a large pouch of irregular, painstakingly hewn stone balls. Black powder - that indicates intelligence. Perhaps these were creatures that lived, and loved, and led a life less ordinary - perhaps they had hopes, dreams, plans for a future, until they were rudely dashed by an invasion of scrunts. Who fuckin' cares, they're dead now. If they wanted a future they wouldn't be dead. Stands to reason. Still, they really do look pretty vile. Given the hosed-up nature of the weird polymorphic dogs, it's probably safe to say these guys have the same sort of "looks really revolting but different to each observer" problem the wolfrabbits have. This would be easily proved if someone else could come and help him. In the meantime... they're wearing really weird jumpsuits. They look like the sort of clothing normally forced on penal legionnaire units, but with strange zips and restraining points. Drekk's mind works overtime as he considers the implications. Penal unit... strange medical uniforms... were they from a... medical penal unit? Meanwhile, the Grimply-mantis chitters to itself on the cavern roof, magboots locked in place. Normally EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG wears off after combat; this dose seems to be lasting a little longer. Maybe it's to do with Grimply's smaller stature; maybe it was just a good batch, cut with a little less rat poison than usual. In any event, the xenoscrunt thinks vaguely of capturing prey, and suffers confusing visions of nubile young scruntmamas ripping his head off. ------ miniscrunt Drekk pokes at the humanoid corpses. one of them has an autogun hacked off the servitor from earlier, the other has what is essentially a laslock with the Concussive quality. on examination it will be discovered to fire little balls of slamite. common lore Imperial Guard indicates they wear penal regiment uniforms Grimply will be a mantis for the next ten minutes narrative time
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Feb 6, 2016 23:52
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Drekk The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 Thinkin' Cap Wounds: 6/12 Fate Points: 0/2 "Penal regiment..." Drekk ponders.... "Penal soldiers, dogthings...Are they working together?" Normally his mind is "Smash first, think later", but he's oddly intrigued, tapping a reserve of basic Imperial Guard knowledge. He picks up the odd-looking gun and the ball of little stones. They can make things, and there may be more of them up ahead. Is there a base? Who knows. He takes the gun and the ammo, maybe another scrunt can figure it out. "Grimply!" he yells. "Come take a look at this!" he yells out to the mantidscrunt. While waiting for a response, Drekk is rifling their jumpsuits, maybe they have ID's, papers, or booklets of some sort. --- If possible, Drekk is going to loot the laslock plus the bag of Slamite balls, maybe a Smartyscrunt can help unlock their secrets and maybe get some use out of them. Also rolling to get ID's/booklets/whatever information as well.
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Feb 7, 2016 00:31
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Dog Gone The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 Drekk continues to examine the corpses. They have no identifying papers on them, although perhaps this is not that surprising. Most prisoners don't tend to carry their documents around with them. There's a chance there could be some stuff lying around this cave they appear to dwell in, although assuming they are prisoners, this does rely on them scrupulously looting their records office before fleeing into the hills. Perhaps this is asking too much of them; perhaps they are penal legionnaires with a passion for paperwork, and it is not. Their uniforms do have ID numbers stitched into them, as befits ex-guardsmen. Drekk can't quite figure out the schema, though; perhaps someone with more experience of the guard could help, or perhaps someone with a medical background. Or perhaps it's just from a weird backwater regiment on this weird backwater world. --- slamite arquebus has been looted basic / 70m / s/-/- / 1d10+4I / pen0 / clip1 / unreliable, Concussive comes with 15 rounds. extra rounds can be chipped out of a slamite vein at the rate of 3/hour. this is a really boring task that needs scrunts to be convinced to do it
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Feb 7, 2016 00:44
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Murdelia Skurvy In the Tunnel of SCRUNT VICTORY Murdelia grunts appreciatively as all the foes of scrunts are torn asunder. The brief moment of satisfaction is lost as Groin rampages through the tunnels, hooting and slavering exactly like the stereotypes told about malformed abhumans that he so closely resembles. Fortunately the creepy little nerd is on the case and manages to contain the 'situation'. Realising that this is a prime opportunity to grab things, she sets about gathering up samples of the various beasts and critters for later experimentation and/or eating. Bits of meat from the doggies large and small, some blood from an untouched patch of wall-blood, and even some weird fleshy stuff from the 'orrible mutant things, it all goes into different lunch bags and empty tupperware containers. Naturally she doesn't touch the gross mutie things directly, she pokes and jabs away with tools before scraping the samples up, keeping it all at arm's length. Probably worth getting a flamer to burn all the residue off, too. While she's digging away at them she tries to get a good look at their uniforms and gear, not that that's much to go by. She spots Grimply-Thing kreeing softly from the ceiling and makes a note to investigate that EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG sooner or later. _____________________________ Murdelia will take samples of all the interesting and tasty creatures and psychic phenomena encountered. Getting the mutant things done carefully will take a while so she can look at their uniforms and gear and scruntinise them as well.
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Feb 7, 2016 01:03
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Mungly Mung Scruntcave It didn't take very long after the fight for the adrenaline to wash out of Mung's system and for him to swing from his murderous manic state to a dour depressive state in only a handful of minutes. He shook his flamer briefly to gauge how much fuel was left in it before stowing it under his robes, leaving the nozzle to trickle a few drops of promethium behind him as he walked. He doubles back toward the first dograbbit alpha, the still burning corpse providing enough light for him to see by as he walks on by. He comes around the corner and finds the mutant corpses and a mantiscrunt hanging from the ceiling above the bodies. The techscrunt figured leave just as well along with the mantis since it doesn't seem aggressive to the other scrunts all the while being no less flatulent. The scrunt shuffles solemnly over to the mutants and upon seeing the autogun pries it from the still warm body of the mutant. He notes the brace of slamite bullets disappearing into Drekk's backpack and makes a mental note to work on his own development of slamite ammunition. For the time being however, he takes his looted gun and his collected assortment of other servitor parts and silently rejoins the others. barely nodding to anyone who would ask him a question. --- Sorry, I intended to post earlier, but I kind of fell into an Xcom 2 hole over the weekend. Going to go ahead and steal the Mutant's gun and add it to my collection of servitor parts from before. I may use these as a justification for my alternate career path come the 2500 exp mark and switch to the techpriest alternate career that gives me gun servitors. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 21:05 on Feb 8, 2016 |
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Feb 8, 2016 19:23
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whoa, he has a heavy stubber? poo poo, he probably should have been using that instead of his autogun
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Feb 8, 2016 19:56
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Don't post while hosed up on sleep deprivation. Fixing my post.
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Feb 8, 2016 21:04
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Gumbo Bulge, 14/14 Wounds 2/2 Fate Stood in a puddle of thick red blood Gumbo peers up at the thing on the ceiling, the sound of steel grinding softly in the back of his head. He shudders. Grimply's transformation was the most dramatic yet, he hopes it will wear off soon, like the others. There's something real weird about these drugs, about this whole planet. His boot makes a sucking sound as he lifts it from the blood puddle. Something weird about this blood too. Where did it come from? Gumbo has seen his fair share of dog disembowelings and its never been quite this messy. It doesn't seem like the dogbeasts could contain quite so much goop. Further down the tunnel Drekk is hollering about something. Gumbo is pleased by the distraction "Wocha lookin at there Drekk?" he grunts, then squats over a mutant body, picking at the uniform. "Penas legion" he murmurs. Hopefully Scholastic Lore Tactics will include some information on penal regiments and their IDs
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Feb 9, 2016 12:41
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Dog's Age The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 Between them, Gumbo and Murdelia puzzle over the weird mutant corpses. They swiftly establish that, as with the dogs, neither of them are seeing the same picture - where one sees pustules the other sees scabs, and one scrunt's toothsome maw is another's messed-up proboscis. Whatever's happened to the dog-rabbits, seems to have happened to these guys as well. Coupled with the penal regiment uniforms, it seems safe to reckon that under all the mental CGI, these "mutants" are actually just regular humans. Or, well, they may have been. Their ID scheme seems to place them as part of a "special projects" taskforce, a "do whatever the gently caress you want to these guys" designation - essentially, accountability for their lives has been waived. Normally these sorts of divisions are under considerable scrutiny for fairly obvious reasons. The concept of escapees is peculiar, to say the least. Thinking back to the comedy-drama holotapes he's viewed in the past, Gumbo considers this roughly analogous to people escaping from that fortified camp called "Oww-Shwitz" and no-one coming after them. Maybe their designation was a local decision back when the planet was still Imperial, and it hasn't filtered through the Administratum yet - maybe had something on this planet they were trying to hide. Playing detective in the rapidly-clotting blood can only get a scrunt so far, though. Either these weird mutant-looking things found that exit tunnel and tramped all the way up here following the same route as the scrunts, or they came from the north.  Maybe it's time to push on. ---- tasteful. post, assholes. maybe you want to move, maybe you want to make blood angels. erm, like snow angels, not like... yeah
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Feb 9, 2016 16:52
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Grumb Slanger, past his breaking point Grumb pants heavily, clutching his monotruncheon tightly in his whitening knuckles as he shifts his gaze nervously from hosed-up-dog-corpse to hosed-up-dog-corpse. Each of them lies motionless, some riddled with holes and others crushed to mealy bits on the cavern floor. The corpses have become completely saturated with blood, matted fur making a disconcerting squish as Grumb pokes one with his truncheon. A whimpering groan emerges uninvited from Grumb's throat as he spots Grimply's thoroughly mantified form crawling about on the ceiling. Why isn't anyone else concerned with this?? Grumb wonders, backing away slowly from the pointy hissing beast. Just then, he trips over the disembodied foot of the alpha dogbeast, sending him tumbling to the cavern floor. He bashes his head on a hard boxy object, briefly disjointing his vision as he scrambles to right himself. He grabs at the object, blood dripping down his cybershades as he strangles the assailant with all of his might. He opens one eye, and realizes he's holding the now-silent Clive. Grumb falls to his knees in the corner, clutching his autocannon fearfully as he rocks back and forth in a puddle of blood and piss. He cries. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 23:05 on Feb 9, 2016 |
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Feb 9, 2016 23:00
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Grug The very definition of nochalance Happy Grug, the little voice inside his meaty head comes to the fore with almost as much alacrity as the dying din of battle. He splashes back down the tunnels, seemingly unperturbed by the coagulating blood, happily greeting the other scrunts, checking on their well being and ignoring their responses, assuming all is well. That is, until he hears Grumb seemingly talking to himself between whimpering and stroking his rather large ahem weapon, "hey old buddy, what's up?" Grumb lets out a little blub, "oh don't mind all this," he gestures vaguely at, well, everything, "the Slam Sector's got to be down here somewhere, lets go look. Everything will be alright buddy!" He helps Grumb to his feet, who appears to the oblivious to the intimate proximity to a particularly repellent Scrunt."Lets get a move on," he says, encouraging the forlorn gunner forward, "maybe we'll find some more doggies and we can make friends this time!". gotta go deep
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Feb 10, 2016 00:17
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Grumb Slanger, tunnel puddle Grumb stands wobbily, eyeing the strange scrunt from ranger hat to hosed up multilaser as a faint smile appears on his face. "Y.. yeah. Dangol, slem sector. S'gon' be great..." He clasps the gore-spattered flashlight in his mouth as they walk on, tying his rapidly clotting pants back about his waist. "Whooga fegga yoo?"
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Feb 12, 2016 00:55
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Grug idiot At the question, Grug takes on a puzzled look for a good few minutes before resolving his face into his usual idiot grin, "you musta taken a good knock to the old noggin there, don't you remember..." he regales his recent adventures, from meeting other scrunts for the first time on the transport ship, getting separated from his group after the drop to crawling through the sewers and emerging into the aftermath of the battle at the farm, except now Grumb is with him all the way through; the story is told as though they've always been stalwart companions happily bumbling through harmless adventures. Between his combat trauma and this scrunt who, while cheerful, obviously has a tenuous grasp on reality, Grumb just grunts, smiles and nods, happy to be dragged along. It's better than sitting in a puddle of coagulating blood surrounded by the entrails of hosed up dogs.
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Feb 12, 2016 23:55
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Grumb Slanger, experiencing a narrative flashback Yes, yes, this all sounds right to Grumb Slanger. It's funny, he had just been thinking that he could have sworn there was somebody he'd been hanging out with this whole time. How silly of him, thinking it had been Clive! Grumb chuckled to himself. How silly of him. Grumb walks happily with his old new friend, laughing and sharing memories as they advance further into the tunnel complex. Something in the back of Grumb's mind didn't feel right, but the feeling was fading by the minute. "Say, do you remember that other gun-fellow? Krem-something? Boy, whatta guy he was." Grumb thinks back on the many adventures he had enjoyed since landing on Malbrathia-3, from the ambush to his cliff diving scenario, the Jeeb-stealer and the Bloodball field. "Say, Grug, d'i ever teach you 'owta play Bloodball?" --------------------------------- As we advance, Grumb is attempting an untrained Survival roll to scavenge suitable blood ball material from the corpses. Pelts, stomachs, et al. Grumb doesn't know how to sew, but he's sure he knows someone who does. 24 vs Perception 34 for the survival check. Grumb Slanger owes a favor to Grug. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 19:06 on Feb 13, 2016 |
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Feb 13, 2016 19:02
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Murdelia Skurvy In the Tunnel of SCRUNT VICTORY Murdelia frowns intently at the mauled corpses as the stink of blood and gore permeates the tunnels. Yep, definitely a dead human, or human-like critter. Wearing a military uniform no less. But how were they living in the same tunnels as these doggies? She waves a limb at the further tunnels as yet unexplored. "There's prob'ly good stuff further in, y'see. Mebbe treasure. Or dog food." she says hopefully. ___________________ Murdelia peers scruntily at the northern tunnels, and wants to continue exploration in that direction.
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Feb 14, 2016 02:00
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Grimply, Craves hisssstamin Wounds: 3 Fate: 1/2 Since all the commotion died down, the mantis is content to wait and observe for now. It notices that it has sustained a wound, but pain is a negligible feeling when hunger is much more pressing. It had some bites here and there, but not enough to satisfy its appetite. The corpses around could serve as a meal, but a mantis is much more interested in eating things that move and twitch. There are still other fleshy creatures around, and while the mantis sfor some reason feels that it shouldn't eat them, the hunger may proove stronger. It rubs its claws in thought... "Chitter" Just hanging out since that's pretty much all I can do
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Feb 14, 2016 21:33
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Mungly Mung Tunnel Scrunts Mung shuffles through ankle deep rock blood to rejoin the others. At the mention of potential dog food, he nods in agreement, adding "I think I biffed on cookin' dinner anyway." before pointing to the still flaming alpha dograbbit. "Les'n you lot like eatin rock blood and ash, I'ma be lookin for the consolation prize." --- Joining Murdellia in the norther exploration.
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Feb 15, 2016 03:36
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Procession The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gv9eF2qNhiQ&t=28s Slowly, the initial excitement (and structure) of combat over, the scrunts begin to filter off to the north. Hanging around in the dark, fiddling around in the blood, the mind starts playing tricks on itself. The events of the past few minutes have been fairly disturbing, and some of the party seem in danger of sinking into that state of ennui that occasionally claims scrunt lives. The carcasses of the mutants hold little in the way of value - a few pathetic keepsakes, scraps of fabric, and sharpened rocks. Disturbingly, one of them has a pendant keepsake depicting its spouse - it's impossible to tell which of the grim, unsmiling couple it once was, but it's an unpleasant indication of what the now-decomposing creature used to be. The rest of the cave turns up little in the way of interest except a curious incandescent, iridescent fungus growing in patches on the walls. Samples could easily be taken by interested scrunts, assuming they don't mind running the risk of toxic spores. Given that crude bedrolls appear to have been erected near them, the risk is probably quite low.  full cave map!! Yurik, on consideration, realises that there's very, very little chance of such a weird cave formation being natural, but again, he can detect no toolmarks or other indications of the tunnel being machined. Shrugging, he joins the rest of the scrunts as they trudge north. A few of them attempt to raise the idiots back at camp, but manage only static. It's only been a few minutes since they checked in - things are probably fine. --- Discovery The Base Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwR5q4XyMbk The scrunts travel northwards for a while. After ten minutes or so, the tunnel begins to dip downwards again, first slowly and then deeper and deeper. They are saved from having to hammer pitons and crampons into slamite by the appearance of another door, again set inexplicably in the side of the tunnel. Also inexplicably, this one is hanging off its hinges, evidently blown out by some powerful explosive charge. Maybe the dogbeasts ascended from the depths, scuttling on the ceiling like - well, like Grimply was up until a few seconds ago when the drugs finally wore off. He is bruised but unharmed, and is probably on the lookout for a new pair of gloves. Or perhaps they came from this opening, and they have a hitherto unseen knack for explosives. A cursory poke of the head around the door reveals that behind it, is a large liftshaft with - amazingly - working lights!  Eyes squinting in the gleam, the scrunts continue... --- Jackpot The Base Malbrathia-3 What the hell is this place?  The shaft descends twenty, thirty metres into what seems like a crudely-hewn staging area. Imperial iconography and obliterated servitors, alongside the telltale scorchmarks of massive explosions, dot the cavern. Blocked tunnels - man-made tunnels, made of rockcrete as opposed to slamite - fork off to the left and right, but the central tunnel appears to still be perfectly sound. And it leads...  ...somewhere wonderful. The main elevator shaft appears to be blocked with debris and wreckage. Nothing insurmountable, but definitely beyond the ability of the party to deal with right now. What looks to be a tap into the central mainframe is positioned conveniently near the funicular, but in its current locked-down state it would be hellishly difficult to get anything of use out of. There's a couple of corridors leading off from this bit, but the only ones not blocked by wreckage are full of sealed, locked-down bulkhead doors. Only two of them appear open - one of them leads into a large, empty, scorched room, apparently stripped of anything that could conceivably be of value to anyone. The other is wedged open by a tangled thicket of girders, rubble and the like, and, because the door is wedged open, it looks like its corresponding airlock door will refuse to open. This has presumably made the techpriest, currently gesticulating frantically at you through the video-intercom, very frustrated. --- scrant fast forward, fuckers. all aboard the railroad, choo choooooo Yurik passes scholastic whatever the gently caress to be reminded that yep, this tunnel's all kinds of weird. the scrunts find a base. you basically crept in through the fire escape. desperate times means the railroad express is still yet to pull into station and the base is almost entirely off-limits to you; you can either let the techpriest out and, with his help, remove the base from lockdown, or you can narratively kill him, take his codes, and remove the base from lockdown. after doing either of these things, the base will be yours to explore, improve and adapt as befits your agenda. there will be vehicular surface access so you can summon the scrunts that way - you just don't have it yet. the techpriest is guest-played by Leperflesh. please feel free to ask him questions like "how did you get in here", "what the hell's going on", and "seriously what the gently caress dude what's with these dogs". he is pleased to see you. you can just ask questions, you don't necessarily need to do a skill roll, but he is an NPC with his own agenda so if you want to do skill rolls it might be handy. he may occasionally ask you to roll scrutiny or other skill rolls (e.g. Tech-Use to communicate in binary cant) i have been intentionally incredibly vague in describing the base so far, but please feel free to give me your character's take on things. i will eventually do some sort of map Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 22:36 on Feb 15, 2016 |
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Feb 15, 2016 22:31
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A Servitor The Base Malbrathia-3 A bulbous, low-rez monitor with a prominent jagged crack running its width projects from the corroded steel bulkhead of a massive slab of an Imperial industrial intercom station. On the screen, the scrunts can make out the gesticulating form of a - man? A human, anyway, at least if the bald head and skinny neck can be relied upon as evidence - festooned with a writhing halo of biomechanics. At least a dozen fine multijointed steel arms originate from a rear locus roughly centered between its shoulders - at their tips wave a variety of fine manipulators, revolving syringe autoinjectors, probes, scalpels, suction tubes, clusters of tiny lights, and other less identifiable objects. Its scalp has been mostly replaced with a hood composed of exposed circuitry and hundreds of tiny tubules, a few of them transparent enough to show the bubbling flows of various viscous fluids in and out of his brain cavity. The waving servitor is staring vaguely downward at something off-screen, its lips peeled back in a toothy rictus that, if one felt extremely charitable, might be mistaken for an excited grin. With a sudden loud burst of static, a speaker bursts to live from its grilled housing above the monitor. KHKHKHKHKIFEFORMS! ATTENTION LIFEFORMS! KINDLY APPROACH THE INTERCOM! The servitor looks up, making "eye contact" with the camera presumably focused on its upper torso.
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Feb 16, 2016 05:49
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Yurik Scraglagger The Descent Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 11/12 Eventually even the most spiteful scrunt can grow bored, and Yurik was definitely a scrunt full of spite, but so it was that after psychically taking Groin's legs out from underneath him three or four dozen times, leaving a trail of Groin-shaped blood angels slapped into the cavern floor like some extremely heretical form of abstract art, the Loremaster finally relented once it seemed clear that the operator had finally worked his way down from indiscriminate madness back to his typical state of semi-coherent normality. Perhaps he had slammed him to the ground a few times even after that. Just to make sure. But as enticing as the prospect of farting around all day in a blood-slicked cavern full of bizarre, mutated corpses was, which is to say not very, Yurik had better things to do with his time which by extension meant the rest of the scrunts did as well. Fortunately there was no need to argue this point loudly and at length since they all seemed to be in agreement, and so they squelched their way further into the caverns after stopping to retrieve their various bits and bobs and reusable trip-mines (handy little device, that). Cleaning the surface of his glowglobe proved a fruitless task since there currently wasn't any part of his robes or his body which wasn't coated with blood and the light it cast along the slamite cavern walls was similarly crimson-tinged, lending things a sinister air. He paused by the mutated corpses that Murdelia and Gumbo were examining, briefly conferring with the two of them. More subjective uglification, this time on humies. Was it a contagion of some sort? His knowledge of diseases and maladies was, like much of his knowledge, eclectic and far-flung, but he couldn't conjure up any recollection of a disease that caused these sorts of symptoms. Mutations could do practically anything but mutations tended to be as fickle as the Warp that spawned much of them, and again he'd never heard of a mutation that spread in this fashion. Something was definitely up with this planet. Bearing this in mind he declined to take samples of the glowing fungus lining the walls on the off chance that it was responsible. Once they'd wrangled the rest of the scruntherd from wherever they'd inevitably hosed off to he could have one of them gather specimens for study, or possibly fermentation. He made mental notes of various points of interest as they wandered further down the caverns, an eidetic map etching itself upon his brain. More evidence that there was something suspicious about this planet (beyond the roving puddles of liquid metal and acoustic-amplifying ore deposits) could be found in the way the caverns themselves were formed, though only a scrunt with as finely honed a knowledge of planetary geology as himself would likely have noticed. Not that he could tell what might have caused such a thing, but the evidence was (sort of) clear. What also wasn't natural was the liftshaft. The tunnels had continued descending further and further almost to the point where Yurik had been about to suggest they turn back and look for another way to go, but when they emerged into the comforting glow of artificial lighting and rockcrete platforms his insatiable thirst for knowledge, as well as the innate scruntly desire to mess around with other peoples' stuff, would no sooner allow him to turn back than he could part Grumb Slanger from that oversized gun he kept cradling. "Well, c'mon! What're you lot waitin' for?," he said to whichever scrunts might be eyeing the unexpected lift with paranoid suspicion or who simply weren't moving fast enough for his tastes. "I told ya' there was somethin' down here worth exploring. Mebbe there's guns or drugs or somethin' good to eat that ain't all burned to shite 'cuz someone blew up our last base. Mebbe there's treasure." These various prospects were enough to entice even the most paranoid of scrunts (Groin) into cramming onto the lift platform. Yurik kept a recently untransformed and disoriented Grimply from being crowded with a few jabs with his thinkin' stick before throwing the switch and sending the lift plunging down deeper into the cavern...and when it finally ground to a halt at the bottom of the shaft, Yurik had to admit that he'd even managed to outdo his own expectations. A base! An actual base, not a run-down, Genestealer-infested farm. Imperial judging by the iconography (skulls accented with more skulls, along with skulls). Some kind of military staging outpost? It was certainly a remote one if so, but even that hadn't saved it from having the poo poo bombed out of it going by the scorchmarks lining the walls, not to mention the collapsed tunnels. Deep beneath the planet's surface, without an ablative layer of scrunts to surround himself with, Yurik was acutely aware that this would be a terrible place to die. Still, they'd come this far and hadn't been eaten or exploded, and his unscrunly lust for knowledge couldn't be denied. This was a proper mystery, and provided there was nothing waiting in the wings to devour or detonate them this could very well be the start of a Slam Sector to call their own. The cave-ins made choosing a direction a simple matter, and it wasn't until they arrived at another elevator shaft leading even further down (how deep did this complex run?) that they were confronted with something approximating choice. He pecked experimentally at the keyboard on a nearby data terminal, grumbling as it blatted at him uncooperatively. Cogitators, bah. Technoscrunt work. There were more tunnels, most of them collapsed and blocked off but a couple were still open. One led to an empty room that appeared to have been ransacked ahead of them and the other...well now, this was interesting. Someone had left a humie behind. A technohumie judging by the extensive (some might say excessive) cybernetics, Scruntfather only knew how long he'd been stuck down here. Now Yurik was, like most scrunts, generally xenophobic as a rule. Humies were deceitful, conniving, and far too tall for their own good, their only saving grace being edibility. But Yurik also knew that humies had knowledge and could, at times, be prodded into providing a canny scrunt with assistance until such time as one party inevitably betrayed the other. And right now they were in possession of something the humie on the far side of the airlock door wanted very much, namely access to the facility's controls. Maybe Mung could get things working again, maybe he couldn't, but as far as the humie was concerned Yurik and the other scrunts were his best hope of seeing something other than the same four walls for the rest of his life, which lent them something of a strong bargaining position to work with. Also if he was being honest, this particular humie didn't look very appetizing anyway. Still, first impressions were important. Straightening himself out, adjusting his thinkin' cap, and smoothing his blood-saturated robes, Yurik squelched over to the intercom panel and jabbed the transmit button with the end of his thinkin' stick before clearing his throat. "An' who," he said in scrunt-accented but mostly intelligible Gothic, "the fack are you?" *** Hello Leperflesh do not be afraid, we are here to
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Feb 16, 2016 07:50
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Drekk The Base Malbrathia-3 Wounds: 6/12 Fate Points: 0/2 It's been a very long day: Dogthings and mutants were fought, and the scrunts succeeded. After lingering for a bit, the group moved on and found something beautiful :An abandoned Imperial base. It's safe and underground, a comfy place for scrunts to live in. This is the scrunt equivalent of a mansion back in a prestigious district of ancient Terra called "The Hills of Beverly", which was in an old state called "Kaleefornya". Drekk recalled watching a holovid about how a dreadful fire dragon destroyed the place before being killed by the Emperor. Was it the truth? Was it Imperial propaganda? Who knows. While scrunts don't have the best knack for interior decoration, Drekk walked around, thinking to himself where what should be. A pub there, a fightin' ring there... He thinks to himself, but he sees something that makes him giddy: A thick door with ARMOURY written on it, in simple stencil writing. This means weapons! Drekk tries opening the door, but it's locked shut. He gives up before noticing Yurik fiddling with a talky-box and a screen. He's talking to a weird-looking robot man. Drekk pushes the button and says "'I'd like a Groxburger wif extra cheese and some Groxfries." After an awkward pause. Drekk realizes this isn't Burger Emperor. "Let's start ova!" he says. "I'm Drekk, 'ow can I 'elp ya?" --- Diplomacy.
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Feb 16, 2016 13:44
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Groin Sklunger The Tunnel of Bloodily Love Groin awoke confused, disorientated, covered in blood, and with a huge throbbing He had vague visions of vile dog creatures, and a horrible miniature cackling clown that made him do painful things to himself. He dismissed them as a dream. He sat up slowly, the blood began to slowly goop down his body. Looking around he couldn't see any of his scruntpatriots (scrunt compatriots), but he could hear faint "yees" "fecks" and general foul language echoing deeper into the cave; instinctively, he brought a handful of the blood up to his face, peered at it, took a long sniff and finally gave his blood covered hand one looooong big lickwith his entire tongue. Groin began smacking his lips together as he tasted the blood. _____ Groin has woken up, is a little behind everyone else, and inspecting the blood in how it looks, smells and tastes. In great detail.
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Feb 17, 2016 22:14
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A Servitor The Base Malbrathia-3 As Yurik and then Drekk approach the intercom and come into view of its cameras, the figure on the cracked screen visibly reacts with a mix of surprise and shock for a brief moment, before quickly regaining composure. For a long moment it hesitates, before responding. "You are scrunts!" it states, not accusatorily as a scrunt might be accustomed to from humie interactions, but more in the manner that Yurik might announce that he has identified a particular scrap of paper as being a map. "Abhuman designation 48-alpha-3, provisional, semi-sanctioned restricted class 2. Remarkable." There is another brief pause, as the halo of mechanical arms behind the servitor twitch with uncertainty. "Greetings, scrunt, and other scrunt designated 'Drekk'. I am designated Usurbius-1738, but for ease of converse you may call me 'Surb'. I am but a lowly Servitor, abandoned within this fortress due to an unfortunate series of oversights. If I might direct your attention to the open airlock: the debris blocking the outer door has trapped me within this laboratory. If you could kindly find a means to remove the debris, thus freeing me from confinement, perhaps I can be of service to you in exchange?" Leaving it to DJF to make rolls as appropriate for Diplomacy etc., but the servitor seems at least superficially friendly enough from the outset, if perhaps a little anxious as well.
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Feb 17, 2016 22:34
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Red Tide The Tunnels Malbrathia-3 Groin licks the filthy, bloody cave floor like he needs it to live. The blood is thick, red and irony. Tastes like groxblood, weirdly. Probably would make good sausage. It gives every indication of being here to stay. ---- A Civil Conversation The Base Malbrathia-3 Scrunts huddle around the intercom monitor, peering owlishly into the camera and investigating the strange hodge-podge of flesh and metal asking them to shift a few girders. ----- so usual spoiler rules apply - Leperflesh ain't a player and is allowed to read all spoilers, scrunts must only look at stuff next to their name or be branded Metagamers. i'll know. Yurik - sees nothing amiss, placeholder placeholder placeholder but placeholder placeholder placeholder placeholder placeholder placeholder Murdelia - stop reading this, Moola Drekk - from what you vaguely know about the Imperial Guard, and their use of servitors in combat and maintenance... they're not normally this talkative. you think, anyway. they definitely don't have emotions Grumb - you may not have any scrutiny or tech skills trained but with a ridiculously good roll you know this is a techpriest and not a servitor and also you really could do with a change of trousers Grimply - man, these rocket launchers are heavy. you detect nothing of note Mung - you're drat sure that's too emotive to be a servitor, but then... you have heard Forbidden Lore of incredibly advanced servitors, built to mimic the human form... Gumbo - this is a techpriest, not a servitor Grug - scrutiny check passed with some DoS, so you can tell this is a techpriest, not a servitor, and he's non-aggressive Groin isn't here yet. maybe he could have some stupidly good rolls too
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Feb 18, 2016 00:11
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Groin Sklunger Blood Tunnel Groin finds the blood agreeable. He decides to empty out his canteen, which was filled with drinking fluid that begins to fizz and bubble as it immediately begins to eat through the rock as it hits the ground. He hurriedly fills the canteen with blood, along with any other container he has on him. Groin then quickly slips and slides his way toward the rest of the gang. _______ Taking blood, and running to catch up!
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Feb 18, 2016 00:32
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Mungly Mung The Base Mung didn't really know what to think about the strange metal man, but he did know one thing for sure: "Ach, there ain't enough meat left on them bones to make a proper scruntmeal. Last time I tried ta eat boiled metal it gave me bloody shits fer like three weeks." Mung did approve of his new surroundings though, This new metal cave allowed them a solid workspace away from prying eyes and was more than likely more defensible than the farm they were previously on. They would need to excavate out areas, but that that could happen with time and provide them with the scrap to run improvements on their vehicles. "Oi, you Burb or whatever yer name is, you belong to the scrunts now. Whatchya got ta eat in there? All we got is burnt dogthing, rock blood, and a buncha promethium. We need some proper food to pair with our good drinkin' gas. Also where's the garage at, we gotta get the nuke inside a'fore the others start trying ta cuddle wiv it." He pauses a moment, the metaphorical (and also one literal) gears grinding in his head, before adding "You use ta live here a'fore, this is a nice hole fer sum scrunts, why'd the humans up and bail?"
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Feb 19, 2016 20:51
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Surb The Base Malbrathia-3 Surb shows no particular surprise as a third scrunt moves into his view. A couple of mechanical arms make inscrutable gestures as he responds to Mung: "I have subsisted on extremely unpleasant biological samples, scrunt, which are inadequate nutrition and also nearly depleted. I am curious to know what a 'burnt dogthing' is, and also 'rock blood,' but perhaps I we can assist one another in obtaining quality foodstuffs if you would be so kind as to free me? As to 'the garage,' this facility does include vehicle bays, on the uppermost level, unless they have been collapsed." Surb squints a little, seemingly thinking about something, for a moment, before his shoulders - and several of the attached manipulators - give a sort of rolling shrug. "Scrunts are not native to this planet. I therefore surmise you are either unaligned, or aligned with the Imperium, rather than servants of the Severans. So. This facility was until recently a concealed, classified research base established by the Imperium without the Severans' knowledge. A surprise offensive by the Severans pushed the battle line towards us, and the decision was made to withdraw. An orderly evacuation of material and records was planned; however, WITHOUT INFORMING ME the commander accellerated the evacuation out of COWARDICE AND PANIC, triggering the explosives ONE POINT FOUR THREE HOURS PREMATURELY." Surb's arms wave in agitation and a bit of spittle drips from his thin, bluish lips. "I presume the Severans now control the area. I have not been in contact with the Imperial command structure since the withdrawal. It is likely I have been assumed deceased. I can only assume the cowardly commanding officer has been executed for his sloppy and wasteful failure. However that is immaterial now. My research is far more important than the trivial movements of battle lines or the short-sighted and ignorant actions of an Astra Militarum commander. Free me and do not despoil my laboratory and I will assist you in turn. Agreed?"
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Feb 19, 2016 21:09
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Yurik Scraglagger Some Other Base Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 11/12 Yurik hmm'd and stroked his scraggly, blood-streaked beard thoughtfully as he listened to what the servitor had to say. The only servitors he'd encountered before were nothing like the thing behind the airlock door, blank-faced drudges tromping this way and that in pursuit of menial tasks and certainly not nearly as chatty, but while Yurik's pool of knowledge was immensely wide it was only sporadically deep and so it was entirely plausible that this was simply a more advanced form of servitor that he'd never had the opportunity to encounter before. Leave it to humies to waste their time with all sorts of useless frippery. He agreed with Mung's assessment that there probably wasn't anything on the ambulatory collection of augmetics worth eating either, but it was only when it mentioned that the base they'd discovered had been used for research that the Loremaster truly started paying attention to what it had to say. "Research, eh? An' just what kinda research are we talkin' about, hmmmmm?" Those familiar with scrunts knew that according them intelligence was a debatable classification despite their status as official abhumans but that they nonetheless possessed a certain low (extremely, extremely low) cunning that made them hazardous to underestimate. The look in Yurik's maniacal red eyes was all the more disconcerting for the gleam of real, malicious intelligence found there. A research base! Fresh knowledge, waiting to be consumed (figuratively and perhaps literally). The sight of a scrunt with intellectual interest was an ill omen akin to watching an unevolved primate field-strip a lasgun...no good could ever come of such a thing. "Us scrunts ain't on anyone's fackin' side," he informed the servitor, "on account of ain't nobody altogether on our side. There's Severans around all right. Well, mebbe not as many as there used to be," he cackled wheezily, "but it sounds like you've been left behind. We can get ya' out of there," he nodded knowingly, by which he meant he would supervise while someone else freed the trapped servitor, "but in the meantime, howzabout you tell us all some more about this research a' yours. You investigatin' that liquid metal shite? Or that disease thingumy that makes folks look all kinds of facked-up dependin' on who's doing the lookin'? Or mebbe the rocks that play back loud noises even louder? Or," he went on with a look of feverish anticipation, "is it somethin' else entirely?"
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Feb 21, 2016 07:17
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Groin Sklunger All About that Base Groin arrives to the party fashionably late and caked in drying blood. He waddles up to his group of scrunt buddies who are all huddled around a monitor. He politely elbows himself inside the scrumt (scrunt scrum) and stares at the robot man on the screen. "Awright?" Groin asks sheepishly to the robo-man, flashing a horrible smile. Groin lifts up his canteen full of blood so the robot man can see it. "Good stuff this innit!" he grins again; and then the grin immediately vanishes as his eyes dart around to everyone in the scrumt, and the robot. "Mine though..." he warns, while his robo-arm shakes a fist at everyone. The familiar feelings of paranoia, dread and anger begin to well up inside Groin. __________ Groin has joined the scrunts, and is paranoid that everyone wants to take his blood. Especially the the robot man. Groin's accent has changed to cockney.
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Feb 22, 2016 19:42
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Murdelia Skurvy In the Tunnel of Strange Robot Friends 12/12 Murdelia trundles along with all the other scrunts, nodding and frowning appreciatively at each new and excitingly ruined level of the base. When the rest start talking to the robot man thing, she detaches from the group and finds a patch of flat rockcrete and starts setting up a medical station. A tarp goes down, weighed down with chunks of rockcrete. A bag of medical tools scavenged over years of looting, carefully sorted according to date of manufacture. A satchel of powerful research chemicals. A jar of rawhide treats for any scrunts or pets that need a reward. A pile of rockcrete chunks of varying size, weight and sharpness, for any scrunts or pets that need to be anaesthetised. An old, worn out pillow covered in bite marks for any euthanasia required. A donation box with a picture of a smiling scruntmother and scruntling on it. "GET YER DIAGNOSTICATIN AND MEDICATIN HERE YA FUCKERRRRRS" is her sales pitch. ___________ Line up and get your Medicae treatment before you die of sepsis. Skellybones fucked around with this message at 22:04 on Feb 22, 2016 |
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Feb 22, 2016 21:57
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Drekk The Base Malbrathia-3 Wounds: 6/12 Fate Points: 0/2 Before Drekk can help with Surb's task, he needs to get those wounds treated! Luckily Murdelia set up a makeshift clinic. He walks over and puts a coin in the small box. "Patch me up real quick, if ya can." he says to Murdelia. --- Gonna get healed while the opportunity is there. Kaiju Cage Match fucked around with this message at 00:04 on Feb 23, 2016 |
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Feb 22, 2016 22:02
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