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The Sound And The Fury The Forest Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBfD1-aOiwI Dak scramples to his feet. It's a bit like scrambling, only with more angry stamping and gesticulating with a length of pipe wrench. Urok rampages. He is a scrunt pushed to the limit. With a roar, he drops his flamer and smashes his gloves together, and lashes out with a fearsome one-two punch aimed squarely at groin height! Both punches connect solidly (35, 16 against WS 43 + 30 all-out attack - 10 two weapon fighting = 63) as the sarge fails to dodge in time (77 vs sarge's ag - 20) and cannot parry due to his altered mindset. The left jab tickles the sarge slightly as the shock capacitors fail to engage (soaked entirely by armour and toughness), but the right glove's apparently got enough juice for two as it discharges savagely straight into the sarge's junk! (jesus christ you righteous furied on an attack to the bollocks). The abused human's eyes roll back in his sockets and he sinks to the ground, twitching, and probably out of the fight.  OOC: OK, you criticalled him into being stunned for one round, and then you shocked him into being stunned for three more rounds. Realistically, he's at your mercy - any scrunt can kill him off automatically if they spend a half-action next to him to slit his throat. No-one's got any manacles, have they? Groin struggles and scratches against the three choking hands clamping across his neck. Wait, three hands? With a hiss he manages to persuade his bionic arm to stop attacking its host, and instead turn its attentions to the large, angry man on top of him. Groin continues the assault on all things testicular, and his metal talons clamp down like pistons on the ballsack of the unfortunate trooper (36 vs strength of 39 = 1 DoS!). The frenzied maniac doesn't take the slightest bit of notice! (2 vs PDF strength means he wins the opposed strength roll by a lot!). Groin's eyes bulge as desperately as the trooper's scrotum as the choking continues. OOC: no damage done yet; that will come on the gunner's turn. Hey, at least he's not shooting at you. Muffled whimpering comes from the passenger compartment of the Chimera, but no-one is really in a position to pay it much mind. --------- Waiting on Grimply before I do more actions, but because the sarge is basically dead now you may wish to focus efforts elsewhere. Please stop scrunting people in the testicles it's uncouth. If you've already posted actions that now no longer apply, lemme know what you want to do instead. Chimera rear hatch door is still hanging open, if you can catch it. I mean, it's probably going to try to ram you, so it'll be close, at least. Don't think you can really do much to it at range, so you're going to have to get on it or get in it and sort the frenzied driver out. Alternatively you guys could try to kill the fellow currently choking the living poo poo out of Groin - I will say that you only hit Groin on 90+ for this, because he's flat on his back and the gunner's mounted him. The gunner's kinda still half in the hatch and Groin's maglocked down, so they won't fall off the chimera no matter how it moves. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 22:29 on Nov 18, 2014 |
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Nov 18, 2014 22:27
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Grumb Slanger, in righteous pursuit Ah, feck, they's gettin' 'way! Grumb hisses as he scrambles out of the brambles, sustaining minor cuts and bruises from his heroic charge. He makes a break for the chimera, desperate to reach melee range before everybody is done choking each other. ---------- Grumb would like to make a full move action toward the chimera with the intention of hopping into the rear hatch. I'm not really sure if that calls for a skill roll, or anything, so you can roll one for me if it seems appropriate
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Nov 18, 2014 22:45
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Grimply, in the houses, being a scrunt Grimply is feeling pretty good for a change, because his second shot punched right through a humie. His Ol' Scrunt Eye needed a bit to warm up as it seems. Peering through his scope, the next set of events surprise and entertain him, as he can see the Chimera jumping forward and crashing into something, and then he can see nothing because some white stuff suddenly blocks his view. Using his eyes instead of the scope, he realizes that it's a lot of smoke. "Tha fack? Which of dese scrunts made that happen?" he asks the universe in general. He realignes his sight, and finds out that the trail of smoke comes from the turret of the chimera. He can see Groin that seems to be wrestling with a humie. This angers him a bit, because he gave Groin his magic boots to kill humies, not to have a fun wrestling match with them. He flicks the zoom wheel of his scope, intent on giving Groin a warning shot to break up his fun wrestling match, but then he can see that Groin is actually being choked by the humie who has a really weird look in his eys. And then it dawns on him... "Bollocks, tha humie is trying ta steal me boots! Facking boot thieving humie, oi got ya in me sights!" ---------------- I assume that I'm not hindered by the smoke, so apply whatever modifier if I am Half action to aim, and another half to shoot the boot thief 79 vs [85(45+10+10+10+10)] which barely hits lol Damage to a random location = 3+3 Energy because I suck Also I like that you keep posting songs that I also like, schlong   Tin Tim fucked around with this message at 23:06 on Nov 18, 2014 |
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Nov 18, 2014 23:03
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Gumbo Bulge, somewhere smokey. Gumbo gives Urok a hosed up thumbs up as the Sergeant collapses, quivering. "Noice." All thats left is the Tank. Gumbo hikes up his trousers and takes off at his quickest scrunty waddle-run after the Chimera. Gumbo will also run for the rear hatch
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Nov 18, 2014 23:13
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Urok The Dropsite Massacre It was a curse, to be under the bright light of this clean world, estranged from the natual darkness and hugging walls of his home tunnel. The pressure behind his temples, worming its way within his skull was temporarily relived as he watched the Sargents spastic form collapse upon itself. A price paid in anothers pain for a few moments of solace from the nails of agony within his mind. He stands, the ticking thrum of his active shock gloves snapping him back to the present. The Chimera begins to maneuver as Urok springs into action, boots smacking the ground as he gives chase, intent upon buying respite at the cost of the driver and gunners lives. __________________________________________________________________ im not sure if I need to take action/complete a turn to get on the chimera, and THAN attack but I wanna get on and punch some people.
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Nov 19, 2014 20:49
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AAAaaAAAaaAAAAAAAGHGGGHAAAAAGH The Forest Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFl7fxovBl0 Grimply lightly toasts the arm of the rampaging gunner, removing part of his treasured "I <3 SEVERUS" tattoo! This cunning attempt at psychological warfare saps his will to fight! (shot did 2 damage) With a whirr of tortured gears and a cherry-red clutch, the Chimera then uproots the treestump and continues its sweeping curve. The smoke clears sufficiently for the driver to realise that there's no raging fire in the back of the passenger compartment, but there still remains the raging fire in her heart. Choking with rage she spots mis-shapen figures racing out of the murk towards her. Naturally, she floors the accelerator again in an attempt to run them down. Gumbo's eyes widen to almost normal size as the dozer blade of the APC comes careening towards him. It's at nowhere near the speed necessary for a full-blown, red-pancake, distressingly-large-roadkill ram, but those spikes are sharp! Gumbo avoids being skewered but doesn't quite get out of the way in time (47 vs untrained dodge at 12), opting instead to leap up and thud into the front armour of the Chimera. By landing on his face he mitigates the worst of the damage (did a greatly lessened ram attack and all the damage got soaked), and clings tenaciously to the front of the tank with one hand, brandishing his chainsword in the other. OOC: kinda reskinned a dodge and a move all into one. You are now on, rather than in, the tank. Next turn you are in a position to either go for the driver or for the gunner, up to you. I know you wanted the rear hatch but the tank had other ideas. The gunner, Jace, continues his frenzied assault on Groin, ignoring the equally frenzied assault on his own. His muscles bulge, as does his ballsack, as he batters Groin's head against the roof of the Chimera. The scrunt begins to see stars, and his struggles grow weaker. OOC: Groin takes 1 damage and 1 level of fatigue after completely loving up another opposed strength test by like eight degrees! You are now at -10 to all actions until you can have an hour's rest! Technically this guy wounded you in the non-bionic arm but whatever. Jace rears back for a killing strike, but chooses his timing extremely poorly. Scurrilous has been enthusiastically firing in the general direction of the Chimera, and by an absolute fluke (5 vs "ok I'll give him a one-in-twenty chance of actually doing anything useful oh gently caress dammit jesus") his uncontrolled burst of fire stitches jagged holes across Jace's chest (two shots actually did damage, causing 7 points of damage in all). The human reels from the impact and from loss of blood, and appears to be on his last legs. OOC: drat you  Grumb , with un-scruntly agility, barrels from the bushes and swings himself up into the Chimera's troop compartment as it hurtles past. There looks to be a hefty bulkhead-style door leading to the compartment the driver would share with the hull gunner (if there was one) - it'll probably be locked for combat, but it's probably nothing that a terrifying, unnaturally muscly scrunt can't handle. There's also a whimpering human clutching his broken arm braced in the corner, but he's probably fine where he is.Kreb and Dak watch inscrutably as Urok joins Gumbo on the front of the Chimera. With a roar he batters at the viewslits, and manages to force an arm inside! (17 vs 40 Strength - 20 [difficulty]) He swipes animalistically at the driver, who snaps and slavers at his outstretched arm! OOC: alright we're waiting on Kreb + Dak actions, and Urok managed to somehow snap off enough bits of the viewport that he and Gumbo can make melee attacks, at a penalty, on the driver. The Sarge dreams of better days, as electricity coruscates through his lower body. The Chimera's track passes inches from his head as it thunders past. ---------- when in doubt, jump onto the tank and hold on for dear life.  alright so you've basically covered the chimera in scrunts. the driver can't see where she's going and she's still accelerating because she's still insane. the drugs will wear off after her next turn, after which she will realise the reality of her situation. i would suggest dealing with this set of affairs as quickly as possible. also moola is dying pls help him Dak and Kreb you still have actions for this round. I have delayed them for now. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 23:00 on Nov 19, 2014 |
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Nov 19, 2014 22:04
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Groin Sklunger The Chimera Battle Groin no longer has any energy left to fight off the crazed human. His robotic arm automatically rummages around inside his pants for something, anything useful to improve the situation. It finds a pair of massive reflective stunna shades and puts them on his face. This doesn't appear to help the situation at all but it does make Groin feel very cool. He manages to utter out a single sentence as the world slowly begins to fade black: "Awwwww.... yissss...." he whispers. _________ Groin is at the mercy of the madman and isn't even going to try and struggle any more. But he looks pretty rad.
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Nov 19, 2014 23:39
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Dak Rugby, Chimera Drag Race Dak hauls scrunt-rear end to the Chimera and pulls his shambling mass atop it. He notices Groin's fantastic shades, which remind him he just wasted his opportunity to attack the drugged up human. __________________ Dak's going in, hoping to at least get some pressure off Groin.
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Nov 20, 2014 00:11
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Grimply, in the houses, scrunting mad, again Grimply follows the trail of his shot, convinced that his aim is true. But again, and to his anger, his lasbolt only lightly zings his target. And then he snaps. "Fack! The fack is up with me facking rifle this facking fack..." and so on. He also throws his rifle on the ground and stomps on it for good measure. Whatever is wrong with his rifle is probably not helped by that, but he needs to vent and scrunts have no real concept of proper equipment handling. Also, Flet is cowering during this and shields his head with the holy scrunt book, out of fear of getting smacked again. Panting, and with some of his rage leaving, Grimply stands over his mistreated rifle and then remembers something. Didn't Scurrilous tinker with his rifle before all of this? Yes, he in fact did! Grimply whips around and sees Scurrilous one building over, and yells "OI! Ya fackin git ruined me rifle it can't kill anymore! What tha fack did ye do? Ye said you made me sight better! Ye lying git I'll get ye!" Scurrilous gives him a befuddled look, and then shrugs his shoulders with a half hearted "Eh." Grimply is stonefaced for a second, and before he can point all his rage towards Scurrilous, another thought enters his mind "Me boots!" ooc: I'm not changing my scrunt beef/love, because Scurrilous actually made my sight a tiny bit better and did nothing to the hosed up damage rolls of my gun. Grimply will realize this later ---------------- Half action to aim, and another half to shoot the boot thieving scrunt choker = 35 vs [85(45+10+10+10+10)] which gives me the extra 2 D10 again thank god Damage to a random location = 21+3 Energy let's see him soak that poo poo Tin Tim fucked around with this message at 00:28 on Nov 20, 2014 |
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Nov 20, 2014 00:25
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I did an action last page, although I don't know if it's relevant anymore or if it needs to be changed. If the sarge isn't a relevant target anymore can I use this action to try and shoot a burst through the open back of the tank?FirstPersonShitter posted:Pernicious Kreb, Dropsite Massacre
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Nov 20, 2014 01:05
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Basically I can still use that on the gunner instead of the sarge, but now you're shooting into melee with a weapon that could easily kill Groin if it hits him - it is however incredibly unlikely to hit him. I want to make sure you're still cool with that! Shooting a full auto burst into the back of the tank is also possible because Grumb hasn't yet dived in there by the time you take your action. Not sure what you're going for though other than trying to kill that dude with the broken arm. e: durr me am dum you actually did rolls and they're enough to not hit Groin. I'll roll with that.
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Nov 20, 2014 09:01
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The End The Forest Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMXFu4d36Dk Kreb blazes away, oozing gleeful drool from his scaly little beak as Dak scampers up the side of the Chimera, swinging himself onto the roof like the chimp that all the other apes throw poo poo at. The medic braces himself for an attack by the frenzied gunner, but instead is greeted by a charred set of limbs. He flinches away as a leg rolls off the chimera, and makes a snatch at an arm to keep for later. Kreb's curious rifle has essentially vaporised the torso of the turret gunner with two lucky bolts. Groin moans theatrically as his bionic arm makes flapping motions. Dak gives him a cursory glance and scowls. The mincing little sod wasted his time for this! Grimply has had his target taken away from him. He sighs in relief as his boots remain safe for another day, but is also a bit peeved. He vents his frustration on a stunningly lucky hit to the rear of the Chimera - his shot lances out, deep into the interior of the vehicle, whistling past Grumb's ear and burning out some crucial wiring for the motive system. The APC genuinely won't be able to take many more shots like that before its structure is compromised to the point its systems begin to fail. OOC: snipers can damage tanks if they get behind them and roll well! Might wanna remember that if you go up against lightly-armoured vehicles! If you'd righteous furied and got extremely lucky you genuinely could have immobilised it in one shot, as with absolute top-tier rolls you can probably knock out a track on anything up to a Leman Russ. That's like a 0.005% chance though Gumbo and Urok cling on for dear life as the driver, Unna, swerves and veers. Her vision is obscured by scrunts, and she lurches the wheel hard to the right in an attempt to shake the little shits off her vehicle. Urok clings on tenaciously (13 vs strength 40), Dak desperately clutches at Groin's anchored legs, but the natural oils in Gumbo's skin work to his disadvantage and he loses his grip, flying off the Chimera and landing in a crumpled heap on the concrete road! (90 vs strength lmao). Thankfully the APC isn't actually travelling all that fast as it veers madly left and right, and other than some nasty road rash the scrunt is fine (after toughness soak you only take 2 damage). The grim reality of her situation sets in, and Unna begins to go into shock as rational thought begins creeping back. Her only thought is flight! Flight from these horrible little things! Grumb is in a unique position to stymie her plans, what with holding a great big machinegun and only being separated from her by a puny, massive door! The injured human sharing the passenger compartment whimpers some more, and tries to scuffle further away from the hulking midget. ------ The tank's driving off with all you scrunts still on it!  OK: gunner is dead! Honestly, at this point the combat is pretty much over - scrunts swarm the chimera, other scrunts watch aimlessly. If y'all prefer we can have one last narrative action from Urok, Grumb and Dak to bring this to a dramatic close ("my scrunt hauls the driver out through the window and flings her into the bushes where she breaks her neck and is devoured by stoats"), or you can scrunt it out to the bitter end using combat rules if you really want everyone else to have nothing to do for ages. Start thinking about what you want to do after combat (it is assumed you will loot the corpses, and the chimera). And I don't just mean "I use tech-use to make a titan out of the remains!!", I mean priorities for your character. You've been dropped on an apparently hostile planet (in fairness you attacked first) with limited weaponry, supplies, absolutely no information, no way of contacting "friendly" imperial troops, no apparent goals, and a bunch of useless scrunts. You have no promethium refineries secreted in your backpacks, but thankfully Chimeras run on drat near anything, so scrunts chopping wood will do in a pinch. Get better/more fuel, get a longer range. You also have a bunch of footslogging civilians, far too many to fit in the Chimera - they might want transport, too. Perhaps you want to make a fort? Steal a helicopter and become airborne cavalry? Get headscarves and become an insurgent terrorist group? Loot a church? Tip cows? Sell scrunty blankets to the natives? Find more scrunts and become warlords? Ditch these scrunts and become scrunt-hunters? I will not keep track of every drat lasgun and clip you loot. Instead any matériel, other than the exotic stuff ("Hey, a rocket launcher!") you find will go into the custody of Geoffrey, a scrunt with a wheelbarrow and a knowing grin. This will be to your benefit. I will explain later. So: once we deal with your immediate after-combat actions and celebrations, we'll divvy out XP and whatever strange loot you find, we will deal with "requisitioning" new supplies, and we will start thinking where to scrunt off to next.
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Nov 20, 2014 22:16
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Grumb Slanger, passenger compartment Grumb prepares to wrench open the hatch and pulp the driver with machine gun fire, when the whimpering piss-drenched human in the corner draws his eye. He points Betsy at the wretched thing, intent on putting it out of its misery - He begins to mutter, then scream incoherently as he tightens his grip around the trigger, and then... nothing. There, in the rumbling belly of the lightly charred, squealing chimera, something stays grumb's hand. The infantile huddled posture of this defenseless, wounded animal inspires something within him that he's never felt before - was it pity? Unfamiliar emotions course through grumb's underdeveloped brain, shattering his very perception of right and wrong. In his eagerness to build a new world, had grumb lost sight of what kind of world he wanted to create? He slings his gun back over his shoulder, tucking it under his hep-rat-fur mantle. An expression of rapt wonder on his face, grumb lifts up his cyberpunk sunglasses as he slowly takes a couple steps toward the human. AAAUUUUGGHHHHH!! the human yelps as it curls its mangled limbs tighter into a ball. It peers at him from behind its quivering hands. Grumbs expression of profound vacancy turns to one of terrifying compassion as he pats the human on its fractured shoulder. Thur, thurr, m'not herr ta hurrt'chah. Giv' ol dang ol uncle grumb dem... giv dem grumb dem dang ol, bring it in! Trapped in the most uncomfortable embrace of his short, horrifying existence, the human begins to strongly reconsider his life choices. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 06:43 on Nov 21, 2014 |
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Nov 21, 2014 03:38
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Pernicious Kreb, Blood Blood Blood Kreb lowers his gun, pointing to Pelt and gesturing with severe eyes for him to guard it, and scampers out of the buses like the wall-crawling dead toilet baby from Trainspotting. He reaches the assorted corpses and begins to feast on their super-heated gore.
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Nov 21, 2014 22:48
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Scurrilous Scruntson The Massite Dropsacre Scurrilous sits contently watching the fight in/on the Chimera. But suddenly his forgotten about companion Grimply starts screaming at the Technoscrunt just as the goings on on the APC get good! "Oi! Feck yew, ya cross-eyed oval office! Mehbe shoot at the feckers next time!" he shouts back at the Sniper. Turning back towards the melee Scurrilous is disappointed to find the vehicle has been brought to a halt as the last remaining humans are brought to heel. "Save a leg fer' me!" the Technoscrunt bellows as loud as he can as he dives off the half-story he had taken refuge on. Scurrilous loses himself in his duties. Regardless of whatever the other Scrunts decide to do, he takes stock of the Chimera's condition as well as attempts to take a tally of any potential upgrades he might make to the newly acquired vehicle. _________ Tech-Use: 26 vs 60 (Int+10[Utility Mechndrite]) to determine what condition the Chimera is in. Then another Tech-Use: 20 vs 60 (Int+10[Utility Mechndrite]) to determine a list of possible upgrades that would take less than two hours.
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Nov 23, 2014 07:00
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Urok The Dropsite Massacre The Chimera revs, bouncing Urok against the hull as the panicked driver attempts to throw him off. Muscles honed in long bouts of mortal combat with rocks in his homeworlds tunnels, ages spent making large rocks into smaller rocks allow Uruok to maintain his iron grip. His shock gloves sparking against the metal hull, Urok lashes out through the hole in the tanks armor, seeking to connect his discharging gloves to the drivers skull __________________________________________________________________ Roll for attack on the driver Scrunty Shock Gloves (1d10 + SB, pen 0, Shocking - take damage from a shocking weapon that round, must succeed +0 T test or be Stunned for 1 round per DoF, can dual wield, don't require grip)
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Nov 24, 2014 03:41
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Grimply, in the houses, just scrunting Grimply had a rough day so far. Not only did the strange planet he landed on turn out to be not slam at all, but his trusted Ol' Scrunt Eye rifle left him hanging too. He's torn between seething rage and crippling doubt, so he turns to the one thing that he can always depend on. He snatches the worn book from Flet's shaking hands, and flips it open at a random spot. What he reads is enough to bring his psychosis ridden mind back into some form of balance. "Aye. Tha scruntfather tests me and 'is ways are mysterious." he mutters. With his mind at ease, Grimply surveys the battlefield. It seems like all the humies are dead, and most importantly, his boots are safe. They probably have some humie guts on them, but that doesn't matter. Just as he's about to set off to collect his boots, he hears Scurrilous yell over to him. He recalls that he shouted at him earlier too, and now realizes that Scurrilous probably isn't responsible for the lovely performance of his rifle. Scurrilous only tinkered with his scope, as he remembers. Grimply is now faced with a unique situation, because he feels a strange emotion for a scrunt. He is kinda sorry. "Oi, laddie. Ehrm...Ya know...Well...I didn't...Uhh...Tha scruntfather blesses you!" is all he can muster before waddling off the collect his boots. ------------- Since I don't really have helpful skills for the chimera, I think I should scout the surrounding area a bit, and see if I can make out signs of a town or something. Not sure if this would be Navigation Surface(which is kinda lovely for me), or Awareness(which is good for me) Also, I wanna place some of my crude traps while I'm out and about, to catch a few tiny animals that we can throw in with the human stew Kreb and I are probably going to make.
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Nov 25, 2014 18:35
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The Aftermath The Forest Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdcskfqXH5I Urok squeezes his arm through the gap in the Chimera's viewslit just as its wheels go over an unfortunate tuft of grass. Unna is flung forward in her seat, and is caught in the temple by Urok's wild flailings. Her skull crumples like a soggy napkin and she slumps further forward. Eventually, the Chimera rumbles to a halt. The scrunts slowly relax their grip on the tank, and seem unsure as to what to do next. It is unknown how many times they have actually been on the winning end of a fight. Insofar as it is possible to tell, they seem to be thinking about things. Maybe they're learning. ------- Several hours later Scrunts wander aimlessly around the dropsite, staring at bushes or aimlessly clubbing at chunks of metal. Guns go un-reloaded, wounds go un-tended. Off in the distance to the west, the battered and broken sergeant slowly drags himself back to civilisation by his good arm, cigar stub clenched between splintered molars. Drag. Groan. Rest. None of the scrunts have quite gathered the wherewithal to interfere with him, although should the thought strike them it could easily spell his doom. OOC: MAYBE ACTUALLY POST WHAT YOU WANT TO DO WITH THIS GUY HUH Not much has happened. Grumb emerged from the rear of the Chimera carrying a bawling human in his arms just in time to see Kreb begin his grisly feast. It appears to have shocked the trooper into a state of mute terror, and he and Grumb both sit together by a tree, gibbering faintly and staring at nothing. Kreb currently reclines under a bush, full to bursting on fresh flesh, pawing at his false beard and drowsily thinking scrunt thoughts. Only Grimply and Scurrilous appear to have the drive to do anything, possibly due to their previous distance from the recent melee. Grimply, abashed, busies himself scrunting around the nearby forest, searching for points of interest in the distance and roaming across four or five miles of country. It's quite damp, drizzly and leafy, limiting his vision somewhat, but he is able to make out broken country and hills to the north, a downward gradient to the south, and a smokey haze interspersed with flashes of light from something over the horizon to the east. There are no urban centres within easy walking distance that he can see, although cottages dot the hillsides here and there. The scrunt marshalls his faculties in preparation for describing his surrounds to other, more urban scrunts - there are things called farms where food comes from. Some of these "farms" grow food that stays in one place, whereas others grow walking food. Maybe these are the first kind, or maybe the food has walked off somewhere. He doesn't know. He leaves a few snares out to capture walking-food just in case, and robs a couple of birds nests for some walking-around snacks.  awww Scurrilous, meanwhile, is a blur of activity. He scampers towards the Chimera, robes flailing behind him, coming perilously close to revealing more of a scrunt than most would wish to see. His robot companion lurches and totters behind him, wheely-ing over tussocks and rocks and gouting smoke from his exhaust. Over the next couple of hours, Scurrilous gives the Chimera a once-over, then a twice-over, then a work-over. In an effort to make it more roomy he removes some obviously pointless regulatory mechanisms, and overclocks the hydraulic fuel compressors until they're keening at a more acceptable pitch. He welds a few of the more egregious holes shut, and secrets a small thumbtack right in the middle of the driver's seat, chuckling scruntily to himself. He takes stock of the vehicle in front of him: quote:LOOTED PDF CHIMERA THIRD CLASS, CODENAME "_____________" The scrunt soars on the wings of inspiration. Why, with the right supplies, and with enough time, he could make this vehicle amphibious as a Chimera is meant to be, or he could add guns, or reinforce its armour, or install enhanced command and control capabilities, or... SCR-417 edges faintly away from the gnashing scrunt, and tries to ignore its moans. It instead attempts to concentrate on the crackling of the Chimera's radio. Other scrunts appear to be blearily emerging from their reveries. A large group of civilian scrunts appear to be busying themselves with a jettisoned retro-rocket from the drop pod. With a roar and a whoop they get the thing working again, incinerating a young scrunt too slow to get out of the way - it shudders and whines, but the rocket holds fast to the side of the pod. Given enough fuel, they will have a forge! Other scrunty family groups look like they're collecting scrap metal. In the absence of any other input, the scrunts look like they will simply set up shop in the middle of this forest, easily visible from the road and with no real fresh source of supplies, sustenance or booze. Decisions should probably be made about what to do next. Wounds need patching, prisoners need seeing to, and these idiot civilian scrunts need some direction. ---------------- do stuff you fags. Update your charsheets with grenades/wounds taken if you haven't already. If you don't do it I'll know and I'll come stare through your windows. You all get 500XP for good scruntin' and for good stuff on the ship before planetfall. Check the recruitment thread in a bit for how to spend this. You're all currently on 0xp except Grumb who's on negatives thanks to my cheating, so you should all have 500 to spend except him. In terms of immediate stuff to do I'm guessing you'll all reload and clear jams, but Dak will actually have to roll to do medic stuff. You have a prisoner to interrogate, another one who's currently slowly escaping, and a bunch of scrunts currently engaged in making a shanty town in a really loving stupid and obvious place. The Chimera also has a recieve/broadcast radio - presumably it's tuned to Severan channels at the moment but you could also see what other broadcasts are on. Perhaps some social skills could be used to deal with all of these states of affairs! Grimply has done a bit o' scouting, but he only had a couple of hours to do so. There is nothing immediately nearby that he spotted. You can scrount more the next game day if you want - the chimera covers more ground, but is more obvious. For context - you should have picked this up from, y'know, the intro and everything, but you are a bunch of scrunts hurled into civilian territory behind the front lines of Severan forces, who are up against an Imperial fighting retreat. There's no huge buildup of forces around here, hence why a bunch of PDF were despatched to check you out rather than, say, a crack infantry company, but basically the more noise you make and stuff you loot, the more you'll go up against, and the more pressure you'll take off the imperials, and the happier the imperials will be. So while you can tool around in the chimera blazing the multilaser at trees, you might find yourself in a position to have to use it for more serious endeavours. The scrunts also have a forge. Equipment may be forthcoming. If you want them to set up Scrunttown as a home base that's perfectly fine, but you'll have to actively work towards that through, like, plans and rolls and stuff, it won't happen automatically.
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Nov 25, 2014 21:20
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Dak Rugby, Chimera Drag Race Dak shakes his head, trying to clear out the scrunt post-fight fugue. Dak puts away his truncheon and makes sure his scrunt rifle is reloaded. "Time ta get doctorin..." Dak mutters. Strangely, Dak does not say the words out loud, but within his own head. Dak trundles over to Urok, and begins his dread labors. "Oi, Urok, them tank fellas got here pretty quick. How close ya figure they live? Think that guy'll make it back?" Dak gestures at the crawling Sarge. ______________________ Medicae roll to heal Urok, Roll is 7 vs. 70 (50 Int + 20 from Diagnosticator), so 6 degrees of success unless I scrunted up the order of operations.
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Nov 25, 2014 23:49
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Groin Sklunger Around the Looted Schrimera (Scrunt Chimera) Groin has spent the last few hours since the battle resting on the grass near the looted Chimera. Occasionally he would wake up and moan loudly about his incredibly grievous injuries he sustained in the battle, nobody really seems to notice or care; although Jekk has spent the last few hours loyally sat by Groin's side, absently mindedly staring into the distance. Eventually he properly wakes up as the noise from Scurrilous tinkering with the Schrimera gets his attention. "Oooer, was 'e up to en" says Groin. Jekk farts a compassionate response. Slowly at first, Groin crawls on all fours along the floor, then clambers up the side of the Schrimera like a hideous hosed up giant insect. Now back on the roof, Groin peers over the side and stares intently at Scurrilous handy work. "Fucker better not break me ride" Groin thinks to himself. ____ Groin is basically just creeping on Scurrilous and wants to see what he's going to do with the Schrimera. Also he left the Magboots attached to the top of the tank after the battle. I assume the few hours rest since the battle will also have taken care of his Level 1 Fatigue.
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Nov 26, 2014 01:31
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Urok The Chimera Urok wheezes as he releases his grip in the Chimera, dropping heavily to the ground. Gleefully, he licks the drivers blood from his deactivated shock gloves, seared bits of brain matter and brittle bone cracking between his teeth. He rounds as Dak approaches, startled, wincing in pain with the movement. " Dak" Urok breathes, his voice thick with saliva, drooling blood and spit down himself and grunts "Hurt, help, brother" Urok stills as Dak performs his ministrations, eyes tracking the glacial Sargent as Dak pokes and prods him. Dak finishes, with a grunt of appreciation Urok lumbers toward the Sargent. "my kill, brother, yours when I done" Urok licks his lips, running his tongue over chips of bone, savoring the taste of blood, twitching. Bolts arcs from his shock gloves as he reignites them, lightning kisses the crawling Sargent as Urok touches the gloves to his battered body. The Sargent collapses, limp, as Urok removes the smoldering cigar and eats it. He sifts through the Sarges pockets, uncaring if the Sargent is dead or unconscious. __________________________________________________________________ I will update EXP, wounds, etc tomorrow. I dont care if the Sargent is live or dead but Urok wants to loot the body. I don't know if my looting action or stun have any required rolls. I figure the dude is on the ground,no way to resist so make it a narrative action?
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Nov 26, 2014 04:54
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Gumbo Bulge, lying on the road. After finally rolling to a halt, Gumbo takes a few minutes to enjoy the feel of the road against his face. It feels just like his bed in his boyhood home, which was also made of road. There's things to do though, so he hops to his feet, checks his equipment, dusts off his uniform and starts looking for Scrunts to order around. First he waddles over to the nearest group of civilians, now milling around aimlessly at the side of the road. He grabs a passing Scruntling by the scruff of his arm-neck and hoists him into the air. "Big meetin in fifteen minutes. Go an tell t'others, one frum each family. By tha tank" The Scruntling looks puzzled, so Gumbo swings him around to face the Chimera, punctuating his words by shaking the Scruntling aggressively in its direction. "Tha tank! With tha wheels" The Scruntling gibbers something that might be understanding, so Gumbo hurls him in the direction of the nearest Scrunt group and then heads over to the Chimera himself. He has a short conversation with an overenthusiastic Scurrilous to ascertain the state of the vehicle, and is satisfied by the results, though slightly disconcerted by the top half of Groin's face peering at him suspiciously from above. He passes Grumb and his new companion, and instructs him to meet at the Chimera in a few minutes. He tries to make the frightened human feel welcome by patting him on the head, but this just seems to distress the creature more, so he heads over to Dak and Urok to show the medic his light injuries from the earlier tumble. There is a sizzling sound from Urok's direction. "Got sum scrapes, doc. Whas Urok doin to tha fella?" I'm calling a general meeting of Scrunts to discuss our next move and instruct the civilians
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Nov 26, 2014 23:55
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Pernicious Kreb, The Fatal Feast Kreb, now fatted on gore, has finished his grisly banquet. He was sure to eat the eyes of all his opponents, to bind their souls to him as servants in the scrunt afterlife, sucking them from their heads with a toe-curling pop. He hasn't tasted meat this good in a long time, although the lack of maggots in it did somewhat affect the flavour. While possessed of a kind of base, animal cunning, Kreb is a simple creature, and has really only two priorities in life: Food and Loot. Now that food (and a kind of metaphysical loot) is finished with, it's time to move on to the more concrete sort of loot. He signals to Pelt, who is currently scraping paint from the chimera's outer hull and attempting to smoke it using a piece of scrap and the chimera's cigarette lighter, to begin gathering the spoils of war into the traditional pile. Kreb is aware, but unhappy, that he will have to share this loot. He also calls over the helpful wheelbarrow scrunt, to prevent any of the other untrustworthy scrunts from stealing anything before he can steal it.
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Nov 27, 2014 19:20
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Grimply, near the scruntmera On his way to the chimera, Grimply took charge of calming any random scrunts that he met. Most of them are still excited about the cool battle and the prospect of tasty humie bits, but slowly the realization that this planet isn't the slam sector sets in. Grimply tells them that it's okay though, and that the scruntfather wants them to make this strange and horrible world into their own slam sector. Seeing the destruction and crispy humies around them, the scrunts tend to believe him. Eventually he reaches the chimera, and clumsily climbs on top of it to get his boots back. They indeed have some humie guts on them, but Grimply just violently shakes the boots before putting them back on. He also tells Groin to not have fun wrestling matches next time. A fight just isn't the right time for something like that. Before climbing back down, he gives Scurrilous a hesistant nod, who is currently enthusiastically hammering on the chimera. Just as Grimply is about to leave, he hears a strange and crackling voice. This voice sounds very different from the ones he usually hears, and also seems to be coming from inside the chimera. He carefully enters through the rear hatch, passing by a gibbering humie, and locates the source near the driver's seat. "crackle...Unit 13, please report!...buzz...I repeat, Unit 13 please copy!...frizzle...God dammit, if you guys went out for a joyride I swear the major will have your..." Grimply is confused by the voice from the small metal box, and ponders this strange phenomenon by peering at it with his scrunty eyes. And then he hears a more familiar voice in the back of his head. It tells him that these are other humies that look for the humies they just killed. And if they can't find them, something bad will probably come looking for them. He begins to gnaw on his haggard nails, and then shivers run through his tiny body while the voice keeps telling him how he can stop this from happening. Grimply doesn't really understand every little detail of the plan the voice just told him, but the scruntfather never failed him in times of dire need. And it basically boils down to him having to lie. Which is something that he did before and is also good at. He stumbles back out of chimera, still in thought and slightly confused. While hastily looking around, he sees Urok punching a lying humie with his stun gloves. The humie trashes about, but still groans as Urok rifles through his pockets. Then the voice in Grimply's head kicks back in. He has to talk to this humie. He has to pretend to be him to make his lie work. Yes, it's all clear now! Grimply barks at Flet to follow him, and makes his way over to the humie. Urok gives him a careful glance, and then scuttles away with his ill gotten gains. The humie looks very wounded, but still keeps groaning. Grimply kneels down next to him, and snatches the shiny metal bits around his neck that Urok didn't care for. He doesn't really know why, but has a feeling that it's important. He holds them close and carefully reads what's written on them. Then he turns his attention to the groaning humie. He grabs him by the straps on his chest and starts to shake him while also giving him a few smacks to the face. But aside from more groaning, this leads nowhere. "Fack, this ain't roight...Flet! Get me some water an' dump it on tha humie's face. I heard ya can wake a sleepin' humie like that!" Satisfied with his order, Grimply gets back to staring at the metal bits and sinks back into his thoughts. Flet however isn't so happy. He nervously steps around on the spot, because he saw no water anywhere. But he also can't disobey Grimply. So he does the next best thing, and unzips his pants to take a healthy piss on the humie's face. Grimply doesn't notice this, and only gets pulled back from his thoughts when he hears the humie gasping and gulping behind him. When he turns around, he sees that the humie seems to be awake again. He also sees Flet, with a guilty look and his little scrunt pecker out. With a heavy sigh he says "Yer one weird little scrunt Flet...One weird little scrunt.." The humie is heavily confused, by a combination of pain, blood loss, and scrunt piss in his mouth. And before he knows what's happening, Grimply leaps on his chest, and grins at him. "Oi laddie! This be a poo poo day for yer ain't it? All yer humie friends are dead and yer goin' ta join em soon!" "Argh...get away from me...urgh...you vile mutant.." Grimply produces his pistol, and grins even more menacingly at the human. "Now, now. This be na time for such words. Yer facked mate, 'tis as simple as that. But tha scruntfather is loving and gracious, and 'e told me ta give yer a chance." Still battling his confusion, pain, and the weird taste in his mouth, the humie can muster little more than to stare back at the mad creature on his chest. "It be like this me boy. Yer gonna tell me what I wants ta know, and then yer can go. That's roight! Tha scruntfather told me yer can live this day if yer be nice!" "Ugh..you never get anything...anything from me...mutant!..argh" Grimply slightly shifts his meager weight, and digs one of his boots into an open wound which makes the humie groan in pain again. He moves his groady scrunt face very close to the horrified humie, and whispers "Laddie, it's not like yer got much of a choice." What follows is a rough hour of scrunt interrogation. Grimply constantly switches back between being friendly and threatening, and asks the humie all kinds of questions. There is no clear pattern behind them, and they include things like where he came from, who the other humies with him are, what color his poop is, or if he heard the good news of the scruntfather. Grimply also repeats several of his questions over and over again, like a senile parrot, with no care for if they have already been answered or not. The whole ordeal turns into a nightmarish haze for the humie, and at some point, he isn't even sure himself what he told the mad creature. Eventually, the voice in Grimply's head tells him that it's enough. "Roight laddie, this wasn't too hard now was it? Yer did good, yes yer did. Tha scruntfather is pleased with yer!" Grimply gently taps the terrified humie on his cheek, before scampering from his chest. Realizing that he somehow survived this nightmare, relief and hope come back into the humie's features. Though, that quickly changes as Grimply clocks him on the head with the grip of his pistol. "Flet me boy. C'mere. Yer know we can't let tha humie get back to his friends roight? Yes yer know it. Now listen ta me. Tha scruntfather told me he 'as a test for yer. Ta show yer faith and scruntines, yer gots ta send this humie ta 'is god. I gots a thing ta do, so I leave yer to it. But remember, tha scruntfather sees everything, so yer better do it roight!" With this, Grimply waddles off towards the chimera, and leaves behind a scared and slightly overwhelmed Flet. Flet has killed humies before, but it always was with a gun, and never this close. He hastily looks around, and taps on his pockets, but realizes that his weapon is back at the chimera, with Grimply's and his other stuff. The only thing he has on him, is the holy book that Grimply let him hold today. And so, the last thing that Sergeant Frank Hardchest sees, are the stained pages of a worn book that get shoved into his face. He trashes around as he suddenly can't breathe anymore, but is much too weakend to free himself. And then everything goes black for him. Meanwhile Grimply made his way to the chimera, and boots the still gibbering humie out of the rear hatch before he closes it. He needs to be alone for this. The strange voice still periodically crackles out of the metal box, but Grimply ignores it and starts to pray. He mumbles ever faster, and rocks back and forth while the spirit of the scruntfather fills him. Wild spasms shake his deformed body, and his eyes turn cloudy before he suddenly stops, and carefully reaches for the microphone of the vox unit. "Argh..Here is Sergeant Hardchest calling headquarters...unf...I repeat..Sergeant Hardchest calling headquarters, do you copy? Over." After a tense moment of static, the vox unit responds. "This is headquarters. I read you Sergeant. Where the gently caress have you been? We've been calling your unit for like an hour! Over!" "Ugh..I had some problems, headquarters..Sorry but nobody was near the vox when you called for us...argh..over." "What is going on with you? You don't sound so good...Did you get ambushed by imperial stragglers? Give me a sitrep right now! Over." "Negative headquarters..uff..No imperials..it was my own drat unit!..urgh..Over." "What do mean by your own unit? This makes no sense. Over." "Look..I gotta sit down..urgh...I'm bleedin a bit..Ov-Over." "God dammit Frank. gently caress the vox protocol and just tell what happened!" "Yeah..wait...Okay..ugh..So we got to the site...but it was just some space debris, nothing of note here...argh...and then the guys you gave me started to bicker..that the army sucked and that they only get the lovely jobs..." "gently caress, I knew those dumb farmhands were no good. None of them had any proper training or morale!" "Yeah..but..one of them drew his gun on me...said he wanted to ditch the stupid army and go back home..huff..He didn't listen to me..I..I had.." "gently caress! Don't tell me you shot him?" "I..I had to...the others also wanted to join in...urgh...I had no choice..I...I had to kill them all.." "Holy poo poo Frank! This is bad...this is really bad! When this gets out, morale will take a huge hit! You're really lucky that I'm the only one on vox duty today! We can't let this get out...gently caress, let me think... Okay, here's what we'll do. You say that you got ambushed by imperials and that they wiped your whole squad before running away, understand? I'm gonna say that I caught some imperial vox chatter afterwards that supports your story, okay? poo poo, this is the only way. I'm gonna get some people that I can trust to come and pick you up." "Negative...I..argh...I can patch myself with the medkit..It's going to be okay...I'll..uff..I'll just drive back on my own." "poo poo Frank. This is FUBAR. But I trust you. I wouldn't if it were anyone else, but you saved my rear end back in '69. Now is my time to repay you for that. Update me if you do need any help, okay? Your wife was on the base earlier and wanted to see you. Well, at least now I can tell her that you'll be back soon. poo poo man, get back here in one piece okay?" "Yeah...friend...I will...over." Then the vox unit falls silent, and Grimply just stands still for a few minutes. When he comes back from his trance, he has no real memory of what he just did. He just has a strong feeling that what he did was right and good. It's usually like that when the scruntfather acts through him. It's nothing new for him, so he does not question it further. With a good feeling in his heart, and a happy whistle on his lips, he leaves the chimera and finds Flet waiting for him. He gives the young scrunt a questioning look, and Flet returns it with a sheepish nod, and then holds up the blood stained pages of the holy book. "Good lad. We both made tha scruntfather proud today." --------------------------- Right, time to not suck at dice. Since my sheet says that the GM can allow me to use Int instead of Str for intimidation, I'll roll both for my chat with the Sarge and let schlong pick. 83 vs (26 Str) lol 37 vs (34 Int) fuuuuck Okay that was poo poo and now my deceive roll has to be good 20 vs (42 Fel) awww yiiis E: And if I still have the time, I want to scout for a better location and collect my traps Tin Tim fucked around with this message at 16:45 on Nov 28, 2014 |
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Nov 28, 2014 16:14
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The Drop Site The Forest Malbrathia-3 Dak cracks his knuckles and medics the hell out of the wounded. He effortlessly staples Urok's wounds shut, stitches the intestines back together, and even signs his name in the fine suturing around the edges (Urok is back to full health, i.e. has no damage). He finds a little hypo-spray in his medkit and experiments with actually cleaning out wounds before stitching them up. It seems to work well, and he considers making it part of his standard approach in future. He spends the rest of the time ambling around aimlessly, occasionally vaguely wondering what's in his remaining halluc grenade. He suckles at the firing pin vaguely, but doesn't get a buzz. OOC: Dak knocks his roll out of the park - he probably has enough successes left over to heal any other PC scrunts that seek medical attention, even accounting for the penalty he will take for multiple patients at once. I mean, there's no reason to massively over-heal Urok and then roll again for the other scratches and bruises. You can still retroactively do stuff, this didn't take very long. Groin recovers from his choking quite quickly, catching his breath within a few minutes. He could stop off at Dak to get his cuts and bruises looked at, but spends the rest of his time staring intently at Scurrilous from quite close range, not saying a great deal and breathing heavily. Occasionally he strokes the Chimera protectively with his flesh arm, while the mechanical one makes rodeo motions from time to time. Perhaps the two scrunts between them will be able to come up with a name for their new metal steed. The magboots make a convenient latrine, providing both scrunts with the opportunity to attend to their business while not stepping away from their work. OOC: Groin has no fatigue any more! He also is hanging out with Scurrilous who, although he ain't posted yet, is apparently trying to make some pintle-mounted weapon for the Chimera. Presumably he'll want to patch it up and fix some of the structural damage - Groin has tech-use and so can give a +10 to assist in this, and a further +10 for general vehicle autistry as well as having a great big welder coming out of his eye. Urok violates the crippled sergeant's personal space. His feeble protestations are cut off by primitive electroshock therapy, and he lies limp and twitching while Urok's filthy hands roam all over his body. After a particularly invasive body search, Urok comes away with several fine cigars, a small book of matches, a bunch of insurance papers that he can't read, a small polaroid photograph of the sarge's family, and a locket containing a snatch of blonde hair. And hey, there's something else here, hidden in his backpack... OOC: you nicked all his personal mementos! You also got from the sergeant whatever it is you end up getting as your end-of-fight loot. This hasn't yet been determined. You can still do other stuff, this didn't take very long. Kreb stands guard over Geoffrey, the wheelbarrow scrunt, with a slightly crazed glint in his eye. It's unnerving, and more than once Kreb emits a kind of yelping moan just as Geoffrey considers secreting something away in his robes. Rattled, the quartermaster (well, possibly eighth-master) ends up gathering slightly more matériel than would otherwise be expected. OOC: Kreb nails a Perception test to make sure Geoffrey doesn't steal from you!! This would normally be Scrutiny vs Sleight of Hand, but G's just a regular scrunt without that skill so Kreb can get away with a standard Per test Grimply is a scrunt with drive! A scrunt with ambition! A scrunt who gets things done! A scrunt with serious mental issues (so basically a scrunt)! His bizarre incoherent interrogation of the sergeant turns up no coherently useful information, although what fragments he does obtain, coupled with Dak's earlier observations that the humans showed up quite quickly, gives him reason to believe the PDF outpost is no more than an hour or so's drive away to the east. Grimply is also a scrunt with a worrying knack for deceit. Aided by Grimply's mynah-bird-like imitation, and the scrunt's knowledge of the sargeant's rank and number, the hapless PDF vox operator buys the story of internecine mutiny hook, line and sinker. Somewhat worryingly, he does not stop to question how a single sergeant could wipe out his own entire squad. At least with the unwitting assistance of the vox operator, the scrunts can now rest easy that no Severan reinforcements will be despatched to the dropsite in the immediate future, giving them time to fortify or move out as appropriate. However, it's tricky to foresee how the Severans will react to tales of a rampaging hunter-killer Imperial unit far behind their front lines. OOC: lmao Grimply considers scouting again and checking his traps, but as he has literally just done this there is probably not much point. He makes a note to do so after the great scrunt council that Gumbo is organising takes place. He already knows of a couple of farmsteads the scrunts could head towards, though. He ponders this as he empties out his magboots. Gumbo gets his wounds sorted (back to no damage), and begins harassing scrunts. He is a surprisingly effective organiser, when push comes to shove (succeeded in a hidden-difficulty Command test!). As much inter-scrunt communication comes in the form of pushing and shoving, this translates into a decent knack for command, and in a surprisingly short time, representatives from most of the scrunt families have gathered around the Chimera. The average scrunt family tree looks more like a bramble thicket, so this translates to most of the civilian force being present. Other scrunts keep a lazy eye out for trouble, or continue to gently caress around with the retro-rocket forge they've bashed together. There is the occasional VOMPH of a bush or tree or scrunt going up in flames, but for the most part, the important scrunts are all present, all conscious, and all vaguely understanding what's going on. This is nothing short of a minor miracle in scrunt terms - perhaps it is the power of the slam sector flowing through them! -------------- The Scrunt Gathering The Forest Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y3pspnwyoM scrunt.flv Things devolve into a noisy argument almost immediately. A particularly grizzled scrunt with no ears is shouting for the entire group to up sticks and go find a nice sewer to live in. Several hayseed scrunts in straw hats seem to want to start a farming commune, although it is unclear whether or not they actually know the first thing about farming. Some of the more mechanically inclined scrunts want to take the Chimera apart in order to stockpile spare parts for the Chimera. One young scrunt is simply bawling SECTOR SLAM, SECTOR SLAM at the top of her voice and does not appear to quite understand. The old lady scrunt from the dropship is doing her hardest to catch Groin's eye, presumably with an eye to picking up where they left off beforehand. A one-armed scrunt is complaining about the lack of red dye for his robes. Basically, it's chaos. Amidst all the shouting and gesticulation, common threads of debate seem to emerge. The scrunts are uncertain where and how to live, where exactly they are, what the immediate threats are, and what they should be doing. These are baseline circumstances for the average scrunt, but now circumstances are a bit more pressing and answers should probably be sought. No clear leaders have emerged yet - perhaps it's time to impose your will on these stupid little shits. Besides, if you're their boss, you can use their stuff. That's how it works, right? ---------------- greetings apes. you have scrunting to do. I want things from you. I want you to say what sort of things you want to do next, and I want you to convince the other NPC scrunts of them. To do this you're going to want to use social skills - Charm, Decieve, Intimidate, Command, that sort of thing. If you don't have a particular social skill you can still use it at -20, because, for example, even if you're not trained in the art of deception you still understand the concept of a lie. Good plans will get bonuses - backup from fellow PC scrunts will also give bonuses, so even if you're a social retard you can still help e.g. Grimply or Gumbo by standing behind them and shouting YEAH. Bear in mind you've still not interrogated the PDF trooper that Grumb's currently gimping, so if you want info from him you can do a retroactive post where you try and get info out of him. That might dictate what actions you take, or it might not. Please think medium-term and in general terms, i.e. "I think we need a base!" rather than "I want to go and buy a pair of flak trousers!", because the latter is a bit of a lovely adventure. I want you to tell me what sort of loot you want. Do you want a bigger gun, do you want your current one improving, do you want armour, grenades, drugs? Want a tool, want something to play to your strengths or cover your weaknesses? You can tell me exactly what you want, if you know, in which case you'll get a logistics roll for it which you might fail, or you can tell me what you want in vague terms, in which case you'll probably get something useful but possibly not exactly what you want. Bear in mind this is being represented as coming from the dead PDF squad, being requisitioned from the general poo poo the scrunts have, and being bashed together by scrunt craftsmen, so you are unlikely to pull lascannons out of the works but you might easily manage, say, a grenade launcher. I will aim for greater transparency once we get to this bit, but again, you haven't killed anything particularly interesting yet nor raided any arms depots so your selection is limited. I want you to come up with something interesting about the planet you're on. Post it in the recruitment thread. Maybe there's a particular species of land animal that lives in the deserts to the south, maybe it has an unnaturally thin ionosphere so radio communication is tricky, maybe the cities are made up of slow crawlers that follow mineral seams across the face of the planet. Please try to steer away from general scrunt memes like "forests full of tiny wolves" etc, this is to help me with coming up with interesting poo poo to happen to you.
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Nov 29, 2014 18:40
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Scurrilous Scruntson The Scruntmera - Before the Great Gathering of Scrunts Scurr is a blur of motion, clambering up and down the APC like a hosed up tiny lizard, mumbling himself and shouting strange gibberish to SCR-417 who follows along below him and chirps and beeps in response. Eventually he leaps down and puts his hands on whatever approximates for hips on his body as SCR trundles off somewhere. "Roight then. Oi! Eyeball! He barks at Groin. "I needs ya beamy-eye here, patch up this 'ere rid o' ours." Scurrilous begins to explain his plans to Groin and directing him water he was needed most. The technoscrunt's robot companion appears periodically bearing a sheet of scrap metal that it drops unceremoniously on the ground before immediately leaving to find more. Neither scrunt bothers to ask where it comes from and Scurrilous at least doesn't care. Scurr holds the sheets in place over the damaged areas as Groin welds them in place. This is repeated for quite awhile until finally the damage is almost completely repaired, although it certainly doesn't look better, as it resembles some sort of freakish mechanical Frankenstein than a military vehicle. OOC: 12 vs 80 (+10 [Mechandrite], +10 [Foresight], +10 [Groin's help]) to repair the Chimera. Scurrilous and Groin stand on top of the Chimera and peer at the hole Groin had cut in the top of the turret for some time. They could just repair it like the other holes, dents, and rents in the armor, but the technoscrunt has other ideas. "Yew ken, one gun is good, but ya know wha's better? More gun." He says with a devious sparkle is his scrunty eyes. He barks a command to SCR-417, who dutifully boops and quickly rolls away into the crowd of civilians. While the robot is away he and Groin get to work, bending a piece of metal into a circle to fit over the hole as a sort of track and fitting a hastily made weapon mount onto it. Moments after the mounting is made SCR returns, beating an autogun in each of his claws and drops them on the ground. "A well knoon fact, Groin me' friend, is that yew kin nevar have too much gun." He states proudly as he directs the operator to weld a small crossbar to connect the two guns together. He then climbs back up to the turret and slots the double-gun into the mount and grabs it experimentally. Holding one handle in each hand he can easily track the dual weapon left, right, up, and down, and when he squeezes both triggers at once they fire easily enough in tandem and the mounting absorbs the worst of the combined recoil. "That'll do, gun. That'll do." He says with a wicked grin. OOC: 36 vs 80 (+10 [Mechandrite], +10 [Foresight], +10 [Groin's help]) to construct a pintle mount and weapon. So now our chimera looks like this except with a double autogun instead of a storm Bolter and covered in scarp metal. But not so much to slow it down. Twin Autogun - (Basic | 100m | S/3/10 | 1d10+3 I | pen 0 | clip 60 | _________ The Great Gathering of the Scrunts Scurrilous walks up a little late to the large horse of scrunts, having stayed a little longer to do a few final checks on the Scruntmera and his new gun as well as reload and recheck all his own weapons. Scurr naturally gravitates towards the other technologically minded scrunts and listens for a few minutes as everyone screams over each other. Finally he's had enough. "Enough, ya rat-piss-huffers!" He yells over the din. "Fer one thing, ain't no scrunt on here is gon' touch me baby. Ya gaggle o' extra chromosomes couldn't fix a piece o' scrap if'n the Omniscrunt 'imself walked ye threw it! An' I'll put doon any a ya fecked up basterds that tries anyway." He says with as much menace as he can muster, and he waves his mechandrite threateningly for extra effect. "Now, what ur are gonna do is help me get more o' these fine mechanical beasts o' burden." At this point SCR's speakers begin playing inspirational background music as he speaks. "This be the fabled Slam Sector! An we did'na land 'ere to live off o' tha land! Or ta make a big fort like tha hummies. Nay! We came to live fast, an kill hard! Picture it lads, a great horde o' scrunts, driving where'ere we please! Take wha' we want, kill wha' we want! Be warriors o' the roads! Road warriors!" He says triumphantly, punching his fist in the air. ________ OOC: I want to find more vehicles, as many as we can get our hosed up mutant hands on, and become mauraders moving across the land at top speed. More APCs, tanks, walkers, fliers, so long as it's armored and fast. Intimidate is my best social skill, And I tried to be frightening at first, but if you feel that's not an appropriate skill then roll otherwise. As for loot, Scurrilous wants to become more like the machines he loves, and so any implants he doesn't already have are the top of his list. Barring that, a more powerful weapon or any weapon mods are desired as well. Who What Now fucked around with this message at 22:19 on Nov 29, 2014 |
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Nov 29, 2014 21:30
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I am curiously happy that you remembered the bonus from Foresight. However, if you're going autoguns then your gun's going to be Storm instead of Twin-Linked - twinlinked is mostly for powerful single-shot weapons, storm is for full-auto. You rolled well so I will ignore that really you should be using Trade - Armourer for this which you do not have, and you can have two customisations on your storm autogun. You can pick who gets the benefits if you choose customisations like Custom Grip.
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Nov 29, 2014 21:46
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Sweet. I thought that it would be Storm rather than Twin-Linked because the triggers weren't linked, but I don't have the books in front of me and won't until Monday so I wasn't sure. So I'll decide on the weapon mods then. Also I plan on using Foresight any time I have the time to allow it. That's a fantastic talent.
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Nov 29, 2014 22:23
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Grumb Slanger, Scrunt meeting Grumb slanger has spent the last couple of hours tending to his wounded new friend Barry. Not trusting the wellness of this innocent human to the devious clutches of Dak Rugby, Grumb has taken it upon himself to scavenge for medical supplies and fix his friend's bones and burns. He assembled a collection of stinky leaves, oily vines and brambles, which he has fashioned into a makeshift splint. He applies it to Barry's shattered arm [after cleaning the wound and carefully setting the bones, of course]. Meanwhile, a homemade herbal ointment of stinky leaves, oily vines and brambles has been slopped deep into the human's burns. He is a trembling mess, and seemingly unable to communicate clearly. A disgusting rash has begun to spread over his face and hands. His eyes dart rapidly around at the congregation of scrunts as he takes in the disturbing gathering from atop grumb's shoulder. His gaze falls finally upon the grenades strung down grumb's bandolier. ------------- A medicae roll, if i'm not mistaken, at 26 intelligence -20 for using an untrained skill : 99 vs a target of 6. If I understand that rules correctly, that's 9 degrees of failure. I'm sure Grumb has done a world of good here. ------------- Stirred by Scurrilous's impassioned speech, Grumb stands up from the crowd clapping uproariously. Barry's eyes bulge with pain at the sudden jolt upright, and he bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. "Thass a farkin' accredible idea, Scurr!" He barks, shoving his way through the crowd toward the chimera. "Who needs it, ta come home to a dag-gum stinkin' burrow every noight, eat the same old rats an fack the same old dang ol' stinkin' burrow? I'm abote had enough o' this crater any 'ow!" "Yeh! Tell 'im, Grumb!" Barry shouts approvingly from the crowd. Barry winces in pain as Grumb turns around to see Barry, and throws up a little through his clenched teeth. "Only, where is we gonna fine more of those wheelyboxes? Dey only sent us one" "You done dun don't needa worry none bout dat, Barry, we kin just ask my good friend Barry!" Grumb shouts in Barry's ear. He begins shaking the human around violently atop his shoulder to articulate the point. "'E came right out them box wiff the rest of 'em, and I reckon 'e knows whurr we dun kin get us some more! Right, Barry?" Barry swallows his vomit and yanks the pin out one of Grumb's frag grenades. He blacks out. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 05:48 on Dec 1, 2014 |
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Dec 1, 2014 01:47
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Pernicious Kreb, The Great Conclave Kreb quivers with unclean delight at the fear he has inflicted upon the Quartermaster, and sets about picking through the loot. He mostly focuses on the weaponry, looking over the lasguns for bits he can pull off with his grubby little hands and somehow affix to his personal weapon. Kreb is looking to make modifications to his gun, either in terms of power or in terms of aiming ability. He'd also quite like some more explosives and a hat. Later, as Kreb heads towards the excited masses, he begins to feel faint. Something is very wrong. The air on this world is disgustingly thin. There's just no... substance to it. No smoke, no vapours. It's like how water would be if it didn't have any sludge or grit in it. Just nothing at all, like the hellish vacuum of space. He heads woozily towards the retro-rocket forge, and inhales deeply of the fumes of industry. It sates him, almost. There's still something missing. This smoke is just one note in what, back home, was a symphony. Atomic, biological, chemical, home had all the good pollutants. And this place won't feel like home until those old friends are here. Some time later, Pelt staggers over to the gathering. His drug-addled twitching is oddly attention grabbing, and after a moment of being stared at by curious scrunts, he speaks: "Uh, s-s-s-ooooo, Kreb, he got the gun, sed to say that he sez he wants me to say that he wants to say that he wants to get to some per-lution. The good stuff. Like p-p-paint shavins, but from a factory or a... place..." He trails off into staring into space, and makes an expansive gesture with his hands to try and indicate what he means, but it's really not clear what that is or whether he even knows what it is he means. Kreb's priority here is to find a good, healthy source of varied pollution. His preference normally would be to find somewhere dark and deep with plenty of hivers to kill and loot, but currently the most pressing issue for him is the lack of vital nutrients in the planet's air. So he probably won't mind what people do, so long as it gets him closer to his lifeblood (gross stuff).
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Dec 1, 2014 04:48
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Ground Zero The Forest Malbrathia-3  As the maltreated PDF trooper yanks the pin from Grumb's grenade, time seems to slow. The world hangs, for an instant. ----- Grumb can spend a fate point if he wishes to save the scrunt's sole current source of information and narrative convenience. Otherwise, both of his frag grenades will cook off, dealing 3d10-drop-lowest damage to the gunner, and knocking his comrade Barry into Wounded. If he gets hit again (e.g. is in another explosion, gout of flame, etc.) before the next fate point refresh he's dead, regardless of medical attention. PDF Barry will die. Other scrunts can take as much or as little damage as they like, or none at all - this is player-driven damage in a narrative section so I'm not going to go all "well Scurrilous is next to the Chimera so takes 15 damage but Grimply's off in the bushes so escapes unharmed..."
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Dec 1, 2014 19:34
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Grumb Slanger, Bullet Time Grumb panics. His survival instinct kicks in, and his free hand grabs for his bandolier as his legs begin backpedaling wildly. But wait! Simultaneously, his newfound instinct to protect New Barry manifests. He had promised New Barry that he wouldn't let anybody hurt him, and that included New Barry! In a twisting scrambling panic, he spikes New Barry violently to the dirt as he attempts to wrench the bandolier from his chest. A panic ensues as the crowd of scrunts begin to shriek and recoil from the impending explosion. --------- Fate Point spent to save New Barry from himself Grumb will toss New Barry to [relative] safety while attempting to wrench the grenade from his belt, or failing that, the belt from his body, and toss it away from Himself/New Barry. I'll make an agility roll and a strength roll, but you can make your own if there's something else that makes more sense for this. If it comes down to it, Grumb will to prioritize saving New Barry over minimizing damage to himself. vs Agility 35 : 74. 4 degrees of failure. vs Strength 41 : . . . oh, crap. I'm using the 2d10 method with one of those tens dice, and I rolled a 1 and a 00. is that 100 or 1? is 100 "00 0"? how does that work? I'm pretty sure I either rolled a 100 or a 1. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 20:49 on Dec 1, 2014 |
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Dec 1, 2014 20:39
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Scrunt du Soleil The Forest Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1D5Sa2Yq-2g Oh poo poo! PDF Barry sprawls howling in the mud as Grumb tears at his bandolier. For one horrifying moment the PDF trooper looks up at the towering scrunt tearing at his clothing and fears the worst, but Grumb's mind is fixed solely on the preservation of his ever-growing flock of Barries. The heavy gunner spins round, and round, and round, and finally yanks off his bandolier, hurling it into a nearby tree and diving for cover! He lands squarely on top of the luckless PDF trooper. Grumb, for all his points, does not- no, alright, not "good" points. Points, maybe. For all his points. Grumb is not a doctor, is what I'm getting at. Were he a more experienced medic, he would have realised that actually the trooper's arm is merely atrociously dislocated. By an astounding fluke, the weight of the scrunt crashing down, coupled with the unnatural position the arm is forced into by the splint, manages to snap the abused appendage back into its socket! It is, of course, the single most painful experience of Barry's life, but you can't have everything. In a couple of hours he should be move it, slightly. ------------- It's a fate point to reroll yourself out of the situation, basically. If we're going to get rulestistic, what you did was gently caress up the medicae roll to such an astounding degree as to kill PDF Barry. It's just you kinda chose to represent that as him grabbing the grenade, which is why no other scrunt necessarily has to take damage for this. Fate point gets you a reroll - flipping a coin to choose the dice, you use the Strength test and apply it as your untrained medicae roll. Because you're not actually doing invasive surgery here I'm not going to make him take damage by you loving up the roll on anything other than a monumental failure, so unless you roll a 99 or a 100 again he- Ignite Memories posted:oh, crap. I'm using the 2d10 method with one of those tens dice, and I rolled a 1 and a 00. is that 100 or 1? is 100 "00 0"? how does that work? I'm pretty sure I either rolled a 100 or a 1. gibber oh wait no it's ok, you either rolled a 10 or a 1 depending on which dice represents your "hundreds" column. I flipped a coin and, uh, you rolled a 01. Which means you actually healed him through your creepy scrunt fumbling. Always bet on tails! so you healed damage equal to your intelligence bonus (i.e. 2 wounds worth) and also removed a point of crit damage. But your bedside manner could use some work. You only spent that fate point, by the way, you didn't burn it. You get it back next time the fate points refresh, which will probably be after whatever the next encounter is.
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Dec 1, 2014 22:03
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i think my tens dice was 00 and my ones dice was 1. I have one of those fancy d10s that has 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 00. The other die is just 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0. So how do I roll 100 on a d% which consists of 2d10? Is it 00 + 0? That makes sense to me, because you can't roll 0 on a d%. Right?
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Dec 1, 2014 22:32
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Yep, that's it. 0 + 0 wraps round to 100, 0 + 1 = 1
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Dec 1, 2014 22:46
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Groin Sklunger Scrunts Gone Wild Groin had been sat atop the Scruntmera watching the meeting of the Scrunts from afar, by using a combination of the zoom function of his bionic eye, and by tuning his auspex into SCR-417's microphone for audio. Groin generally avoids large social gatherings, due to his extreme paranoia. Groin focuses his zoom in on Grumb's mad antics just in time to see him throw the grenade bandolier into a nearby tree. "Aw sheet..." mutters Groin. The grenade goes off, severely damaging the tree and probably several Scrivilians (Scrunt Civilians) sat around it. The explosion also causes a small twig to arc up in the air and land with an extremely moderate force on Groin's head. "AGHHH! ME NOGGIN!" overreacts Groin. He grabs his head with both hands, tumbles off of the Scruntmera, and begins crawling toward the meeting while moaning and wailing. "THEY GOT ME! I'M A GONNER! AGHHH I CAN'T FEEL ME LEGS!" he whines. He slowly crawls into the centre of the crowd, and for some reason clutches his knee. "Remember me... as a hero... time to die..." he whispers. Nearby an orange mohawk gently floats to the ground. ____ Groin is being Groin, and his comrade may or may not have been killed in the explosion.
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Dec 2, 2014 00:25
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scalded schlong posted:Yep, that's it. 0 + 0 wraps round to 100, 0 + 1 = 1 For everyone playing at home, 1 is the absolute best you can roll. It's literally a 1-in-a-100 type outcome!
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Dec 2, 2014 02:00
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Gumbo Bulge, Scrunt Assembly. Gumbo is pleased. The assembly has come together with very unscruntlike efficiency, interrupted only by a characteristically scruntlike unplanned grenade detonation. The most popular option amongst the more capable Scrunts, the A Team as he has started calling them in his hosed up head, is a life of land piracy, which sounds pretty good to him. He addresses the assembled Scrunt civilians "Alrigh then. Us lot can ride in tha tank an youse lot..." He looks around as if suddenly surprised at the lack of available transportation. Maybe there's a bus stop nearby? "It looks ta me like we be needin drivers an we be needin vehicles. As anybody ad a look round ere? Us lot'll find you lot sum more wheels, youse... find yourselfs a sewer an hide until wes get back" Gumbo voices his agreement and suggests the other civilian scrunts stay behind, although hed like to know if any of them want to volunteer as drivers - if so they would have to come with us so they can drive the looted vehicles back for the others. I remember somebody scouting earlier - maybe scurrilous? think we should head for the nearest farm etc and steal civilian vehicles, then later we can scrunt them up.
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Dec 3, 2014 16:15
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Grimply, at the scrunt conference Grimply intently listens to the scrunt bickering, and absentmindedly blesses a few random scrunts around him. A lot of the bickering doesn't make sense to him, but when Scurrilous tells of his plan of a roaming band of scrunts on vehicles, Grimply is on board. They still need to make this world into their slam sector, but you need stuff for that. You can't just build a paradise of scrap and rats from flimsy wood and disgusting grass. "Yar laddie, you gots tha right idea!" he bellows. "Yer know, when I wents out ta trap me some food, me keen eyes saw a few humie hovels near us. These humies use that disgusting land 'round 'ere to grow thar gross food. But yer know what dese humies also have? Some vehicles, the call em tracktoars. Wes gonna nab those tracktoars so wes can fit all tha scrunts. Oua humie box is good an' all, but yer can't fit all tha scrunts in it, can ye? And Scurrilous me lad, can you show tha other scrunts how ta make carts from this horrible wood? Theys 'ave ta carry our scrap an' stuff before we can get a ride for dem." So first I'm going to make a roll to convince y'all that there really are farm vehicles that we can plunder and pimp Deceive test 30 vs 42 Fel And then I'm going to make a Int check to see if I can whip up some good humie stew Cooking test 55 vs 34 Int Nooope, it's disgusting Lastly, I think we can just assume that I'll collect my traps before we move on, and stash whatever I caught in Flet's groady sack. Also, I don't think that I can influence any cart making, so that's on Scurr if he wants to to it. Also, reposting my loot wishes I would like a simple attachement for my rifle if such things exist. If not, something to enhance my scouting like a space binocular or a shoddy auspex maybe? E: lol Phoon, that's timing
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Dec 3, 2014 16:40
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Grumb Slanger, Scrunt meeting Grumb's world spins harshly, unapologetically. With a deep, mournful groan he lurches up from the muddy, bloody lump that broke his fall, briefly losing track of where he was. He blinks twice, focusing his eyes, then throws up on the bloody lump. The bloody lump also throws up. Grumb stands, cracking his back and neck loudly. "Roight! Grumb exclaims, pointing to the brightly burning mass of gnarled, twisted branches that stood where the tree once was. "So thass tha beacon!" The billowing orange of the smoke grenades mixed with the bluish smoke of the burning tree, illuminated by the unnatural yellow flame of the incendiary grenades as it curled high into the sky. "All us'ns wiff combat expeeriens load up in da van, we'll make for tha humie 'ovels, see if we kin scare up summore wheels. Resta yous should scavenge for eats and meats, we'll be ungry when we gets back. Everybody meet back at tha beacon come sunfall an' report back to tha sarge an' me." Pleased with himself, he reaches down to pull Barrius up from the mud. Barrius whimpers and coughs. "Barry, that wasn' very noice. Why don' we go get you cleaned up for da ride? You is gonna be our Naggivator, isn' that lovely? Wha' a good time we's gonna 'ave, you an' me. Wha' a dag-ol... grand time we's gonna 'ave." ------------ Grumb is going to look for a nearby puddle he can wash Barry in, and Old Barry will tag along jealously. For future reference, Old Barry is the one wearing the backpack with all of Grumb's extra miscellaneous equipment, as well as the mono truncheon and the scrunt pistol [Grumb lent him these weapons for self-defense, because Grumb never lets a Barry go to waste.] The beacon should burn as long as is narratively convenient, and hopefully remain a smoldering, crackling pile of visual confirmation to help us find our way home. In terms of loot, I could use some more grenades now that I've cooked all of mine off. Perhaps I could fashion a new bandolier for myself, as the old one was tied to my belt and now my belt just ain't sittin' right. Besides that, tractors sound like as scrunty a mode of transportation as any! I'm all for it. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 17:52 on Dec 3, 2014 |
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Dec 3, 2014 17:38
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