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Murdelia Skurvy The Scruntmera The Farm Go Time https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tl92wiSMHXk Murdelia had initially boarded the Scruntmera in order to peer at various flashing bits and search for overlooked bits of things. As a Sister of the Merciful Hand her scrounging ability was matched only by her low cunning and murderosity, supplemented by her overdeveloped scruntal cortex (a little-known part of the scrunt brain, discovered during a particularly fruitful post-looting autopsy), so she was confident she could find something worth grabbing. Her assistant Arnika followed dutifully, expectantly holding out a large sack labelled "LOOT". Unfortunately, they were ambushed by a gang of bored scruntlings who stuffed them inside an overhead locker, which was then welded shut by an overenthusiastic technoscrunt. The banging and cursing coming from the ceiling didn't attract much attention, and it was too cramped to draw her trusty laser pointer, so Murdelia and Arnika had to make do with pawing about their cramped surrounds. This proved fruitful, as a small bundle of unmarked injectors was found and subsequently placed inside the sack. The imprisonment ended when the Scruntmera rammed its way through the farm gate, the shock of the impact snapping open the fragile weld job and dumping the two Mediscrunts into the milling horde below. When the rear door opened the horde flowed outward in a cloud of smoke, less an offensive deployment than a natural diffusion that attempts to fill all available areas with a uniform density of scrunts. Murdelia was carried out by the tide and dumped in the soft mud, Arnika rolling out after her. Grumb was already there, having just been hit in the face by the door. "Arh! Grumb, Old Mate! What'srup with al'this?" Murdelia exclaims, gesticulating wildly and attempting to figure out the strange environment, "Is thissa battle? Is any'n dead yet? Badly n'jured? Wher'ar'we? What's tha' smell? Wher's Barry?" Faced with an unfamiliar situation, Murdelia readies her Scrunt Surgical Laser and takes cover behind Grumb, peering suspiciously at the nearby walls and bushes. ________________________________ Murdelia has no idea what's going on, and will hunker down behind the Scruntmera and shoot the first non-scrunt that appears. If Grumb makes a move somewhere she will follow him. Skellybones fucked around with this message at 10:38 on Dec 20, 2014 |
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Dec 20, 2014 08:35
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Murdelia Skurvy Behind the Scruntmera/Grumb, whichever provides more cover Murdelia begins rotating about on the spot like a hosed-up sentry turret searching for targets, and her sights pass over the large windows in the barracks nearby. The building was full of rampaging, ravenous, bloodsucking humans! Charging past to one end of the barracks! There was something valuable there, obviously, and all valuable Slam Sector loot automatically passes to the ownership of the nearest Scrunt. Ipso facto, their lives were forfeit! One of the humans seemed a bit bigger and uglier than the rest, and if humans were anything like scrunts that was the leader! Adjusting the range (MAX) and power setting (MAX) on Ol' Eyeblaster, Murdelia fires repeatedly into the target until it overheats and automatically shuts off. Meanwhile, Arnika excitedly fires an autogun into the air to celebrate the initiation of hostilities. ______________________________ Murdelia takes Aim and Semi-Auto Burst as Half Actions, preferring to hit the Hybrid leading Farm Squad 2. By my guess the enemy is about 38m away, 50m being Short range. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto + 10 Short Range = 60. I rolled 3. Five degrees of success? The gun has a 3 burst semi-auto so all of them are good, with 1d10e+3 damage. 3, 2, 2 out of 10, which is shameful. +2 for High Impact, so total damage is 8, 7, 7. They also apply Felling[2] and Crippling[2].
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Dec 21, 2014 07:41
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Murdelia Skurvy Out of cover near the Scruntmera Murdelia spends a moment basking in the glow of satisfaction from gunning down a few more humans, and also the glow of lasfire beaming past. Wait, what? She's safely in cover behind the Scruntmera... which has just attempted some complicated back-and-forth manoeuvre but managed to stall out a few meters away. Leaving her out in the open with Grumb wobbling nearby. Well, maybe it's better to not be hugging the metal beast, those rocket launchers are pointed right at it... oh, fekk! And what the scrunty hell is that behind them? "ANNY-TANK IN THA MIDDLE!" she bellows, but a horrible stench and sound erupts from the Scruntmera turret as Scurrilous takes a las hit right in his chest-like region. Judging by the filthy smell and volume of cursing it was mostly absorbed by his skin and muscles, but he'll definitely need to take a lie down later. Arnika helpfully holds out her shootin' cigar, but before she can jam into in her maw a lasbolt blasts it away and plunges the world into stark absolutes. The Scruntmera is targeted by rockets, so stay away from that. Staying in the open is a bad idea, too. She can only shoot so many of them before they shoot more cigars away. This leaves only one option. Murdelia swallows a sachet of powdered recaf and prepares to sprint (as least as much as one can with such short legs) for the building, where a scrunt is already lurking at the window. Is that Urok? Murdelia quickly discards the 'get closer to that fucker' plan and decides to stand in the open, firing wildly at the enemy. Maybe they'll all get shot before she does? "WAAARRR!!! DIE YA FEKKIN' SLIMEY GITS! OY'LL EAT YER BRAINS!" ______________________________ Murdelia takes Aim and Semi-Auto Burst as Half Actions, aiming at the PDF Squad and their rockets. The Genestealer itself seems to be 48m away, just inside Short range. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto + 10 Short Range = 60. I rolled 4, which is pretty amazing luck so far. Five degrees of success once more. The gun has a 3 burst semi-auto so all of them are on-target, with 1d10e+3 damage. 4, 8, 1 out of 10, +2 for High Impact, so total damage is 9, 13, 6. They also apply Felling[2] and Crippling[2]. Skellybones fucked around with this message at 01:46 on Dec 24, 2014 |
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Dec 24, 2014 01:41
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Murdelia Skurvy Standing in the middle of a road screaming and gesticulating Fire pours into the enemy from the inhuman invaders, and their slightly less monstrous foes are suitably splattered and vaporised. Murdelia chuckles coarsely as they writhe and burn, imagining their souls soaring to the Scruntfather, only to be rebuffed with a slurred "Ye not be a Scrunt, now fack off ya cobs! The ones with the rocket tubes are still up though, and their big boss is looking meaner than ever. This calls for decisive, surgically-accurate action. Additional recaf sachets are consumed. A crude nod is exchanged with Grumb. Arcane chemicals course through her crusty veins, carrying pure energy to the various tissues and organs that fill this particular scrunt. The Scruntmera grinds and lurches past, plowing through the wall of the building. Screams, fire, and explosions continue to propagate. The path is clear. Murdelia places one foot in front of the other, then puts the other in front of one, and repeats until she is moving forward, fast! She weaves slightly as she goes, dodging the shadowy figures which have suddenly erupted from the ground and started screaming ancient, lewd poetry at her. "Tha Sister of Merciful Healin's here so take a seat an' place yer wallet in tha collection dish!" she screams at nobody as a particularly vivid memory of her time at the Schmutzigbergen Medicalish Crematorium rises, "All serv'ces rendered are final! No refunds!" The stress of running and shouting at the same time is too much and she vomits a hideous rainbow which zigzags away into the sky. In retrospect, it probably wasn't recaf powder inside those unmarked packets, but what's done is done and the cloud of exhaust and dust left behind by the Scruntmera is a homely, comforting miasma to lurk in. A certain crystal dissolves and Murdelia plunges into an entirely new experience as she hits the targeted bit of cover. "Arnika! Tha purglaplex's flankin us! Coverin fire!" The excitable assistant begins firing the autogun randomly around the room, trying to find the invisible predator, but the magazine is already empty. ______________________________ Murdelia uses Run and Sprint to bolt across the battlefield, taking cover around the corner of the interior wall behind the Scruntmera. 
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Jan 2, 2015 15:30
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Murdelia Skurvy Standing in a pile of rubble Murdelia breathes in a heady dose of oily smoke and screaming cinders from the Scruntmera exhaust as it blasts by. Between the unusually dense 'air' and the brief period of moderately intense physical activity, the scruntess enters a slightly oxygen-deprived state often sought after by bored scruntlings, usually through pulling plastic bags over their heads, huffing glue or simply choking themselves while scrunsturbating. It is in this slightly blurry, dim state of mind that Murdelia leans around the wall to look for a target, only to witness the hosed-up human monster thing yeeing past. Totally ignoring her, which was good... but the Scruntmera! It was after the goods! "RIP in pieces" she quips cleverly, while waving the barrel of her laser in its direction. ______________________________ Murdelia takes Aim and Semi-Auto Burst as Half Actions, aiming at the Yeestealer. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto + 10 Short Range - 20 Running Target = 40. I rolled 46.
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Jan 6, 2015 08:50
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Murdelia Skurvy Feelingly oddly ignored in all this Murdelia squints and scurries a bit as her shots go wide but the filthy monster starts violating the Scruntmera in an oddly scrunty, yet inappropriate fashion. In a fit of offended anger she unleashes another barrage, hoping to destroy the fiend once and for all! ______________________________ BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto + 10 Short Range = 60 vs 81 to hit? gently caress! FATE POINT BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto + 10 Short Range = 60 vs 42 is better. Where do the other two shots go? What do they hit?  10 + 3 + 2 = 15 Scruntious Fury! Skellybones fucked around with this message at 03:36 on Jan 11, 2015 |
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Jan 11, 2015 03:08
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Murdelia Skurvy Surveying the locale Murdelia looks around the blasted, bullet-ridden hellscape. Smoke hangs low in the air, blood and ichor drip from unlikely surfaces, a huge human(?) lies asleep post-coitus with the trembling Scruntmera, and Scrunts are already starting to amble about and peer at things unmolested. "Hmmm." she thinks, glancing around. "Hmmmmmmm." she frowns in concentration. "HMMMMMMMMM!" she thinks loudly so as to drown the interruption from her medical-techy box. It's not supposed to talk like that. "OH!" she gasps in realisation, "Arn'ka! Secure the loot! GO GO GO GO!" she shouts suddenly at the henchscrunt-in-training, who immediately scurries off to lift valuable widgets and bits from the battlefield. Murdelia ambles over to where Grumb has started eating dirt, "Don't put tha' in yer mouth, Grumb, it's bad for ya. Try on'a these." Murdelia states in an authoritative manner, handing Grumb a cigar(?), "Oi'm a doctor, see." "Hmm, yes indeed." she says to nobody in particular. Her legs have already started walking her over to where the human(?) lies near the Scruntmera. Disturbingly, it has no pockets or pouches to rifle through. And the large amount of bullet and las holes in it indicates that it's dead, not asleep. Further investigation is needed. "Oiriiiight you lot! I need to move this... patient to a prop'r operating table! Oi need a few good scrunts to lift it up, see, and carry it over thar!" she bellows at the nearby milling scrunts, gesturing in the direction of the ruined building and waving the bonesaw around for good measure. There's probably an intact table in there. ____________________________________ Trying to wrangle scrunts to carry the genestealer indoors for a proper medical procedure. Intimidation?
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Jan 14, 2015 00:14
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Murdelia Skurvy In the OR Murdelia had been poised to start doing... something to the patient (which she was starting to suspect was no human at all), but then her medi-boxy started talking of a spaceship and alien and an exchange and too much to think about at once. Taking this thing apart, seeing what fit where, what it tasted like, all that would be a wonderfully exciting journey. But getting paid to hand it over, that's just as good. Maybe better. Or maybe worse. A small crowd of scrunts had gathered around to carry the beastie in and watch the operation, and now they gazed at Murdelia with slack-jawed interest, Arnika stealthily lifting their pouches and fanny-packs. This was her patient, her decision... unless another scrunt made it for her! Stealing her patient! And likely getting first pick of the loot! Yes, they would do that! Beads of sweat start oozing from her forehead. A vein starts throbbing irregularly. "O-Oiright. Erryone s-stay calm..." she calls hoarsely, slowly raising her mitts non-threateningly, "J-just stop an' think. No sudd'n move'nts..." This unexpected announcement only confuses the rabble of scrunts, who begin blinking and peering intently.  Murdelia starts backing away from the patient, still holding the rusty scalpel in one raised hand. "Shhhh, shhh, don't move, rioght? Noby'll get hurt..." She reaches the edge of the crowd and completes a slow turn, forcing a benign smile which only worries the group more. Whispers start breaking out. Realising the situation is about to spiral out of control, Murdelia lunges at the crowd and grabs a scrunt at random, pressing the scalpel to the neck-region! She drags the scrunt-shield back near the patient and shouts "J-just stop a minnit and lemme think! This's a tiome for cool 'eads, not stealin' of patients an' wotnot!" Partially crushed by the death-grip, Arnika whispers "Good plan, your mistressness! Err, yer cuttin' me a bit there."
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Jan 15, 2015 13:59
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Murdelia Skurvy In the OR As the gaggle of scrunts shuffle uncomfortably, Murdelia is frozen in panic over the decision to learn or loot. What would Mother Superior Frunkela do? Grumb's entrance and room-clearance triggers a memory from long ago. A rich, elderly Scrunt-Lord had reached immense height and girth due to a suspected overactive organ or gland, and finally met his end after choking on his own tongue. His remains were claimed by Frunkela, and Murdelia, then just a wee scruntling assistant, was to assist in the "Journey o' discovery as we 'splore this 'nusual speci-man". Unfortunately, his relatives had clumped together in a combination pub crawl/riot intending to claim their inheritance, and there was only enough time to either dig the tantalising fleshy bits out of his abdomen, or cut the rings and jewellery off his stubby extremities. So as autoguns chattered and molotovs sailed overhead, Frunkela shouted: "Fokkit, gold is forev'r, grab 'is watch and let's scurry!" A tear runs down Murdelia's craggy visage and Arnika hears her mumble "Oi've almost made a terrible m'stake. Oh, um, sorry 'bought tha cut, thought you was... err, furget it." Wiping the tear away with the same hand holding the scalpel and letting Arnika flop to the ground, Murdelia turns to Grumb and says with newfound conviction, "Stop starin' at me loik that, ya drippy-mouthed, scruffy-chinned, m'lign'nt boil! Oi'll sew yer shooter to yer arse if ya can't control it! An' don' interrupt a patient innerview! Oi'm not cryin', Oi'm just bleedin' from me eye, see!" Stomping away gracefully from the twitching 'stealer corpse, Murdelia brings her medi-boxy up to her mouth and shouts at it, "One ta beam up, Vallerus!"
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Jan 19, 2015 02:18
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Murdelia Skurvy Surveying the OR With the decision to sell off the Ophidian for loot, Murdelia tries to re-wrangle the scrunts who carried the thing into the building, and make them drag it back outside into the open. The pile of interesting brains Urok helpfully donated looks promising, but for some reason she's just not feeling 'it' any more. When the OR is clear again, she wipes off the table with a rag and sets up for slightly less invasive surgery. "Any scrunts wit' an 'njury, illness or other fissical complaint, come and Oi'll have a look at you." she proclaims grandly, sweeping a few bits of debris away, "Donations are a'preciated." _________________________ Any scrunts can come get healed. Using Dak's example, 42 Int + 20 Diagnosticator = 62, vs my 20.
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Jan 21, 2015 01:44
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Murdelia Skurvy Cold and wet Murdelia opens her eyes and sees nothing. This is not because it is night time, or because she is blind, or having a traumatic dream-within-a-dream-where-nothing-makes-sense-but-is-extremely-frightening, but because she is lurking underground in a large drain. A cunning hiding spot, even though it was unclear what exactly they were all hiding from. Murdelia is, like most scrunts, highly suggestible at times. Actually, sitting waist-deep in cold stormwater isn't all that bad. The matted refuse helps soften the rough rockcrete sides, and the stench is nice as well. With all the exciting events today, Murdelia is almost all scrunted out. And it's not even dark yet! Probably? Running and shooting and prepping for surgery does that. A forlorn scrunt[1] slips past her lips as she recalls the big, juicy, unseen brain lurking in that big, juicy unautopsied thing. It had looked so cool, but the loot was better, right? The loot? The loot! Erupting from the storm water drain like the pile of rotting leaves and agricultural runoff she resembled, Murdelia and Arnika 'run' to where the scrunts are picking over the rapidly diminishing pile of bits and gubbins. Some drinking liquids, some eating solids, others licking or making horrible, horrible love to their new acquisitions. Murdelia barrels through them, slapping them out of the way with the flat of her bonesaw, catching a few with the sharp edge. The newest bit of loot, according to the voice, is a webber and a homer! She has a very vague understanding of what that is, but it is sure to be valuable and complicated and worth a passed-up autopsy. And it was her autopsy that was passed up so obviously it belongs to her! She leaps for the gleaming crate and nests atop it, hissing at nearby scrunts. Another unmolested crate catches her eye next, and from atop her command tower she barks an order to her henchscrunt, who scurries over and drags it back. It's full of skin! Somebody had sucked the innards out of four humans and tanned the skin to resemble tough combat weave! Disturbing, but potentially useful. A bit big for a scrunt, though... she tries to envision the important bits and the flexy-bits and non-flexy bits on a scrunt. Cutting and sewing synskin is the same as cutting and sewing skinskin, right? The still-twitching bundle of brains in her reverse-fanny-pack catches her eye, that fucker Urok had given them to her. What was his angle? Trying to bribe her? Seduction? Reparations? A threat? Nobody threatens Murdelia Skurvy like that! she thinks angrily, unconsciously punching the bag with a wet thump, "Oi'll rip out yer gibbons and use 'em fer garders!" she snarls suddenly, causing a nearby looter to back away. "ARNIKA!" she bellows, "We's work t'do!" before flipping off the weapon crate, flipping that over her head, and carrying it off to her Operationin' Room. For safekeeping. Back in the pleasingly bloody workspace, she sets about repurposing the skin suits to scrunty dimensions. This is much easier than most projects, it doesn't bleed out or fight back. Leaving Arnika to close up the stitches, she moves on to the real surgery: the brains. More an expert on scrunt biology rather than human, the doughty mediscrunt still suspects something is different about these brains. They are probably supposed to stop moving after body death, and shouldn't have tentacles. Probably? She needs a control subject to be sure. Murdelia frowns and heads off for the prisoners, noticing that Arnika is triumphantly brandishing a sack of rhinestones for the synskin suits. Where did those come from? Urok is guarding the prisoners. That fucker. Getting one out will take all her wits and diplomatic ability. "You err, guard! Oi need a 'uman for things!" she yells as soon as one of his eyes swivels to focus on her, "Med'cal things you canna compr'hend! Stop starin' at me you fucker!" [1] an abrupt, high-pitched sound. ____________________ Murdelia wishes to claim the web gun, homing device and synskin suits. Beginning autopsy on the hybrid brains, but will also need a regular human brain to compare it with. 18 on autopsy roll, no idea what modifiers apply to picking apart tyranid organs. Oh, that intact hybrid corpse is probably good to poke at too. Scrunts can still come and get healed.
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Jan 28, 2015 11:11
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Murdelia Skurvy Warm and dry Nestled amongst the piles of somewhat soft, crinkly combat skins/disco jumpsuits, Murdelia nodded off, truly Scrunted out from a hard day's honest work. The squeaky, insistant patter of "Ey, ey, got any drigs?Ey, ey, got any drigs?Ey, ey, got any drigs?" carrying her off like a lullaby. Tomorrow, she would finish with those brains, discovering what they looked like cut open and seeing if anything happened when fed to a testscrunt. The tranquil moment was ruined when some scrunt with mechanical legs exploded into the brain-pokin' room, knocked everything over, and began trying to eat her brains! "Ah!! Me things! Stop that!" she screams hoarsely, as Kreb spins around on the ground, trying to lure the brains into his gnashing maw. Unusually for detached organs, the brains are putting up a decent attempt at escaping, but the scrunt invader is the far more pressing matter. "gently caress off or Oi'm givin' ya the boot!!" she commands furiously, but doesn't wait for a response before trying to kick the spinning, flailing, chomping demiscrunt away from her poor defenceless brains. ________ A roll of 38 to try and save my specimens from this fiend, I have Strength 41. Is this an unarmed attack or something?
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Feb 3, 2015 09:10
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Murdelia Skurvy Ornery With the pernicious invader captured, Murdelia discovers his untreated wounds from the battle that occurred here at an indeterminate point in the past. Definitely in the last week. Stumbling around, dripping bits of bodily fluid on the ground, luring bears and humans with the scent of scrunty flesh, all very irresponsible. Well, Murdelia considers herself the responsible type. Maybe not in reality, but the perception of self is very important. So she fixes the scrunt. Towards the end she remembers that it technically tried to rob and/or assault her, so she staples the largest wound shut in such a way that says *DuMP asS*. Was that wound there before she started? She's not sure, she's pretty tired. Some rhinestones may have also been added. Together, she and Arnika drag the patient outside and with some coordinated swinging, throw him onto the roof. Problem solved. What was the next stage? The brains! "Almos' got away from me thar" she says fondly as one tries to make a forlorn escape behind a milk crate. These constant misadventures are getting wearing, so without further ado she mashes and dices them up into a chunky pink and yellow slurry. Even for a scrunt it looks and smells inedible, so she indulges her inner destroyer and cooks it in a pan until it turns to ash and charred residue. Poking the fire/burning things is very relaxing. After finishing off her duties and getting a few more hours uninterrupted rest, she takes a moment to consider the pile of jumpsuits she had made. They were very pretty. And tough. Useful. Good work. They could assist the other scrunts. "Grumb is a good sort" she mutters appreciatively, laying out a larger, baggier one with a heat-applied motorcycle decal. "Groin is a bossy sort" she grumbles darkly, setting aside one with flared shoulders and elevated heels. "This one is fer me" she beams, holding up a jumpsuit encrusted with embellishments. By pure coincidence 'No. 1 Docter' has already been stencilled on, along with a skull with a snake coming out of the mouth. "Umm, hmm. Not sure 'bout this one" she says squintingly, examining an outfit with a gaudy reflective trim. _____________ Destroy the remaining brain tissue, heal up Kreb, and pass out the skin suits. One for Murdelia, Grumb and Groin, and one for whoever gets to it first.
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Feb 8, 2015 03:32
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Murdelia Skurvy Fashionable As she takes fittings for various scrunts, Murdelia takes the opportunity to pat them down and scrondle their scrunchy scrundles. Her morale seems to improve, not least from seeing Grumb and Groin stumping around in their ill-fitting scruntsuits. She sees them scratching themselves, hitching their fingers through belt loops, spitting on the ground and generally looking extremely sexy for scrunts. All, she knew, thanks to her exceptional fashionista skills and sound judgement. But what to do with this extra suit? A particular figure meanders through the muddy hellscape, and she recognises it as Grimply! He was a strange sort, and had taken a few shots at the fiendish enemy with his enormous gun, or so the rumours went. Most notable was his intense, unwavering faith in the Scruntfather. Now, any decent scrunt believed in the Scruntfather, but as with most scrunty efforts it was a half-assed devotion that largely manifested in the aftermath of loud noises and sudden weather changes. It took a very special scrunt to carry a truly unbreakable faith in the Scruntfather, and let it guide his actions. Of course there was not always a clear consensus on who or what the Scruntfather was... some said he was the gestalt consciousness of all scrunts that ever were and will be. Others, the foul and larcenous aspect of the Emperor's soul that was severed by a blow from Horus. Still more proposed a scrunty pantheon, including The Scruntuncle, The Scrunty-Niece and the Everscrunt Supreme (despite the name, the weakest of the hypothetical deities). A vocal sect of scrunt scholars even claimed that the Scruntfather was actually the Scruntmother! Not that Murdelia found any use for these wild theories in her practical, hack-and-burn lifestyle. Oh right, Grimply. Catching his eye with a wave, she beckons him in with a bloodstained mitt. A good honest scrunt like that needs all the help he can get, and Murdelia is feeling generous to the clergy today. Arnika bangs him over the head from behind with a cinder block, and together they start measuring him for his suit.
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Feb 9, 2015 13:30
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Murdelia Skurvy In a Scruntmera Having a poor recollection of just who organised this whole thing, where they were going and what they were aiming to do, Murdelia has a vague feeling of déjà vu as she is once again carried out of the Scruntmera on a wave of expansionistic scrunts. Grumb appeared to not be crushed by the door this time, at least. She finds herself in a well-concealed spot near the wheelybox, accompanied by a few gently hooting scruntlings and their adopted pets/toys/spouses. "Erm, alroight then, what's all this 'bout now?" she demands at noscrunt in particular. After some peering and prodding she wanders off to find out what's happening from more knowledgable scrunts.
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Feb 17, 2015 22:38
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Murdelia Skurvy Lurking Having been mystified by all the comings and going over the past minutes, Murdelia followed an old Scrunt instinct that kicks in when confused, afraid or aroused. She followed some other scrunts and nestled in a filthy dark hole in the ground and awaited. further stimulation. She had discovered too late that the unusually odd and unpleasant scrunt Kreb was in here as well, but he seemed intent on lurking and hissing to himself. Now scrunts were climbing over things, revving engines, shouting orders and preparing elaborate schemes and plots, many of which were related to the incoming packs of human vehicles. She had no particular care for wheelyboxes or walkyboxes or wheelycycles, but she was also in favour of general violence and stealing things. If such a thing to be blown up or stolen was a fuel tanker or scout car, then so be it. Shifting slightly in the pile of dead leaves that had blown into the bunker, she cleans the focussing lens of her las-shooter with some spit and balances the barrel on Arnika's head, who is acting as a combination spotter/stabilising mount. Whatever to come into the intersection would face her full scrunty wrath.
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Mar 3, 2015 13:06
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in bunker As the Rough Riders slide and skid about from the sudden clotheslining assault, Murdelia picks one wearing an antique-looking helmet with a spike coming out of the top. His rebellious, unique uniform choice will be the end of him. She squeezes the trigger repeatedly while pointing the lasgun at him, Arnika wincing slightly as the barrel heats up. ______________________________ Hoping to hit a mounted rough rider. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto + 10 Short Range + 5 Comrade = 65 vs 43 to hit? With semi auto that's two hits?
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Mar 8, 2015 05:26
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in bunker Murdelia watches her target explode with glee, that was good poo poo. Then they throw smoke down and the formerly clear targets become shifting silhouettes. It's probably too far to throw a grenade, and gently caress climbing out of cover, so... "I SEE ONE!" the enthusiastic spotter Arnika shouts (screams?), shaking the barrel and jostling the light pressure on the trigger. ______________________________ A single shot at a random smoke target. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 10 Standard Attack + 10 Short Range + 5 Comrade - 30 Smoke = 45 vs 42 to hit? That's kind of lucky.
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Mar 12, 2015 05:51
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in bunker A pack of scrunts swarm over the humans in the red smoke cloud, and Murdelia shifts her sights along the road to the approaching Tauros. Hitting a speeding armoured car is a lot easier than hitting an indistinct humanoid silhouette locked in hand-to-hand combat with an ally, after all. She debates mentally between trying to make one good shot or spraying a few downrange. She decides to spray. Arnika helpfully points out which one is closer. ______________________________ A burst of fire at the lead Tauros. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 0 Semi-Auto Attack + 20 Enormous + 5 Comrade - 30 Extreme Range - 20 Flat Out = 25 vs 42 to hit? Is 42 my scrunty number?. Skellybones fucked around with this message at 00:59 on Mar 23, 2015 |
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Mar 22, 2015 23:55
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Firing enthusiastically anyway.
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Mar 23, 2015 01:00
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting ineffectually in bunker https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_3sdIEhkNA Tauros approaching from one way. Sentinels from another. Bikers still in hand-to-scrunt combat. An unknown thingie broadcast over the radio. Kreb lurked somewhere in the darkness, being cowardly and useless. Things were not nearly as easy and fun as Murdelia had expected. This required hard, decisive, poorly-thought-out action. Her eyes track back and forth between the approaching Tauros and Arnika. "Arnika" she whispers hoarsely, "Use th' thing. Th' one we lifted from Ol' Scrumpy." Arnika's eyes widen and she successfully pulls out the correct thing from an obscure pouch-like object attached to Murdelia's combat harness. It was supposed to be used for either a post-victory party or some vaguely-defined 'experiment', but there was the notion that it would also be beneficial in combat. As master of chemicals and bodily trauma, Murdelia was almost certain it was not just a mercy-kill euthanasia shot, but some rare and powerful superdrug. The trainee medic-scruntling's hands shake as she tears off the sterile wrapper, uncaps the syringe, and jams it into Murdelia's neck just as she tries to take a more careful shot at a Tauros, which causes her to skew to the side and shoot blindly into the smoky melee combat. ______________________________ Arnika takes up the EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG and injects it into Murdelia as she fires at a Roll 85. BS 40 + 10 Aim + 10 Standard Attack + 10 Short Range - 20 Close Combat Target - 20 Smoke = 30 vs 85 to hit? Skellybones fucked around with this message at 01:05 on Mar 28, 2015 |
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Mar 28, 2015 00:23
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting while on fire Murdelia considers herself quite smart. Definitely smarter than most of, if not all of her 'comrades'. Could any of them make Bathtub Gin without a bathtub?[1] Could they disassemble and reassemble an unwilling scrunt using nothing but common kitchen implements?[2] Could any of them sew as fine a set of jumpsuits as presently worn?[3] For these reasons, and many others, Murdelia considers herself a step above other scrunts. So as a 'trained' 'medic' she was very surprised when a drug injection caused her to burst into flames. She notes with odd calmness that she is not actually being burned by the fire, it's just burning everything around her. Arnika sensibly edges away from her incandescent comrade. Murdelia drops her scrunty lasgun and leaps out of the bunker screaming an ancient warcry, "AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! SLAM!" while tumbling through the underbrush and setting the landscape on fire. Beyond the typical scrunty inclination to set things on fire, there is an encouraging voice in the back of her mind saying YES BURN IT ALL which lets her know that she's on the right track. A squadron of Sentinels emerge from the indistinct road to the north, neatly coinciding with her desire to DESTROY AND BURN AND RUIN. She beelines for the one at the end of the line, waving her scrunty saw and a flaming branch which she picked up from somewhere. ______________________________ Murdelia runs for the rightmost Sentinel, and if possible tries to climb/grapple onto the leg, or something else suitably aggressive. [1]Scrunts do not have bathtubs, in any case. [2]The scrunt is not alive at the end. [3]No.
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Apr 4, 2015 05:13
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting while on fire Murdelia has even less of an idea of what's happening that usual. Was fire still a thing? Was this real life? Explosions? Blinded by her own scrunty miasma of combat rage and oily smoke, she barely spots the immense Sentinel looming over her as it staggers around like an open-topped walker which had been set on fire. It was like a huge, glorious metaphor for her life. Obviously, the good stuff is at the top. Letting fly an ember-filled warcry she manages to right herself and leap at the nearest stomping leg. ________________ Murdelia leaps to her feet and once more attempts to grapple/climb the flaming Sentinel.
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Apr 13, 2015 13:51
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting while on fire With the charred wrecks of the Sentinels wobbling unsteadily above her, Murdelia decides that being on fire might not be so great. Screaming incomprehensible alien phrases, she runs in a broad arc and leaps into the bushes on the south side of the road, then rolls around in the shrubbery and tall grass. Arnika continues watching from the bunker with a wide-eyed stare. ________________ Murdelia rolls around in the grass.
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Apr 21, 2015 10:58
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting while on fire Still on fire, Murdelia zigzags in a broadly easterly direction, bouncing off trees and rocks and shouting incontinently at the sky. Arnika watches her disappear into the undergrowth and goes to help push the Scrunt Limo. ________________ Murdelia is an active threat to those around her so she's wandering in a homeward direction. Arnika is dutiful enough to see that the battlefield still needs work done.
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Apr 27, 2015 14:53
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in confusion Arnika was really getting into the spinny shouty pushing thing, even if her runty size meant her contribution was more to the shouting than the pushing. Then the sound smashed her in the noggin and she went spinning off in a completely different direction, ears ringing and bleeding as the world silently tilted and wobbled. Stumbling off in a random direction, she was stopped by the unexpected obstacle of a bleeding scrunt lying in a tiny, filthy crater. After tripping over the prone form and vomiting on it, she remembers her medical training "A bleedin' scrunt on th' field o' battle c'n be used as c'ver, c'rrency, or c'mpanionship" and drags the unidentified scrunt off in a helpful direction. Maybe to the limo?
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Apr 30, 2015 14:17
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Murdelia Skurvy Scrunting in a limo Murdelia was having the most wonderful dream. She was a fiery goddess, striding across the land. All fell in awe of her radiant glory as they were incinerated by her glorious... radiance. There was a lot of screaming and melting, alright? It was a good dream. A sudden jolt and Murdelia's head is slammed into the metal floor. "FIRE!" she gasps as she jerks up, arms flailing wildly. The nearby scrunts fail to melt, but they do look uncomfortable. Arnika is sitting on top of an unconscious Barry, working intensely on some drawing-thing. She pipes up "Oh yes Mistressus, Groin is doing that." And indeed, Groin is running around outside the window waving incendiary grenades, and a cloud of smoke is rising from somewhere in the underbrush. "He's a good sort, that Groin." "Oh. That's good." Murdelia sighs, slightly disappointed. She had wanted to be the one to do that. It had come to her in a dream, after all. She has to settle for a splitting headache and the smell of burnt hair. After a few more minutes of sitting morosely and trying to set nearby scrunts on fire with her mind, Murdelia finds herself drawn by curiosity. "What's you got there, young Arnika?" she demands. Arnika turns the sheet of cardboard over, revealing a stylised !!SLAM SECTOR! drawn in crayons. The nearby scrunts gasp collectively, and the literate ones almost pass out from excitement. A few even stammer out hasty courting phrases like "I-I-I gots a trash heap a mile high, see, won it in a game", "M'lady, eh, uh, m'lady", and "Feck!" This is drowned out by a rising chant of "SLAM SECTOR! SLAM SECTOR! SLAM SECTOR!" which aggravates Murdelia's headache fiercely. After out-shouting the nearby scrunts, she loudly explains "We ain't goin' to the' Slam Sector! We's goin' to th' Farm! Oh feck, th' tanks!" After a brief panic, a crafty look creeps into her eyes. "Humans're smart, but we can be smarter. They might think we's goin' to th' Sector, but we's not. But we need somethin' big and tricky to trick 'em..." The next crossroad has a crumbling building at the intersection, with a bit of graffiti on it. The Neon Snakes Gang left their mark in bright pink, covering up some old stencilled signs, but the main draw is the large, flat wall surface. Murdelia explains her cunning plan and grabs materials from the technoscrunt hoard. A few minutes later "They'll think we went one way, roight? But we went the other way." she expounds, cheerfully slapping some more glow-in-the-dark paint on the wall, "But we drive down the other other way a bit so it looks like we did, roight?"  It is perhaps too effective. The scrunts viewing it are legitimately drawn to the right and refuse to deviate back to the farm road. The convoy is thrown into disarray as Murdelia and some more clear-headed scrunts try to convince the rest that it's not really to the right, it's a bit of trickiness and oh feck. The crossroads and a decent stretch of road in each direction are strewn with vehicle tracks, debris and effluence as the scrunts mill around in gleeful confusion, egging each other on and forgetting what they were doing. ________________________________________ Ok, trying a Fellowship-type roll to herd scrunts, explain a complicated plan, and keep them on track against the lure of a giant fluorescent SLAM SECTOR sign. 70 vs 42, uh oh Fate rereroll 19 vs 42 Skellybones fucked around with this message at 00:56 on May 12, 2015 |
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May 11, 2015 00:59
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Accidentally deleted post, scrunt
Skellybones fucked around with this message at 08:22 on Jun 4, 2015 |
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May 28, 2015 05:51
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DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:Murdelia how, exactly, are you retrieving the corpses. Are you using any skills or are you moving them yourself?[/i] I'll roll out some tarps and roll/scrape/slide the corpse matter onto them with a shovel or stick. I don't want to touch them. Beer4TheBeerGod posted:Athletics would be a good start. The goal is to ultimately organize the scrunts, promote their overall physical health, develop a group-level sense of comradeship and teamwork, and provide us with a source of entertainment. Plus you were wondering how the hell the indirect targeter was going to work and throwing the ball and watching the scrunts run after it seems like a good idea. This could also train scrunts to instinctively chase after and throw themselves on grenades, which could be good or bad.
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May 28, 2015 14:37
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Murdelia Skurvy Fecking with forces beyond comprehension Murdelia peers out the window at the sound of scrunts fighting. They'll end up here soon enough. Turning back to the Gross Thing, she ponders her options. Her resources and knowledge are somewhat limited, so... Murdelia takes a trusty ten-foot-pointin' stick and carefully prods and pulls to unravel the tarp, then pokes at the object within while trying to identify just what the feck it is. ________________ Visual assessment of gross non-scrunt object: 1d100 49
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Jun 4, 2015 08:20
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Murdelia Skurvy Fecking with forces beyond comprehension Murdelia ignores the sound of gunshots and clicking radiation detectors, shrugs, and goes elbow-deep on the thing. Exploratory Chaos Autopsy: 1d100  100
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Jun 11, 2015 11:14
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Murdelia Skurvy Fecking with forces beyond comprehension Murdelia witnesses the strange goings-ons with Grumb with a remarkably detached air; after all, nothing had actually happened to her yet. But when he honked over to the garage and gronked the scruntinel onto the roof, well that changed a few things. A combat walker on a roof would stick out a bit from the regular landscape, and the gouts of flame aren't helping. The scrunt gang hadn't driven hard and fast and in circles for hours to get away from the Severans just to have a grunting, dancing display on the roof lead them in. "'ere Arnika, clean up for me" she grunts, handing her assistant a bucket of liberated fuel and gesturing broadly in the direction of the weird corpses. Fire solves everything, after all, and she has her samples. At the request of e other scrunts who had apparently found a nuke, she makes a mental note to look into radiation drugs. Wait no, Antiradiation. The grinding of steel on rockcrete and brick continues to accompany gouts of dust and rubble being freed up from Grumb's squiggy-dance, so Murdelia heads out to get a better look. That Yurik character is already out there, looking sinister and nerdish in that most unscruntious way, and Murdelia takes a few photos of Grumb before throwing the camera back at the tech-scrunt. Yurik roars in a bestial fashion at Grumb, who responds by becoming even more noisy and distracting. Clearly, something has to be done. Murdelia glares at Yurik as if this was all his fault somehow. "Yeh can't just roar an' grunt at him all day, tha' just encoirages 'im. 'e is clearly set on being big an' mean, which is part'lly shoutin', but also mostly phys'cal violence, see. Yeh got ta diversify." Turning towards the still-rampaging Squiggrumb, Murdelia shoots a bit at the wall to get his attention and shouts "OI GRUMB! YEH THINK YER THE KING poo poo O' FECK MOUNTAIN UP THAR? GET A LOAD O' THIS THEN!" before turning back to the unsuspecting Yurik and embarking on a provocatively ostentatious display of martial arts, taking the form of a large, burly scruntess tossing a nerd around in a 'mostly' harmless fashion. "Trust me, oim a doctor" she hisses as she prepares to loft Yurik above her head. "HUUUUUUUUARRRGH" __________ Hoping to lure Grumb down by appealing to his bestial nature of loving a fight, and his scrunty nature of loving to beat up nerds. While not seriously hurting Yurik, if possible. Arnika should torch the chaos stuff before Kreb eats it. Skellybones fucked around with this message at 01:07 on Jun 21, 2015 |
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Jun 20, 2015 17:27
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Murdelia Skurvy Fecking about Murdelia is bored and listless. She could do useful things like research the Experimental Combat Drug even now corroding her synapses and corrupting her physiology. She could scavenge some weedkiller or rat poison and turn it into an anti-radiation drug. She could do all sorts of things. But she won't, because she's feeling lazy as gently caress. So she's wandering scruntily between trash piles looking for shiny bits to lift, only to discover a discarded magazine, soiled, but still proudly displaying some kind of product for sale in all good Imperial wargaming outlets. "SIGMOR!" she bellows, punching the nearby heap-scrunt right in the chestal region. "AAAUGH! FACKERS!" "THEY STOLE ME IDEA!"
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Jul 7, 2015 10:15
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Murdelia Skurvy Fightin' The Valkyrie roared overhead, and as it departed there was a brief moment of relative quiet. At least until the drum of fuel detonated and sent a plume of fire into the air.  The wave of heat and light washed over the scene in a flash, revealing the humans who had just dropped down inside the compound wall. A few rulesheets and warscrolls lazily drifted about in the air and after the explosion everything was dark again, but they were otherwise unobscured. One sheet slapped into Murdelia's face, and she was filled with scruntish emotions and memories of wargaming past.  Her first attempt at making a scrunt.  The Pink Slasher.  The Pudding Elemental.  The hosed-Up Tiny 'Fex  And her most recent, expert piece of work. All consigned to the dustbin of history. A poignant reminder of a simple scrunt's mortality, perhaps? Or a brutal commentary on the faceless, aimless march of orthodoxy espoused by the bureaucratic nightmare of the Imperium and it's primary wargaming manufactorum planets? "FACK YOU ALL!" she howls, firing wildly at the enemy. ___________________________________________________ Firing the Scrunt Surgical Laser at a Team One member on Semi-Auto, Aim half-action and Arnika assisting aim. Firing at Team One round 1: 1d100 89
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Jul 10, 2015 07:22
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Murdelia Skurvy Fightin' Murdelia howls in scruntious rage as the enemy advance past her wild shots. Pulling the trigger as fast as she can, the hosed-up tiny laser's barrel starts to glow a dull red and an acrid burning stench begins to emanate from it, almost masking the scrench (scrunt stench). Arnika cheers her on, banging an empty oil drum with a wrench while lighting an Age of Sigmor miniature on fire. ___________________________________________________ Firing the Scrunt Surgical Laser at an unfortunate Team One member on Semi-Auto, Aim half-action and Arnika assisting aim. Shooting Team One again: 1d100 5
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Jul 20, 2015 06:02
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Murdelia Skurvy Fightin' HOLY FACK!" Murdelia fackulates as Hardchestbot bursts into the scene. "Oi had this set on 'Regular!' th' 'ole time!". She quickly fiddles with it and sets it to 'MAX POWER'. "Now watch this, Arnika" Murdelia grunts, gesturing carelessly into the tangle of scrunts and men and firing a single, improbable shot. ___________________________________________________ Firing the Scrunt Surgical Laser at an unfortunate Team One member with an Overload mode Standard Shot, Arnika assisting aim, then half-move one or two squares southwest behind that solid looking cover, away from the angry looking cyborg. Overload Standard shot on Team One: 1d100 2 If that doesn't hit due to the press of the horde then it definitely cored out a scrunt.
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Jul 27, 2015 15:38
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Murdelia Skurvy Fightin' Faced with an enormous angry robot man thing spraying incredible amounts of fire at her, and what seemed to be a sniper, Murdelia grabs Arnika by the neck and charges away from the combat, seeking shelter in the warm, solid cover of the scruntshop where the vehicles were parked. Compared to what was happening out here, it had to be safer, right? ________________ Moving southwest to take cover on the inside of the workshop entrance. I think that's a full move? If it's actually a half move then take a shot at the last Severan inside.
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Aug 19, 2015 15:23
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Murdelia Skurvy Boardin' Seeing the mechanoid monstrosity stomping vaguely towards her, a scrunt hanging off its back like a hosed-up dangling vehicle ornament, Murdelia knew things had gotten much worse than before. She was entirely confident in the rest of the scruntgang being able to take this thing down without her, so right now the most important thing was to get safe and secure in a large metal box which she knew was stored in this very building. Said metal box was now tearing around through piles of rubble, spraying mulched up Severan everywhere, denting the Scruntauros with shrapnel and generally causing havoc. And what luck, the rear door was already open! As she surveyed the battlescape/monster truck arena, a new squad of Severans dropped down from a Valkyrie and immediately began cringing at the devastation. Murdelia makes a run for the dangerously operated Scruntmera, hoping to board it before any harm befalls her. Arnika follows too, nervously glancing back at the thrashing, screaming, metallic monster-thing only a few meters away being torn apart by concentrated firepower.
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Aug 25, 2015 09:17
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Murdelia clambers into the gunners seat in the Scruntmera turret. She had never fired such a large weapon before, but how hard could it be? It was point and click. And now she was encased in invulnerable metal, so a lot of the stress from combat was irrelevant. Looking around the cramped compartment, she saw that it was even more cramped than it should be. Besides the normal scrunt detritus crammed into every corner and spilling off every level surface, a lot of the trash was unusually glossy and hardbacked. Frowning mightily, she swipes a sample off a teetering pile of used rags and peers at it in the dim internal lighting. AGE OF SIGMOR RULEBOOK LIMITED EDITION
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Aug 30, 2015 02:20
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[quote="Skellybones" post="447455403"] Murdelia Skurvy Fecking about Murdelia recoils away from the gratuitous amounts of lubricant that apparently filled much of the gun's internal mechanisms. Not that she's opposed to most scrunty substances, but it is a well-learned habit to identify the gas, liquid or powder before consuming or otherwise interacting with it. A quick sniff and a taste reveals it's largely harmless, so she digs around under the seat for some extra magazines to jam into the oozing mechanism. At least, she assumes that's how it works, she's not really certain on how heavy machine guns or APCs work. _________________________ Murdelia attempts to unjam/reload the pintle gun.
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Sep 6, 2015 09:18
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