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Drekk Scrunt Convoy Malbrathia-3 Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Corruption Points: 1 Drekk has seen lots of things, but never before has he seen a giant rabbit monster burst into flames. Not just any flames, pink and blue! This encounter will be something to tell the scrunts back at base, and if they don't believe it, he'll just beat them senseless until they do. As he and Widget fire off more rounds into the damned rabbit monster, Drekk sees the Tauros explode, killing the second creature. The other scrunts appear to be (mostly) alright, but Groin is loving pissed that his sweet ride is in ruins, and he alternates between making flipping off and jacking off gestures with his cyber-arm and punching the dead creatures flanks with his regular arm. With this going on, Drekk senses an odd feeling in the air, but it's probably nothing... --- 26 BS + 5 (Ranged Volley) + 50 (Rabehemoth Size) + Whatever bonus/malus a normal cruising speed is = 81, give or take. Rolled a 73
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Jun 26, 2016 16:56
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Mungly Mung Wounds: 12/12 Fate: 2/2 Mung feels a weird tugging at his soul as the hellrabbit bursts into flames. Normally Mung associates this feeling before he's about to poo poo his pants, but this somehow felt more gross, if that was possible. He shakes his head and continues driving toward the flaming hell abomination. --- Continuing on cruising speed.
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Jun 27, 2016 15:44
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Grimply, Wounds: 9 Fate: 2/2 Grimply trails the path of his lasbolt, and is disapointed when the hellish rabbit monster seemingly shrugs it off. But then he's suddenly pretty happy because the thing burst into shiny flames and that should deal with it. Grimply has no idea where the flames came from, but miracles from the Father are often mysterious so there's really nothing more to consider. He swings his rifle around to get sight on the other rabbit monster, and spots it just in time to see Groin go into a full speed SLAM-RAM. While he would normally encourage such scrunty actions, a tiny part of his mind realizes that the creature is way too big to be SLAM-RAMMED! "Groin yer facker yer're slammin too 'ard! Yer slammin too..." His voice trials off when he sees the scruntauros bonk into the rabbit beast, only to be crushed under its fluffy foot a moment later. "Grooiiiin!!!!" Flet aims, Grimply shoots, rifle still on overload you know the deal by now 33 vs 95(45+20+10+10+10) 19+5 energy with 3 pen "New' Scrunt Eye" Energy Sniper Rifle with Scope(Longlas - Best/ 150m / s/-/- / 1d10+3E / pen1 / clip 32(40) / full round reload / Accurate, Reliable, Felling (1))
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Jun 27, 2016 18:01
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Murdelia Wounds: 10/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Current Boltgun Clip: 15/24 Spare Boltgun Clips: gently caress if I remember Murdelia dusts herself off and looks around. Everyone seems to be hurt but still alive. The scrunts can wait on medical treatment for a moment as she takes aim on the big rear end floof thats still up and gives it her all. "What ya standing around there for KEEP SHOOTING THAT FLOOF!!! SHOOT THE FLOOF!!!!" Half action to aim, half action to semi-auto burst , Comrade will ranged volley for +5. Total TN to hit before size mods/not accounting for vehicle mods=60 Scruntfather be praised
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Jun 27, 2016 20:25
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Grumb Slanger, the chimera +2 corruption Grumb blinks, staring deeply into the brightly burning hulk before him. The fire is beautiful, more than anything Grumb has ever seen. It swirls with a decadent cascade of color, drawing his eye deeper and deeper into the rapidly-charring form of the rabbehemoth. Something twists inside Grumb's brain, opening up the space behind his eyes like a man who has taken a long-overdue decongestant. "Bluhh," Grumb says, tongue lolling out of his mouth. "HEY! HEY GRUMB!" his companion barks from the chimera beneath him. "Ya stopped shootin' em!" Grumb shakes his head, jowling comically as he regains his senses. "Gomenasaiii, Barry-kun!" Grumb calls back down in an uncharacteristic tenor. "Wuzzat, Grumb?" his cousin asks timidly. "Dangol, shuddup Guy! I'ma try'na concertrate!" Grumb says, returning his eye to the meltagun's iron sights. But his comrades are quicker, and he watches the beast fall to a fusillade of fire from his teammates. "poo poo," Grumb mumbles, swapping out his melta-chamber for a fresh tank. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 02:41 on Jul 1, 2016 |
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Jul 1, 2016 02:30
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Yurik Scraglagger Great Malibrathia Dograbbit Shoot Malbrathia-3 Fate Points 2/2 -> 1 Wounds 12/12 Local Area Map Yurik laughed, and laughed, and laughed. The sheer rush of unfettered power was ecstatic, addictive. This, the Loremaster idly imagined as the towering creature burst into incandescent flames that shrieked like the souls of the damned, must be what sex was like, except he was actually experiencing it. The other occupants of the limousine, unlike him, had mixed reactions to the spectacle unfolding before them. Members of the militia clutched their rifles to their chests and rocked back and forth, some wept openly, others muttered to themselves in incomprehensible languages that they hadn't known only a moment ago. A high-pitched keening noise rose from Hack's mauled larynx that might have, in another less-damaged scrunt, been a scream. Yurik simply laughed some more, wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks with the back of his hand. No, wait, those weren't tears...he was weeping blood. How odd. That revelation wasn't enough to put a damper on his amusement, though. He had killed the beast...him, with the power of his mind! (The others had contributed some as well, he graciously allowed). He knew that he had felt himself growing stronger, but this far surpassed even his most optimistic expectations. Could it be something to do with the planet itself? Malibrathia-3 held plenty of mysteries he knew, the secret of Slamite, the Necron forest, mutants and oddities...could it be that something to do with this planet was having a beneficial effect upon his mental powers? Could this world truly be the Slam Sector? Such questions would have to wait until later. Right now they had other matters to attend to, namely how to haul their well-earned prize back to base. The supply depot could wait, if need be...this much meat couldn't be allowed to go to waste. The limousine rolled to a stop across from the recently felled behemoth, blood slicking the ground where it fell after the Tauros detonated spectacularly beneath its massive paw. Some distant and dimly-understood connection between the feet of lapine creatures and good fortune bubbled up to the surface of Yurik's vast lake of unrefined knowledge and set him to laughing again. His merriment was interrupted by an urgent voice coming over the microbead in his ear. "Yurik, Yurik, are ya' there!?" It was Mung's voice, he realized after a moment. "We got ourselves a problem!?" "Oh?," the Loremaster replied, still giggling to himself. "An' what's that then?" "It's Groin!," Mung said. Of course it was Groin. It wouldn't be an outing without Groin causing an issue...actually, wasn't Groin the one driving the Tauros? Well that certainly explained that. "He's gone off his skull again! I saw'im land after he crashed the buggy into the big beastie, but he's frothin' at the mouth an' thrashin' around! He's gonna hurt someone, mebbe himself! Can you do your, uh...y'know, your mind thingie on'im?" Oh yes, Yurik thought, he could do all sorts of "mind thingies" to Groin, but an idle thought occurred to him and a wicked grin stretched across his face. "O' course, o' course, you're quite right m'boy, can't have him hurtin' anyone now can we? An' I know just what to do...now listen closely an' do what I tells ya'..." *** It was difficult to imagine what the world was like from the perspective of Groin Sklunger when he was deep in his Angry Place. A blur of motion and sounds? A red haze over everything? Something far stranger? Whatever it was, the salvaged Chimera doubtlessly held little interest to the raving and frothing scrunt...or at least it didn't until it started speaking to him. "Groiiiin...Groiiiiiiiiin..." The operator's head whipped this way and that, snarling at everything and nothing as he attempted to find out who or what was speaking to him, until the Chimera's headlights flashing off and on and its horn honking caught his attention. "Groin! I am the machine spirit of the Chimera!" Groin's glassy eyes went wide, a trickle of drool dripping from his lips as he stared at the vehicle with animalistic incomprehension. "Listen to me Groin, for I have something of great importance to tell you...Groin, I am your father..." Even in his befuddled state the revelation was enough to bring Groin up short. His father? Did he have one of those? Biology wasn't precisely his strong suit, but he DID have a bunch of machinery in his body, just like the Chimera...could it be? After all this time, had he been reunited with his family? He opened his mouth as if to say something, the berserker haze beginning to lift from his eyes... "...which means I facked yer mum! Ahahahahaha! Honk honk honk honk hooooooonk!" Mung hit the horn over and over as Yurik, over the microbead, instructed him to even as the Loremaster telepathically goaded the raging scrunt into venting his anger upon the vehicle's hull. "Come an' get me ya' little shite!" *** This is probably outside the realm of what the Telepathy minor manifestation is meant to accomplish but A). there isn't actually any "use psychic powers to talk to peoples' brains" ability in Only War's kind of anemic selection of psyker powers and B). this is funny. Overall TN of 105, gets an 83 in case it matters, so like 3 DoS.
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Jul 2, 2016 07:55
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Grug Wounds: 12/12 Fate: 2/2 'THIS IS THE MOST FUN I'VE EVER HAD', he shouts with glee, spraying spittle across the view screen and squeaks out a few noxious farts in time with the jiggling of his flabby body. One of the larger beasts bursts into weird flame, snapping Grug from his reverie. He wipes dripping gobs of spit from the view screen with his forearm and peers incredulously at the spectacle and whispers, "wow, this gun goooood". Then, just for a moment he can smell his own smell; he wonders at the way the sweet musk feels heavy as it fills his lungs, and clings to every nearby surface, almost visible; the way snot, sweat and dirt has mixed on his forearms, forming colourful glittering clots tangled in thick ginger hair, "exquisiiiiiiite" he loudly whispers, not knowing what that word means nor really where it came from. Maybe he should ask the smart scrunt later? But all that lasts just a moment, and allowed him to remember why he came out in the first place... wanna collect up the alive wabbits in a big net and make a friend with at least one with wrangling
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Jul 2, 2016 19:36
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Mungly Mung After the fight "Jus' fer the record, this is really stupid." Mung clamors on the comms as he starts laying on his horn to get the frenzied scrunt's attention. The techscrunt throws the chimera into reverse ambling away from the raging ball of elbows, teeth, and explosives as he continues taunting him over the loudspeaker. "Oi, where's yer mom at anyways? Last time I shaved her back I weaved it into a nice coat. Maybe this time I could stuff a mattress with it. HAH." DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 17:09 on Jul 5, 2016 |
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Jul 5, 2016 14:53
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Sergeant Gumbo Bulge, bruised and dusty 10/14 Wounds 1/2 Fate "Oof. Tha' coulda been bad, eh lads?" says Gumbo, flat on his back and taking a moment to enjoy the slowly swirling clouds above. "Lads?" he says, a little louder this time, someone groans nearby, so he sits up, but it turns out to just be Pirk, rolling around and mewling weakly, he spots his chainsword nearby. He hauls himself to his feet and begins dusting down his uniform, then takes stock. The doc is alright, it seems, a little shook up, like himself, but already firing wildly at...something. A short distance away Groin lies alarmingly still (for Groin at least). "Ere, doc" he mutters at Murdelia, "Thin' our Groin there salrigh? E ain' movin' much." At that moment, Groin stirs, so Gumbo raises the laudhailer and points it at him. "Ye feelin' alrigh' there Groin?" he yells, and the operator's head snaps round toward him, without recognition. "Still feelin' a little outta it are ya?" he shouts, taking a few steps backward and reaching down slowly to pick up his chainsword. He kicks Pirk, attempting to rouse his companion. "Ow abou' ya 'av a little lie down, yeh? Get yer 'ead togevver." He lowers the laudhailer and hisses toward Murdelia, continuing to retreat slowly, nearly stumbling over a chunk of smoking meat. "Thinkin we oughta get ourselves outta 'is way yeh? Yeh." Finally he points the laudhailer toward the rest of the crew, engaged with the last beast. "Only one of 'em left lads!! Give 'im the bis-ness!! Half action heroic inspiration to help Groin's snap out of it test, Get Them order, half action move directly away from Groin.
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Jul 5, 2016 17:04
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Et Tu, Chimera? The Hinterlands Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-__DABbNeI Drekk's aim is thrown off by the clanking motion of the scruntmera - Mung's downshifted in order to get a good vrooming noise going even though he's not at top speed - and the disorientating neon flames engulfing the nearest colossus. A hail of shells whips past it as it thrashes madly; a couple of rounds sink home in its burning flesh, but the majority miss. By a fluke, he splinters the beast's kneecap just as it puts weight onto that treetrunk-like leg, and it slams bellowing to the ground. Gumbo valiantly attempts to inspire his troops to finish the job, but unfortunately everyone's too busy taunting Groin to listen; the scruntgeant attempts to broadcast via microbead, but the Scruntmera's taken over the channel and is busy telling the scout how much his mother revs its engine. In the distance he can see the vehicle's headlights flashing on and off lasciviously. Confused, he barks a few encouraging words at Groin and, obligation discharged, sensibly begins backing away. As the second rabbit-beast sprawls in a rapidly-growing pool of its own flash-boiling blood, a lance of ruby light erupts from the treeline and cores a terrific furrow right through what remains of its torso. Grimply has lined up his shot perfectly, and, combined with his knowledge of pseudolapine physiology, he's managed to detonate the beast's secondary stomach. The digestion of tough Malbrathian mountain foliage necessarily creates methane gas as a byproduct, and flames - regular flames this time - erupt from every orifice moments before the beast is torn apart from within. Chunks of smouldering creature decorate the mountainside, splattering everything within range as the technoscrunt driving the limo forlornly attempts to engage the windscreen wipers. Murdelia basks in the glow, rather than wasting any bolt rounds on what is now a heaped mountain of carbonised flesh. Groin, now without a valid target, lunges for Jekk with death in his eyes, only to stumble and fall short. His brain then catches up to what he's hearing over the commbead - he pauses for a few seconds, awash with lapine blood, before sprinting off in the direction of the scruntmera, determined to assert his authority in the manner he knows best....  final map! ----- Aftermath The Hinterlands Malbrathia-3 The evening rains sweep across the mountainside. After the excitement dies down, the scrunts rest. Wounds aren't the only thing that's licked - the Scruntmera has a suspiciously shiny, clean look about it, presumably as a result of Groin enforcing dominance and ownership in his habitual way. The Scrout glares sullenly at the shell of his ruined Tauros, nursing his cracked ribs. The Scruntinel is, astoundingly, still functional. It is seriously, heavily damaged, but a jury-rigged fuel tank will be something even the least technical of scrunts can figure out. It might be prone to exploding in a stiff breeze, but at least the walker can still... well, walk. The Tauros, on the other hand, is completely totalled. Nothing of value remains in its shattered chassis. The militia fan out with rather spooky levels of professionalism, hauling rabbit carcasses back to the limo and to the surviving vehicles. Grug wanders round poking at bodies, and any rabbits that hiss back at him are clocked on the head with the butt of his assault rifle and roped together with monofiliment from his ever-present scrunt scouting kit. The scrunts consider their situation. They've managed to bring down almost thirty of the smaller rabbits without irreparably tainting the bodies - a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation between the more logistically-minded members of the squad indicates that this gives them about eight days worth of supplies right off the bat. One of the huge beasts is chargrilled into uselessness - the other huge rabbit looks to be about three day's worth of meat all on its own, but it's bigger than the Scruntmera, and how they'll get it back to base is anyone's guess. Plus, the scorched heap of flesh-ash has some worrying streaks of melted metal in there - the scrunts are dimly aware that iron is needed for a healthy diet, but quite how much they need is up for debate. There's ten live rabbits to contend with, too. If they don't get medical attention, they'll probably die. If they do get medical attention, they'll probably kill. If the creatures are concious, healthy and feral, they'll probably do their best to eat any scrunt that gets near them. If the plan is to get these beasts back to the base for use as mounted cavalry, Grug indicates with distressingly childish glee that there's a period of starving and beating required until they are pliable enough to ride. On the other hand - with the correct pheremonal encouragement - where could the scrunts harvest some rabbit pheremones from? - they could be an incredible distraction for the refinery assault. The base should be running out of supplies round about now. In the morning, the civilian scrunts will become dimly aware that there's no slurry for breakfast. There's five transport limos hanging around aimlessly on the hillside; they could probably be sent back to base with rabbit corpses with very little hassle, and the only downside would be that they'd be unavailable for hauling back loot from the refinery. However, entrusting random scrunts to the care of live beasts is a recipe for disaster. Some other plan needs to be put into place for the dead rabbit colossus, too. The scrunts have wounded; they have damaged vehicles; but they do still have most of their kit. A decision needs to be made - do they press on to the refinery tomorrow, or do they head back to base first? There's also the matter of the impending orbital distraction that's set to hit the Severan base near the loyalist Adeptus Mechanicus compound to the south - it's evening now, and this will hit in the morning in three days' time. If the scrunts want to be in a position to take advantage of this - whatever it is - then their timescales are very tight indeed. And on the third hand, delaying the refinery strike until after the Mechanicus distraction could result in a boosted guard presence as the Severans react to a strike behind their front lines. The scrunts have taken out a tank with nothing but small arms; they've mounted assaults on fortified positions against horrible alien creatures; they've survived attacks by elite stormtrooper dropsquads; they've brought an entire mothballed military installation under their control. Now, their hardest challenge yet rears its head - to make a sensible decision. --- scrunt disappointingly, groin snaps out of his frenzy on the second round; more disappointingly, i forgot you get a cumulative +10 bonus to de-frenzing, so on average you're only looking at like three, four rounds of friendly-fire scruntrage tops drekk continues his usage of small arms against something that shrugs off multimelta blasts. two shots from the volley connect due to short range, and thanks to a lucky roll of 10 on a damage dice and the previous Get Them he actually knocks the beast down into critical 7 on the leg. gumbo fluffs the Get Them almost as badly as possible with a roll of 99, then inspires groin on his next roll grimply murders the remaining rabbit, taking it down to Crit 10+ on the torso. naturally, it explodes groin swings for and kills his comrade, before i realised that actually there's no reason for him to be in melee range with his comrade, just cohesion. so Jekk lives for now, and groin goes to fightfuck the chimera for a bit so: you got 8 supply points of regular rabbits, and 3 supply points of huge rabbit which you will need some cunning plan to deal with. you might wanna check the big rabbit to make sure it's safe to eat you have ten angry live rabbits. you have wounded scrunts and damaged vehicles, as well. what's the plan? are you raiding the refinery with rabbits on board, or are you stopping off at base first? if you want more info on stuff, shout. get your wounds seen to. your weapons are reloaded, but limited ammunition is not yet replenished until you go visit scrunts capable of replenishing it.
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Jul 8, 2016 19:20
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Murdelia Wounds: 10/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Current Boltgun Clip: 18/24 Spare Boltgun Clips: gently caress if I remember "Well that was a buncha fun. Let's head back with the meat and get everyone patched up. I figure I can get ya all up in a day or so and then lets hit that refinery." How many spare boltgun clips does Murdelia actually have? Also Murdelia is at 100 to heal anyone up that needs it.
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Jul 9, 2016 02:26
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Mungly Mung After the fight With the skill and attention span of an excited toddler, Mung quickly lost interest in leading groin around as he spits and cusses. The techscrunt farts loudly and decides to help out the collecting of the spoils in a way that keeps his rear end in the chimera seat: He drops the rear bay door of the chimera and attempts to scoop dead wolfrabbit corpses by backing up over the corpses. Helped on by the rest of the passengers and hindered by his own need to occasionally spin doughnuts and fling the helpers off, Mung hoped that it wouldn't take long to either fill the chimera to capacity or to collect all the corpses.
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Jul 12, 2016 23:20
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Drekk Scrunt Convoy Malbrathia-3 Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Corruption Points: 1 After Mung had his fill of scooping up rabbit corpses Drekk unseats himself from the autogun's seat and carefully maneuvers around them to the big rabehemoth corpses, inspecting the corpses. They seem to have odd metal streaks in the flesh and meat, which worries to him a small extent, which looks quite similar to the stompy walker in the farm. "Widget, get Yurik to come ova 'ere, and tell 'im not to do anything stupid with the combat drugs." He worryingly tells his compatriot, Widget. --- Going to get Yurik to poke around dead monster corpses if he wants to. As for what's next, I suggest returning to base to drop the poo poo off, restock on ammo, and head back out to the refinery.
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Jul 15, 2016 00:31
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Grumb Slanger, the aftermath Grumb finishes his celebratory cigar and lets out a tremendous belch. He strides over to a huddled circle of scrunts drawing action plans in the dirt and reconnoitering about supply lines and sustainability. Grumb stares on in horror as he realizes what he's looking at. "NEEERDS!" He bellows, pointing accusingly at the cabal of brainy scrunts. They look up from their charts and tables, and mouthfuls of rabbit fall from more than one mouth. "Grumb," one scrunt pipes up, "We've gotta get th' rabbits-food back to the base so's we can eat 'em and ride 'em" "DANGOL, SHUT THA FACK UP! LES' GO KILL THEM RIGHT NOW!" "Who do you mean, Grumb?" "I DON'T GIVVAFUCK! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" Grumb roars, firing a blast of scorching heat into the atmosphere. Scrunts scatter to and fro as the increasingly pleasurable smell of ozone wafts over the countryside. Grumb breathes deep.
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Jul 20, 2016 19:50
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Groin Sklunger Wounds: yeah Fate Points: nah Groin rolls around like a maggot in pain. "Mediiiiiiiick!!!!" Groin groans gratingly. ________ I wanna burn my remaining fate point to not be so hurt, also someone kiss my booboos better please and thank you.
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Jul 20, 2016 19:54
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Murdelia Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Current Boltgun Clip: 18/24 Spare Boltgun Clips: gently caress if I remember "COMIN YA DUKSHITE!" Murdelia says as she gets to work on Groin's fetid wounds. After she gets done patching Groin up she goes around to the rest of the squad and then finally patches herself up. Medicae vs 100: 1d100 33 6 DoS for Groin Medicae for the squad vs 100: 5#1d100 77 29 83 17 46 2, 7, 1, 8, and 5 DoS in that order.
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Jul 21, 2016 03:56
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Triage The Hinterlands Malbrathia-3 Murdelia stitches, burns and cauterises as Grumb fires mindlessly into the air, roaring. The scrunts throng, smoking furtively now that the initial rush of combat is over. They eye the heaped corpses, seemingly with very little idea of how to proceed. They've got a refinery to assault and a base full o' human techies to go investigate, but first they've got to deal with all this... palaver. Evening sets in. After a while, one of the technoscrunt limo drivers sheepishly sidles up to them with a flask of something shimmery and potent. "Wotcha lads. 'Ave a swig eh?" Well, why not. ------- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA UNKNOWAAAAAAAAAA MALBRATHIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_5unoZTpoQ  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  AAAAAAAAAAAAA  AAAAAAAAAAAA?  AAAAAAAAAAA! ------- Resuscitation - First The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umktyK3_CxM Chemicals flow continuously out of the breached reaction chamber as a murky dawn's sunlight drifts grubbily through the hole in the ceiling. Smoke can be seen rising across the backdroup of the cloud-filled sky. The remnants of a dozen or so PDF troopers slip slowly into the foaming, churning mass, flakplate dissipating into a useless mush as it slips below the surface of the green liquid. The wreck of the commandeered Leman Russ fizzes in turn; the chemicals lap halfway up its hull as Gumbo, Grimply and Drekk slowly come to, sprawled out of access hatches, blood sticky on... well, on most of their anatomy. A brief check indicates no major wounds, no missing items, and, creepily, Gumbo's cigar box appears to have been refilled. On the other hand, in about two minutes' time, if no action is taken, they'll probably drown in incredibly strong acid. Win some, lose some. The room's probably about eight metres by twelve, ceramic-lined by chance and luck; unbreached chemical tanks line one wall, with the burnt-out Leman Russ chassis incompletely plugging a point-blank battlecannon hole in the very-obviously breached tank. Most furniture has been subsumed into the acidic torrents, and the air's already choking - the tanks shift and creak alarmingly as their supports are slowly eroded. Blast doors have sealed the entrances at both ends of the chamber, and the scrunts are pretty positive there's no ordnance in the room powerful enough to get through them in a reasonable timeframe. There is, however, what appears to be a local network node embedded in the ceiling - a small flock of servoskulls chitter and whirr as they tend to it. There's also a tightly-closed airvent cover mounted high in the wall on both of the long sides of the room - the far one is probably impossible to get to, but the close one might be possible if a scrunt didn't mind clambering precariously on fragile tanks. Or, there's the hole in the ceiling to consider - it's a fair few metres away though, and the angle's too acute to easily grapnel up there. In order to get into a position where purchase could be made, the scrunts would have to move at least four metres away from their island of safety. There must be something around here they can use... ---- Resuscitation - Second The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nekoB3pAUqk The tarantula autoturrets blaze away constantly, the barrels almost cherry-red with constant exertion. They're locked into maximum-dispersal mode, so despite the fact that almost all of the scores of attacking PDF forces are cowering in the command centre's corner stairwells, the turrets are still putting out a constant, endless torrent of energy. The air is uncomfortably hot and the heat haze is palpable - within about two minutes they'll either shut down or detonate, and the position will be overrun. Mung, Yurik and Murdelia slowly come to, slumped in front of the main command console. They're not wounded, and all their kit's still present, but they've got thumping great headaches. Mung appears to be plugged into the command console, with a third wire insinuating into a scorched, burnt-out circuitboard marked with a great big white skull; some sort of one-use virus? Maybe they got it in the same place they got the miniature gyrocopter, which currently smoulders, unrepairable, in a heap against the command centre's central shaft. Shards of stained glass surround it; a huge mural of saints kneeling before the emperor now appears faintly obscene due to the unnecessary censorship. The turrets appear to be considering the scrunts friendly, maybe due to the enormous IFF tags the scrunts are wearing on curiously ostentatious chains around their lacks of necks. Still, they need to resolve the situation very soon - maybe they could make some escape from the windows? Or maybe do something useful with the central command console? It doesn't look like it's hooked into the turrets, but maybe it can do other stuff around the facility. There's also a barred-off grille leading into the central shaft, although even if the scrunts manage to shift it, it's probably about twenty metres to ground level so possibly a little too tricky to jump down. There must be something around here they can use... ---- Resuscitation - Third The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q02S6ZTeGeQ He's not really used to kowtowing, it has to be said. The grime from the floor is staining his ceremonial robes quite atrociously, but the Chematifuge has bigger concerns. Him and his staff are manacled, gagged, and hooded, kneeling on the rough wooden floor at gunpoint. Sure, there's four squads of troopers waiting outside for the breach order, but once it's given - in about two minutes, most likely - there's a very good chance he'll be killed in the crossfire. Part of his tactical training involved hostage situations, and most of his knowledge of them boiled down to "don't get caught in one". Still, at least the abhumans don't appear to have gone through his pockets yet. With a whickering snort, Grumb, Groin and Grug snap back into something blearily approaching consciousness, seated at desks on standard issue Severan swivelly chairs. All their kit's present, and none of them are wounded, but holy poo poo, how did they get into this situation? There's about forty troopers surrounding this high-windowed office building - they can't fire in, but once they kick in the doors of this open-plan office all hell's going to break loose. All the ground-floor exits must be covered by the Severans - there's a first floor, but none of the scrunts are quite comfortable with their ability to fly. Maybe they can talk their way out, or negotiate? Or maybe just come up with some sufficiently powerful booby trap? Why's that pack of six dograbbits pacing and lolopping around in the corner of the room, and why are they fawning so much at Grug? Is there a data connection anywhere? There must be something around here they can use... ---- i will kill you. investigate stuff, ask about stuff, do stuff. fast and loose with narrative - if you want to invent stuff it's probably fine. first group is trapped by a steadily rising pool of acid. second group is trapped in a siege situation that will shortly become untenable. third group is trapped in a hostage situation of their own devising - the refinery chief and his staff are your hostages. the technoscrunts and your comrades have all run away, taking the rabbit corpses back to base. you have situations to get under control acid room is a big rectangle. siege room is a bit like this (red star = helicopter crash, red rectangle = main console). hostage room is a big rectangle commbeads all work fine, all groups can communicate. main console can pretty much do anything plausible you can think of
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Aug 3, 2016 22:11
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I don't know what you're talking about, my comrade's with me.
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Aug 3, 2016 23:12
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Murdelia Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Current Boltgun Clip: 18/24 Spare Boltgun Clips: gently caress if I remember "Uhhh how did we end up here. Wait..." Murdelia says as she looks around and understanding of the situation dawns on her. "TURN THE loving TURRETS OFF BEFORE THEY BLOW UP MUNG, MUNG DO SOME TECHNOSCRUNTY poo poo!." Murdelia, for her part will try to help by figuring out what functions the central command console can help with. TN 40 to default on Intelligence I think, assuming I'm allowed to do poo poo. HOPE IT WORKS OUT. Viva Miriya fucked around with this message at 00:43 on Aug 12, 2016 |
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Aug 4, 2016 00:17
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Yurik Scraglagger Fear And Loathing in Malbrathia-3 ??? Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 12/12 Local Area Map Yurik could feel a pain. It wasn't a good pain, if there even was such a thing. It was, in fact, a very awful, rather nauseating pain that left him feeling like his much-vaunted brain was about to liquefy and seep out through his eyesockets, which at this point might have been a welcome relief. Why did he hurt so much? What had happened? Where were they? And what was with all the shooting? Blearily he cracked his bloodshot eyes open, pulling his head off the console it had been glued to by a thick coating of drool, took a deep breath, and proceeded to vomit noisily all over the floor. The contents of his stomach hissed and sizzled worryingly as they splattered onto the ferrocrete. What in the Scruntfather's name had he been drinking? Drinking...the hazy memory flowed sluggishly through the sump-tunnels of his pain-wracked mind. Yes, they had been drinking, a celebratory toast to their victory over the local wildlife. Clawing the memories out of the muck was an arduous process, normally they would be there waiting for him to sift through at his leisure but now there were inky splotches riddling his mind where memories seemed reluctant to emerge or even non-existent. He remembered... ...Mung approaching him, inviting him to have a look at some of the carcasses they'd killed. Meat and bone laced with metal, more strangeness. He remembered jubilantly celebrating his triumph over the enormous creature that had tried to kill them, remembered taunting Groin into licking the Chimera all over (which in retrospect had been a far more disturbing outcome than he'd been aiming for, but at least it had worked)...he remembered wanting to tell the others about the vision he'd had, but then one of the technoscrunts had come scuttling over and offered everyone a drink, and what was the harm in having a drink now and then... ...and after that he remembered was far less clear, the black patches growing bigger and darker until a few seconds ago when he'd awoken, and now his most recent memories were of head-splitting pain, an awful taste lingering on his tongue, and the sound of weapons fire hammering into his beleaguered head like a hammer. "Whuthafack-?" was all he could get out before he heard Murdelia shouting beside him, adding to the concussive pain pounding through his brain. "Wherethafack-?" This time it was the sound of gunfire and shouting that interrupted him, sickly sparks fizzling across the surface of his thinkin' cap as he winced and groaned. Marshaling his thoughts was proving trickier than usual, but as usual it looked like it was up to him to save everyone else using his vastly superior intellect. Just as soon as he could actually think for a minute. *** No skill use just yet, time to ask some questions. First does the console we're slumped against have anything worth noting that's immediately obvious and doesn't require Tech-Use, like labels on the buttons or monitors showing other parts of the facility, stuff like that? Even if it's not immediately obvious what the labels MEAN I can always try something like Logic to puzzle them out so we don't solely have to rely on Mung to do stuff with the console. Also besides the console and the gyro is there anything else of interest in the room? And do any parts of the gyro look usefully salvageable in the next two minutes? Cables that can be used as ropes or something maybe. If the main console controls things like the blast doors then that ought to be able to help out the acid pit group once someone thinks to figure out where they are and what their deal is, though I don't know how to help the hostage group unless there are some cameras we can use to help guide them out of the Rainbow Six map their life has become. Also gear-check, I have a multikey and some iron-eater grenades.
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Aug 4, 2016 07:33
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Mungly Mung - Forcefully ejected from a plane https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQ5gtInauiI Wounds: 12/12 Fate: 2/2 Mung jumps at the psyscrunt and the medic both yelling simultaneously and does a double take. "'Well itsabout time you guys snapped out of it, yall act like ya hadn't ever had Ricky Doo's Special Supreme Swill, Ya'lls a buncha lightweights. But man we had ourselves a hoot though. After we sent the lads on the way with the rabbits all yall got real goofy on me. Fun story, I'll tell ya about it sometime. Just don't ever try ta poop bomb a base again, yall caused me a problem something fierce." Mung puffs his chest out self-assuredly, "Luckily I think I got it under control at least until the turrets break and they come in to kill us all." Mung tugs at the wires that feeding from the console into the patch of machinery where his nose once was "I'm smellin; us a way outta here, but in da meantime, one of ya do something with this" he exclaims as he rustles through his pockets, finding mound after mound of rabbit-wolf gore before coming upon the small brick of plastic explosive that he plopped down between the other two gawking scrunts. Using his bi-directional smell array, he could tell that the machine spirits of the console was deeply offended by his odor, but he went ahead and sent some binary unlocking pheromones to the machine to attempt to bypass the login. As the login processed, he took a moment to interface with his awwgrr array to look for some hazard that could be blown up to create an obstruction. As he did all this, he absent mindedly asked to the scrunts standing behind him, "Now whichn of ya brought the rope?" --- Hitting the floor running here, going to run either tech use +10 or Security +0 on the console, whichever is more relevant, I'm assuming +10 from MIU smell-o-vision would put me at a target of 75 for Tech Use or 65 for security, more if I had Yurik's multikey or an assist. I almost added multi tool but then I remembered my utility servo arm is gone, unless the mechanicus axe counts as a combi-tool (Not as stupid as it sounds, the core rulebook's Omnissian Axe actually counts as one). I'll also use my good quality augur array here to try and detect a source of heat and/or radiation we can bomb out to hinder pursuers. Barring either of those, maybe try and find a structural point to try and collapse that can block them out without killing us all. How big is the room we're in? DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 21:30 on Aug 4, 2016 |
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Aug 4, 2016 20:31
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Grimply, on acid Wounds: 9 Fate: 2/2 As a seasoned schizophreniac, Grimply is no stranger to waking up in weird places without having any memory how he got there. It's just normal that he doesn't really remember the times when the Father takes over. But what isn't normal is that other scrunts around him also seem to suffer from memory loss and why the fack would he ride a wheelybox into a locked room full of acid? Strange tidings indeed. While Grimply ponders this, the sound of melting things draws his attention to the fact that the bubbling acid is rising and eating away at the wrecked wheelybox. Even his busted brain can understand that he's about to die if he can't get out of this situation. His beady eyes dart around the room, passing over the hole in the ceilling , and fixing on the vent cover that closest to their position. It's a pretty nice vent cover because it speaks to him. "Hey pal! How about climbing inside of me? It's cold and tight in here and there is no acid at all! Come on... you know you want to.." "Stupid sexy vent.." he mutters to himself Aight, so since I don't suck at climbing I could scale the tanks and reach the vent cover. Questions: Is the cover tightly fused or does it look like it can be pried off by brute force or with the help of a tool like a knife or can it just be shot to pieces from range? Is there a place that the other scrunts can reach so that they could climb up my grappnel line to reach the vent?
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Aug 4, 2016 21:14
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Resuscitation, Command Centre The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQVE5FXgrpU The scrunts slumped around the central control console jolt back into life like frog legs under an electric current. Speaking of electric currents, Mung jams his smell down the interface port of the unfortunate console and is rewarded with a short, painful electrical shock to the base of the throat. He drums his fingers impatiently as he awaits the handshake protocol's completion, but realistically, who wants to shake hands with a scrunt? His attempts at auguring a heatsource meet with a resounding success - there's eight really powerful heat sources in this very room! The tarantula sentry turrets! They could be very easily rigged to explode, and in fact seem to be about to do so seemingly of their own accord. They don't seem to be able to be disabled - there's a hard lock on their power supply, they're getting about four times as much juice as they should be doing. While the concept of a hotshot multilaser is an appealing one, it looks like there's a very good reason they're not in widespread use. The machine spirits have taken a while to process his logon request, for reasons that swiftly become apparent once he's in - the console spirits are engaged in a scorched earth campaign with the encroaching virus from the burnt-out dataslate dangling from the secondary interface port. The data architecture is now loosely analogous to a blackened, scorched stretch of Death-Corps-Of-Krieg-style trenches, as monstrous, colossal, barely-glimpsed forms duel above the technoscrunt. He can scuttle about the battlefield and get stuff done with very little interference, but any attempts to leave the immediate area seem to bring roaring and shaking from both sides of the conflict. A tiny part of Mung's rational mind interprets this as the local network being locked off from accessing the world outside the refinery, but the rest of it's mostly occupied with gibbering. Yurik and Murdelia, by contrast, prod and poke at a few buttons, gaining much the same access as Mung with a fraction of the trauma. A bank of skull-shaped keys appear to allow a couple of the monitors to cycle through security camera footage - the scrunts notice a small group of particularly ugly creatures perched on top of a corroding tank dissolving in acid in what looks like an underground swimming pool, and another similar group apparently holding a bunch of hooded figures hostage in some sort of office building. Footage from the central quadrangle of the refinery appears to indicate a lot of PDF troopers running around, gesticulating. A considerably more well-armed and alert group seems to be guarding the shuttle landing pad, and the civilian shuttle parked on it. Playing with the other controls in conjunction with the security monitors gives some indication of the level of control afforded. There's more turrets dotted around the complex, each of which can be shifted to ignore IFF and just fire indiscriminately with minimal prompting. Making them friendly is, however, not an option - they're on a different network to the central command room ones, and the ersatz IFF tags the scrunts currently wear probably won't work. They'll just fire at movement. Control of the doors appears to be routed through this console, too, along with the chemical processing machinery covering elsewhere in the plant. Turning their attention to the room, the hollow square surrounding the central shaft appears to be about four metres in width, twelve metres per side. A quick bit of mental arithmetic indicates that the central shaft is a square of four metres per side, and the corner stairwells appears to be roughly equivalent in size. It's a fairly officey sort of space - not much in the way of ropes - but the gyrocopter looks like it'll afford about ten metres of drive cable. It'll be the work of about a minute and a half to turn it into some sort of escape rope out of the broken window, leaving what looks like a five metre drop between the end of the rope and the ground. A scrunt taking charge of this won't be able to do much other than shout suggestions to the other two; their hands will be occupied. Descending the rope will probably draw attention from the soldiers outside in the quadrangle - maybe arranging some sort of distraction first would make sense. ---- Resuscitation, Acid Pit The Refinery Malbrathia-3 The Leman Russ shifts alarmingly as the blast doors at the end of the acid chamber slam open briefly and then closed again, causing torrents of chemical to gush out of the brief opening. Screaming is heard, for a second or two. Grimply considers the vent.  The cover looks pretty firmly affixed. It could be prised off with enough force, but the sniper reckons he'd struggle to get the angle to apply enough leverage, and if he's up there on the wall, only he could be working on it. Maybe there's some way to let all the scrunts present work on it at once... He could shoot it off, but he'd have to go for the affixing bolts - just shooting the living poo poo out of the cover would probably render the vent itself too heavily damaged to sneak through. Well, for the other two to sneak through, at least. The swarm of servoskulls continue to tend the overloaded, sparking power conduit. ---- Resuscitation, Normal Day In Regular European Office The Refinery Malbrathia-3 A trooper with a megaphone bellows from outside into the hostage room. "WHAT ARE YOUR DEMANDS?" The dograbbits whicker and whine, licking aimlessly at things. ---- scrunts mung passes a +10 tech use to gain admin access to the console; it's very similar access to what a normal user would get by poking at it, because the killallnerds.exe virus that's running on it has triggered autonomous network shutdown switches. the console's got authority within the refinery complex, but can't transmit outside. fiddling with the console indicates that it has control of the blast doors in the acid room. however, causing an acid tidal wave will be dangerous as hell for anyone standing on the tank. this route out will need acrobatics tests to stay aboard, or maybe some way to affix yourself to the top of the tank (e.g. rope) vent is +0 S to prise off; or you could grapple it and the other two scrunts could assist. or, more likely to succeed, the scrunt with the highest strength could grapple it and the other two assist. or it can be shot off with three -40 BS tests (-20 of that is a Called Shot penalty) you can grapple to the vent no problem; you just can't grapple to the ceiling hole without briefly standing on something in the acid to get the right angle. maybe there's something in the Leman Russ you could use if you want to get a temporary platform; you've gotta get three metres out and pass a BS test Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:25 on Aug 5, 2016 |
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Aug 5, 2016 18:15
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Drekk The Hangover: Scrunt Edition Malbrathia-3 Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 1/2 Corruption Points: 1 "Where the feck are we?" Drekk groggily asked, nursing a massive headache. "Someone get the coffee brewi..." In a series of inexplicable events, he, Gumbo, and Grimply somehow commandeered a Leman Russ tank and the corpses of a dozen PDF troopers are strewn about. And there's a rising pool of acid, what luck. The acidic revelation was enough to snap Drekk out of his drunken stupor. He observes the room in the quickest way he can and he eyes a vent he can possibly get to by jumping across tanks (the storage kind, not the vehicle kind) and metal support bars and rip the vent off. "Grimply, if you want, I can try leapin' across and pry the vent off. We need ta figure out fast though, or we'll be dead!" --- I propose Drekk makes like Mario and jump and climb to rip the vent off since he is strong and has Athletics.
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Aug 7, 2016 20:26
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jesus loving christ you can leap five metres from a standing start. for reference the long jump world record is close to nine metres from a sprinting start. +0 Athetletics test puts you comfortably on the vent, like a spider also your character sheet is missing a breakdown of close to 1150xp in spend, so please update that
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Aug 7, 2016 21:42
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DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:jesus loving christ you can leap five metres from a standing start. for reference the long jump world record is close to nine metres from a sprinting start. +0 Athetletics test puts you comfortably on the vent, like a spider PROBLEM SOLVED Spider Scrunt, Spider Scrunt, does what ever a spider does. Shits a web, any size, catches rats just like flies. Look out, here comes the Spider Scrunt. EDIT: Drekk The Hangover: Scrunt Edition Malbrathia-3 Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 1/2 Corruption Points: 1 Drekk takes it in his own hands to reach the vent. He hastily leaps across corroding tanks and metal bars to reach it. Scrunts aren't arboreal creatures, but he tries his best to keep his balance. Will he succeed, or will he fall into boiling acid? Stay tuned! --- The Amazing Spider-Scrunt Gonna do an Acrobatics test (50 Agility + 10 from a spending a Fate Point for this roll = 64). Got an 8. Now I feel silly for spending a Fate Point! Kaiju Cage Match fucked around with this message at 22:23 on Aug 7, 2016 |
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Aug 7, 2016 21:53
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Mungly Mung Plan B Wounds: 12/12 Fate: 2/2 Mung's brain fires idea sparks as his plan comes to light. He starts wiggling uncontrollably and spinning his sevo arm in a circle as he blows more data down his bi-directional smell array along with several small bubbles of oil out of what use to be his nose. He squeaks out to his companions over the sound of lasfire, "Get the rope uncoiled from the chopper lads, an' start stickin it down that shaft like it was yer mum. I gotta do a thing here then we're blowing this popsicle stand." He also gets on his comm-bead and tries to raise the others, unsure if they could even hear him from this range: "Oi lads, I got some distractions coming right up, grab whatchu can and leg it. Jus' keep 'way from the turrets fer now." The techscrunt scentloads a series of commands to the console, waiting for the acknowledgement responses before unjacking himself and spinning around on his heels. He darts over to the chopper, fumbling with his brick of explosives. He set the explosives to remote detonation and sticks it on the chopper, away from the smoldering bits but out of sight. He clamps his servo arm onto the copter wreckage and attempts to slide it as close to their egress point without going over it as possible, hoping to get more of the line's slack down the shaft to limit the distance they had to fall to get to the bottom. That being done and him being satisfied that the console had enough time to upload to all the networked things, Mung sprints back over to the console and with a leaping swing brings his servo arm down on the console as hard as he can to smash the cogitator and render it inoperable. He couldn't have the security forces outside undo his beautiful work after they left, after all. His work being done, he turns his attention to getting the hell out of here. ---- The spoiler tag is there because I don't know if anyone outside of the two other scrunts beside me can hear me on the comm bead, I will let DJF decide how much of that message actually makes it to the others. This is all reliant on time, start trimming what I can get done based on remaining time as you see fit. On the computer console I want to do the following in order of importance: -Try and get a blueprint of the facility scentloaded into my mind so I've got an idea of where to go when we get out of here. -Disable IFF on all turrets I can have access to. -Enable Continuous fire on all those turrets - even if they don't have a target they should all be firing full bore until they run out of ammo or jam or explode. I'm hoping this can work as a my psuedo-timer on them. - If I can identify which bulkhead doors contain scrunts, I'm going to leave those shut to give them their privacy and open all other doors. If I cannot identify said doors or cannot open all the other doors without opening the pool party door and the rabbitdog meditation chamber door, then scratch this option entirely. -Hijack all networked Laud Hailers in the base, have them all play the songs of our people. If I don't have songs smellloaded into my cerebral cortex, then make Laud Hailers play continuous loops of dial up modem noises at maximum volume. After that, I'm going to do the following: -Plant demolition charge on the helicopter so that when we make it down, I can set it off, blow up the copter, and the guard cannot scurry down the line after us. -Try and move the wreckage of the helicopter with my servo arm so that it's closer to the shaft and we can get the cable a little closer to the ground. -Smash computer console -Get the gently caress out down the helicopter line assuming Yurik or Murdellia got the line down the shaft. 
DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 16:57 on Aug 8, 2016 |
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Aug 8, 2016 14:59
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Yurik Scraglagger Fear And Loathing in Malbrathia-3 ??? Fate Points 1/2 Wounds 12/12 Local Area Map Yurik didn't generally react very well to being ordered about, preferring to give the orders whenever he could get away with asserting what passed for his authority, but at the moment he was hung-over and his brain felt as if it had been steeped in something unpleasantly viscous and so just this once he was content to let Mung take charge of this particular operation. Delegation, he thought blearily as he fell face-first onto the floor before scrabbling onto his feet and scuttling over to the wreckage of the gyrocopter to feebly unwind the drive cable from its chassis, delegation was the key to effective leadership.
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Aug 9, 2016 07:52
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DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:Resuscitation, Normal Day In Regular European Office Groin Sklunger Hostage Situation In a sleepy daze from waking up Groin parrots back "Whata YOUR demands!?!?". He then begins to also aimlessly lick things with the dograbbits while feebly trying to make sense of the situation. "Guys what the feck?!?!" he mutters to the other scrunts. _________ Groin is stalling. Also can I use paranoia to detect any hidden threats?
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Aug 9, 2016 18:22
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Grumb Slanger, Hostage Situation "Um, poo poo! Lets, ah, poo poo, tal'bout, lets get the thing, and hoof it on outta here!" Grumb begins nervously spinning his chair as he checks his pockets, desperately trying to remember what he was doing there. His companion Grug was with him, at least, and he seemed to finally be rid of that bumbling mohawked fellow. Mung's message rings through a gravelly static in Grumb's ear, increasing his panic. What was it they were supposed to retrieve?? He wheels his chair over to the closest window, holding his green shades up to check the area in their reflection. There he sits, silently mouthing numbers as he scans the perimeter. After a tense beat passes, Grug whispers "How many of 'em?", to which Grumb mutters "Dangol, no fuggin' i-dear" in reply. So they're going to get some sort of distraction soon... But deep down, Grumb isn't sure whether he trusts the word of a stinking scrobot with his life. They were going to need to come up with something good to get out of this alive. His eyes wander from his companion's bandolier to Groin's cameleoline cloak, and then to the grav chute haphazardly looped onto his belt. Grumb pulls out his three remaining Fire Bombs, and looks them over appraisingly. "Arright boys, nades out!" he gruffly bellows to the room. Oh god, the Chematifuge thinks, I knew it. Here comes the sex stuff. The thought of those horrible little beasts getting anywhere near his equipment causes him to leak coolant at an alarming rate. Groin looks up from the discarded wrapper he had been licking, flehmening his nose as he sniffs in the chematifuge's direction. "Wuzzat, boy?" Grumb swivels around. "D'ja smell sumfing?" ------------------------------------ Grumb examines the chematifuge more closely, much to his chemato-chagrin. He also is taking stock of the grenades and Experimental Combat Drug between the three of them, and baking up an ill-advised escape plan involving everyone sharing the same camo cloak/grav chute like some kind of harry potters.
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Aug 9, 2016 19:26
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Murdelia Wounds: 12/12 Fate Points: 2/2 Current Boltgun Clip: 18/24 Spare Boltgun Clips: gently caress if I remember "Ya ya I'm on it!" Murdelia says as she grabs the rope from Yurik and starts shoving it down the shaft. "Ok lets get the feck outta here!"
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Aug 12, 2016 00:43
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Grug Wounds: 12/12 Fate: 2/2 'this is the least fun I've ever had' mutters Grug as he comes round. Rubbing his eyes with his filthy forearms just makes them worse and the interior functions of his body felt more out of sorts than when he ate rats that lived in the sump of a RageBliss den Well, at least he's not alone, Groin, who he suspected has a broken brain and spinning in an office chair, his BFF Grumb. And some doggies! He spends a moment charging around the room on all fours, sniffing and licking, and being sniffed and licked by his doggy friends. Everything's great! Maybe the best fun he'd every had? But Grumb and Groin seem a bit worried so he takes in the rest of the situation... ... hm, what a pickle! 'Hey Grumb old pal, I've always want to try these out, ', he removes 3 brown grenades with angry orange markings from his bandoleer, 'I'm sure these will help,' his voice drops to a loud whisper, 'if we set them off and trigger the alarms maybe all those angry men outside will leg it'. As he looks over to the hooded figure, the doggiewabbits follow his gaze and start circling and sniffing. What a great idea, maybe that will help us figure out some more of this great plan; Grug goes back on all fours and joins in, 'So mister *sniff sniff* what happens here when there's a *snifffff* big chem leak? Alarms? Evacuation?'
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Aug 14, 2016 23:47
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Grimply, still on acid Wounds: 9 Fate: 2/2 "Grimply, if you want, I can try leapin' across and pry the vent off. We need ta figure out fast though, or we'll be dead!" "Yee, laddie! But mind tha greeny bits tha stuff will melt yer boots roight off yer feet! Would be a shame about yer boots, roight? I'll be roight on yer 'eels but I gotta check tha sarge first!" Drekk gives Grimply a wicked smile, before leaping off the crumbling vehicle onto the nearest storage tank. Grimply scuttles over the wreck, reaching for Gumbo. The scrunt sarge seems to have taken a nasty knock and still isn't fully here yet. So Grimply grabs him and starts to shake and slap him back into reality. "Oi laddie we needs ta get outta 'ere! Git on yer feet or yer join tha 'umies in tha sludge! Yer can use me climby 'ook after I got to tha 'ole up there. Oi! Yer heard me??" Gumbo's eyes are still kinda hazy but he nods slowly so Grimply lets go and scuttles off back to the edge of the leman russ while readying his grappling hook. I want to grapple to the vent and aid Drekk with opening it. My strength is poo poo but whatever. I'm pretty sure I should be able to magboot onto the wall around it? If I can do that then I would try to throw my hook back to Gumbo so he can quickly catch up to us and help. Could make a ballistic or agility roll to see if I land it near him or gently caress it up completly? Also, question. How good of an idea is it to shoot the vent bolts point blank with my scrunt pistol?
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Aug 15, 2016 06:39
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Tin Tim posted:I want to grapple to the vent and aid Drekk with opening it. My strength is poo poo but whatever. I'm pretty sure I should be able to magboot onto the wall around it? DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:The room's probably about eight metres by twelve, ceramic-lined by chance and luck; you can grapple there - sequence is affix grapple, drekk jumps, you retract grapple line and whizz over to join him. you can't stick yourself to the wall you both have Double Team so i'm not gonna give any penalties for the limited space up there; you can both attempt to wrench the vent cover off the wall, and regardless of how weedy grimply is he still gives +10 to assist quote:Also, question. How good of an idea is it to shoot the vent bolts point blank with my scrunt pistol? real bad; the bolts are a lot bigger than your bullets and you ain't gonna chew through them with autopistol rounds. also richochet is a thing so you'll be point-blank shotting against yourself. success means no stray rounds hit you. you have basic scrunt tools (hacksaw) to weaken the bolts and do a brute-force strength test against wrenching the cover off with no penalty, but ballistic weapons probably won't help. you have krak missile launchers strapped to your back, still, but that's probably... overkill. drekk's got a pyrophoric vambrace but no scrunts currently in the room have the knowhow to attempt to narrow the nozzle. some sort of really powerful close-combat cutting tool that, for example, ignores armour saves in the tabletop game could easily make short work of the bolts and negate the need for any skill tests. scrunts with tech use, trade: armorer, or common lore: anything particularly technological - oh my god it's such a bad idea to use the vambrace, it's not an acetylene torch it fires powdered corrosive metal dust it'll gently caress everything up
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Aug 15, 2016 13:00
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Oh dang, I forgot about the ceramic! Welp most of my plan still stands though. Grappel over, wrangle vent with Drekk, hope that Gumbo wakes the gently caress up because his powersword would be very helpful, cry a small tear when Drekk and me flee into the vent while Gumbo still lies on the leman russ, make some kind of jpeg as an epitaph for the sarge. Phoon 
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Aug 15, 2016 18:45
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Resuscitation, Command Centre The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWL1Rs2SJ9E Murdelia gets to work stripping drive cables from the gyrocopter, feeding them down the central shaft with a feverish urgency as Mung thrashes spastically at the main console like a chimp playing the organ. The technoscrunt, more machine than organics, seems to be shaking off the effects of the special brew faster than his comrades - as he activates the boot sequence for his soundcasterjammer with one hand, the other flails at the keyboard. He doesn't manage to find blueprints of the facility per se - there's no easily-digestible maps lying around that he can find in the few seconds he can spare for the task - but he gets a vague idea of the layout, enough to find his way around with only minimal swearing and doubling back. It's much like other chemical plants he's seen, anyway, with a barracks tacked on. Easy. He has a little more luck with the doors, though, simply because it's scruntlings play to send a tiny, hastily-programmed spiritshell into the network with the simple instruction of OPEN DOORS (SO LONG AS IT'S NOT THESE DOORS); even scrunt code can manage something that simple. All facility doors apart from the ones holding back the acid tide should, in a matter of seconds, fling themselves open, greatly easing the transport of Severan men and materiel around the chemical processing plant. 'Course, this just means more fodder. With a suitably understated chuckle, Mung sends the external Tarantula turrets into overdrive; they'll fire on any movement they detect until they overheat. Mostly focused around the entrances to the refinery, they will provide little more than long-range suppression against anything in the centre - the central quadrangle and helipad - and will probably only serve to rattle the soldiers around the relatively unguarded admin centre. However, with comms down and a lot of panicking soldiers being forcefed scrunt bagpipes over the intercoms, anyone who goes out to investigate what's going on will probably turn into a briquette in fairly short order. This means a considerable number of Severans will probably have BEEP BEEP BEEP TARGET ACQUIRED be the last thing they ever hear. The technoscrunt's appetite for destruction is not yet sated. Turning his servo arm on the computer console, he smashes the poo poo out of it and then widens the hole in the central shaft via the simple expedient of bodily hurling the terminal through the wall. It crashes satisfyingly off the walls and shatters with a fairly hefty boom as it strikes bottom. This immediately negates the work spent in routing his scruntjamming music through the intercoms, as he no longer has an interface port - radios will still probably be down where it counts, but unfortunately the scrunts won't have an enjoyable soundtrack to accompany their escapades. The gyrocopter wreck is next on the agenda - over about twenty seconds of huffing and swearing it gets wedged into the breach, enabling Murdelia's cable handiwork to reach nearly down to ground level. Feeble though certain scrunts may be, a drop of a single metre probably won't break any ankles. Slapping the brick of scrunt plastique onto the wrecked 'copter, Mung is first over the edge to clamber down. By the time the control centre turrets explode and the encroaching assault squads storm up the stairwell, Mung, Yurik and Murdelia are scurrying through a vent leading away from the bottom of the central shaft. The front few soldiers heft their lasguns at the weird geometric sculpture left blocking the breach, and try to figure out what that weird lump is on its chassis.  And then it all goes white. ---- Resuscitation, Acid Spit The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1nbSHXcNFs&t=215s "HYYAAAAAHHHHHH" Drekk catapults himself at the wall from a standing start like a coiled spring, splatting high above the vent cover and sliding down greasily to cling onto it with both hands. Grimply and Gumbo exchange uneasy glances at the swordscrunt's unnatural prowess at flinging himself around, but then cast even more uneasy glances at the green liquid lapping around the edges of their boots. Grimply thwocks his grapnel and line expertly between two slats of the vent cover, hauling back the grapnel head after its prongs engage and affixing himself firmly to the wall. Reeling in the line, he joins Drekk on the wall and, together, they attempt to wrench the vent cover from its moorings. Their leverage is, to say the least, constrained - rather than standing on the disintegrating tank, hauling on the grapnel and applying full force in their attempts to rip off the vent cover, like many would do in such a situation, the scrunts decide to make things interesting by basically getting up close and personal with the bolts. On the one hand, they stand a better chance of weakening the bolts if they can try and saw through some of them - on the other hand, they add a quick dip in searing acid to the possible outcomes for failure. Grimply saws while Drekk heaves, muscles standing out on his upsetting scrunty frame like sex offenders in a playground; with a pop and a clang and a sping and a fuckfuckfuCK gently caress AHHHH, the vent hatch lurches alarmingly as the third bolt is removed. The two scrunts dangle perilously close to the surface of the acid - Grimply hanging by his grapnel and Drekk hanging by a horribly contorted wrist - but manage to scurry up into the vent system before their strength fails them completely. Gumbo stands, nonplussed, on the slowly-sinking Russ, making no move to join them. The scrunts can only give him so long before making their escape... --- Resuscitation, Normal European Church The Refinery Malbrathia-3 "WHAT ARE YOUR DEMANDS?" "WHAT ARE YOUR DEMANDS!?" "NO, YOU FIRST!" "NUH-UH!" "YUH-UH!" From within his hood, the Chematifuge gets the impression that these hostage-takers aren't quite treating the situation with the gravity it deserves. And, if by the Omnissiah's grace he gets out of this, he'll have to have a word with the garrison commander, possibly over a nice steaming vat of acidic hyperconcentrate. He senses something in front of him, and gibbers faintly as a huge, raspy tongue is dragged across large parts of his body. Rough hands grab him, and his worst fears are realised - the documents revealing his dealings with the Trader currently in orbit are snatched! The polyceramic composite plates required for a missile of the desired specification took his facility months to design, extrude and create, and now his captors know they're loaded onto the Aquila lander, fuelled and ready for takeoff, on the central flyer pad! His composure cracks, especially after Grug asks about major chemical leaks. "Alright! Yes! The rocket parts are here! In the lander, on the cargo pad! Just don't harm me, or our facilities, or our systems, and we can smooth this all over! No-one would evacuate in the event of a chemical leak if there were any chance of fixing matters, our work here is too valuable!" Grumb, halfway through using the letters to roll up a space-lho blunt to calm his nerves, is nonplussed. Judging from chatter over the comms, it's a bit late for the facilities or the systems, and judging from the constant CRAKKARAKKARAKKA of high-intensity lasfire that's just started up, he's pretty sure the troops outside know it. He glances at the doorways, the hostages, the dograbbits, and the stairwell to the upper floor. Better come up with some exit plan, and fast - with or without this chatty roboman. They've probably got about a minute and a half left. ---- scrunt fairly comprehensive plan from Mung means TEAM CONTROL CENTRE have escaped and will be able to make their way shortly to the next combat. no further input required, and only one tech use roll for the demolitions! TEAM ACID BATH do ok; grimply and drekk successfully get themselves onto the wall. if phoon reappears gumbo can be thrown the grapple and can join them; if not, he'll drown in acid. no further input required otherwise; this team'll be heading to the next combat shortly. congrats on not dying through lucky strength tests i have left it intentionally vague as to whether the chematifuge was licked by a scrunt or by a dograbbit. TEAM HOSTAGE SCRUM don't really do much other than plan; you got some documents from the dude, that tell you there's some weird missiley cargo on the shuttle at the central landing bay. so, from inference - is your plan to basically boobytrap the hostages with flame and chem grenades and then dive out an upstairs window - gravchuted and wrapped in a camo cloak - once they barrel in and get eaten by dograbbits? this is perfectly viable, i just need to know.
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Aug 16, 2016 23:10
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that is absolutely my plan, yes.
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Aug 16, 2016 23:24
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Ignite Memories posted:that is absolutely my plan, yes. I'm not even part of that group but yes, this is absolutely the plan.
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Aug 17, 2016 09:47
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Resuscitation, Normal European Church Continued The Refinery Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysPtBjY8o_A It's executed like clockwork. The negotiator argues back and forth with the insane gravelly voice within the building for long enough to allow the scene commander to get his men in position. Four breach teams whack the office doors off their hinges with blows of their sledgehammers as a corps of armsmen, shields and shock-mauls in hand, barrel into the central office space. A secondary squad of carabiniers filter in past them, covering all angles with the potential for withering suppressive fire, as the regular Severan infantry follow close behind, fanning out and clearing side-rooms and cubbyholes. All that's missing is the enemy. It's pretty obvious they've retreated upstairs, but now they're contained - and have, apparently, left all their hostages in the centre of the administration centre along with some truly remarkable piles of scat - they are more of a secondary concern. The upstairs windows are mounted about ten metres above ground level, and it's all concrete outside. They're not going anywhere. For now, the priority is to secure the hostages. That one's wearing the robes of the Chematifuge and keeps making grunting noises, so let's get that hood off and- The squad sergeant stares in horror at the cannister wedged down the goggle-eyed Chematifuge's throat as it begins to emit a noxious, orange smoke. Starting back, he stumbles into a nearby adept, jostling him and triggering the firebomb lashed to his ankles. Glass crashes from upstairs as coruscating flames engulf the group and choking, blistering gas begins to flay the weeping, screaming breach squads. The sergeant's last thought, as his joints lock, armour catches alight and eyeballs start to melt, is a strange, vague curiosity as to what's all that barking? ---- "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" It was such a simple plan. Trap the hostages, huddle under the camo cloak, activate the gravchute, and use Groin's grapnel-arm to fasten themselves onto that tree. In the meantime, the dograbbits could be loosed downstairs to cause some havoc and generally make things interesting. The only downsides... well, there were several. The scrunts didn't have a camo cloak big enough for all of them, for one thing - they'd managed the torsos, but their legs and asses were left dangling in the metaphorical breeze. Nor were any of them properly trained in gravchute operation. So, when the scrunts quickly lashed themselves together - Grug enjoying the process far more than Groin or Grumb, who squirmed with visible discomfort in his clammy embrace - none of them recognised that the gravchute had been grotesquely overdialled. The grapnel's ratchet motor, at full blast, was sufficient to drag a hundred kilos vertically five metres every six seconds. When you're dragging the equivalent of ten kilos horizontally... things tend to get a little bit more... speedy ---- It's bedlam outside. Troopers are screaming and dying everywhere; the turret system's gone haywire and is slaughtering the garrison to a man. Tech adepts desperately fight to get the situation under control, but man after red-robed man slumps in front of interface ports, brains burned out from dark-age ICE. To cap it all, there's reports of an incursion from the foul powers of the Empyrean - several squads have, separately, and between bouts of vomiting, just reported a strange trio of shrieking and hideous asses hurtling over the camp in a meteoric trajectory. No torsos were in evidence. The troops by the central lander bay grasp their weapons and wait nervously, prayers on lips and eyes on the shadows. Hardened veterans all, even they're starting to feel the pressure - but, in five minutes' time, they'll have the pre-flight checks on the Aquila completed, and they'll be able to get out of this hellhole. ------ scrunt looks like TEAM HOSTAGE MELTDOWN are blasting off again!! tech use for demo on the grenade traps works perfectly; Operate Aeronautica for the gravchute fails hilariously. on the plus side you're going so fast that you don't get shot by turrets. i'm basically herding you guys into fighting the troops guarding the aquila lander, so have fun. teams PUNGENT BATH and VIRAL INTERLOPER will emerge from vents and scurry to cover for combat's start - team HOSTAGE MELTDOWN will drift slowly downwards into cover from their gravchute escapade for combat's start. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:10 on Aug 17, 2016 |
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Aug 17, 2016 21:02
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| # ? May 16, 2024 19:22 |
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Mungly Mung Wounds: 12/12 Fate: 2/2 Mung, upon seeing light at the end of the vent shaft, cleverly thinks to cause a bit more mischief as they all pop out. He loads another couple of songs of his people up and warms up his signal jammer to blare out upon the the lander guards. --- Setting up the signal jammer to play when we spring our ambush. The guards will not be able to radio for help over the soothing melodies of the scruntsaphone. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 00:24 on Aug 18, 2016 |
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Aug 18, 2016 00:15
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