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Grimply, not that it particularly matters with so many DoS, but could you gimme a breakdown of your bonuses for that shot? Like Scurrilous' Scurrilous, not that it matters with that weapon, but how're you getting 5 DoS there? Looks like 4 to me - 1 DoS for the pass, then additional ones at 48, 38, 28. Kreb you can fate-point that attack roll if you want. It's not like you need your points for anything else if you're in the turret, as the only thing that'll hurt you are crew criticals and vehicle destruction, neither of which you can really dodge. You can still burn points to survive even if you've spent them all. Alternatively you can keep a point handy if you fear being dragged out and tentacled by the alien. Murdelia I guess you ran places. Incidentally if any scrunt is able to do an autopsy on dudes that have been killed, you are likely to be that scrunt.
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Jan 2, 2015 21:19
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Objects In Rear View Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear The Chapel The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJmdrAgdvvA Urok smashes two more farmers to the ground, spasming like frogs legs. He pounds his chest and roars like a small, smelly gorilla, and immediately realises that he's wearing electrically charged gloves. The capacitors are still at low ebb, though, so he just ends up feeling a slight tickle. He crashes his gloves together again to restart the charging process. Two dead. It seems that after all the back and forth in the recruitment thread about how to do combat I never got round to actually saying each attack has its own roll in two weapon combat. Two weapons, two rolls. So do two rolls in future if you're doing two attacks. Give the two-weapon-fighting page a read, too. Scurrilous unleashes hell from his strange, sparking lasgun array, jamming it across two fire ports. He can't see what he's doing, but better to be lucky than good - it seems a loose wire has shortcircuited three of the component lasguns, as they all discharge their energy down a single barrel. It catches an unlucky PDF trooper in the forehead, making his head explode like an overripe watermelon. Assuming the watermelon was made to explode somehow, I mean. They don't just go off. The remaining beam has less than a full charge, and, after piercing through the splintered crates and chestplate, only has enough power remaining to wind its target. One dead PDF. Gotta kill the mooks before the rocketeers, though, unless you called-shot them! Kreb is still a bit woozy from the sudden electrocution, as one would expect, but that doesn't stop him blazing away with the still-functional multilaser. Unfortunately, in his disorientation he gets a bit confused and once the smoke has cleared it turns out he's simply gunned down some of the cowering, bound, un-molested farmhands that were being offered up to the Xenos beast. Well, gently caress it, they still count as kills. No actual gameplay effects from this. There'll still be some left over after combat and they won't have interaction pluses or minuses because of this. Grimply, with that worrying religious affinity for all things penile, snaps off a shot at centre mass at a cowering PDF trooper. The man moves at exactly the wrong moment and ends up with a perfect nutshot. His pelvis detonates in a flash of energy, and he dies almost instantly. Legshot! Still kills! The only members of the PDF squad left are two rocketeers and the alien Murdelia spasms with chemical energy, scampers over the rubble into the building, and flattens herself against the wall as the Chimera piloted by Groin thunders past her in reverse. Unmodified +0 Agility or Strength test to grab on if you want, your choice. Free action; moving inside the Chimera will be a half action but will not warrant a test despite the fact Groin's swerving around madly in an evasive fashion. Grumb plants his feet squarely on the road and lets rip. He also opens up with his heavy stubber, focusing on making the weirdos in front of him keep their heads down. Bullets pang and spang off the Chimera's side armour as he blazes away in a cone of destruction; the Xenos beast roars defiance and is seemingly unfazed, as the two rocketeers cower at its feet. Amazingly, a lucky ricochet bounces off the statue and splats right into the nape of a PDF trooper's neck, killing him instantly. Suppressing fire at -20 BS to see if you actually hit anything; rolled a 9. Location; rolled a 7. Alien WP test to see if it cares about suppressing fire; rolled a 6. Yes, this was a d100. PDF cower in terror though, failing their willpower roll by an amazing seven degrees. One rocketeer left Gumbo narrows his eyes even further, and headbutts the glass out of the windowframe. Attempting to avoid catching Urok in the blast of his grenade, he overcompensates thoroughly. Thankfully it bounces back off the stairs and catches a farmhand, who had strayed from the melee to line up a shot on Urok, in a blast of flame. A miss! A scatter back! As per Grimply grenade earlier in the fight I'm not giving you the bonus Formation damage for a miss, but you still killed one mans. You have two hands so remind me what's currently in your other hand, as you may wish to use it for combat presently. The xenos beast is displeased by current events. Previously it had servants, and now some dicks in a tank have come and killed them all. Cowards! In their metal box! It barges out of cover, slithering at top speed, determined to take your metal box away from you! Behind it, the lone rocketeer cowers in cover, hands groping for another rocket launcher. The alien barrels out of the chapel double doors, weaving sinuously, effortlessly out of the blast of Urok's grenade trap. Genestealer slithers. This is a Run action, so -20 to hit it, on top of its two dodges per turn. Enjoy  E: except it has used a dodge! It now has one dodge remaining this turn!Basically the squad can't shoot for poo poo thanks to suppressing fire so the genestealer has made an executive decision to go its own way. The remaining rocketeer is at -20 to all tests due to this and can only take half an action each round, but isn't a formation anymore. He is a regular dude who has just Readied another missile launcher. The alien hybrid again slashes at Urok with a venomous claw, but the scrunt dodges out of the way with ease. Its sole remaining farmhand, a squad no more, has considerably more success, beaning Urok right on the nose with the butt of his lasgun. The scrunt doesn't even notice. Fucks sake. 22 for the hybrid is a solid hit; Urok dodges with a 3. The farmer hits on a 3, and rolls a 1 for location  and a further 1 for damage.  THE MAP --------------------- Pls continue to scrunt. The rocketeer is, possibly, a non-issue at this point unless he can regain his wits - that's an automatic willpower check at the end of each round, unmodified, as there's no actual source of fear - because he can't aim and he's got serious attack penalties. The genestealer is probably more of a pressing issue. But hey, it's out of cover!! And you killed off all the formations, just their leaders to go! e: SHOTS FROM THE CHIMERA ARE AT -10 TO HIT DUE TO MOVING TACTICAL SPEED LAST TURN Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 00:22 on Jan 7, 2015 |
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Jan 4, 2015 19:07
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DOWN JACKET FETISH posted:Kreb takes ten damage to the chest, reduced by toughness and armour. You also take one fatigue, meaning -10 to all rolls until you can rest.
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Jan 7, 2015 08:54
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Congratulations, It's A Yee The Chapel The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8_zM8boNL0 so i totally forgot the genestealer has Hard Target, meaning it gets another -20 to BS tests against it if it runs. but i'm not going to retcon that. i will simply remember for next time! Sixty seconds ago there was silence, broken only by the assimilation of terrified farmhands. Now there is horror, and death, and yees. Urok's fist sails through the air, beating the living poo poo out of where the hybrid was standing a sliver of a second ago. Caught off-balance, Urok is grabbed by the snake-like biped. It seizes what passes for his shoulders and unhinges its jaw, staring deep into the scrunt with mesmeric eyes. Urok blinks, then reaches up with both hands and breaks the hybrid's arm. Scurrilous jams his rifle out of the firing port and lets rip. At this range he could hardly miss, assuming he wasn't firing at a preternaturally agile hellbeast from a Giger wet dream. Regardless, some bullets do strike home and make their intended mark - one shot lifts up a chitinous plate and otherwise draws little blood, but the second takes advantage of this opening and penetrates deep into the heart of the creature. A furious howl erupts from the horror as a rib snaps, and with its chitin disrupted it will be easier to harm. Kreb, woozy and confused, yanks the turret around in a ninety degree arc, blazing away with the multilaser. Shots scatter all over the road, devastating the building facade, before he finally zeroes in on the slithery, weaving Xenos. Murdelia and Grumb pour fire into the thing but it skips through the barrage unscathed; its luck runs out with Kreb, however, as it takes two solid blasts to the head and torso. Smouldering and near death, with its dick lasburn now smeared into a full-head phallic mask, it still keeps coming! Groin fingers his grenade uneasily. If it grabs him, will he take the hero's way out? Perhaps rattled by the giant alien snake and the coruscating blasts of death that Kreb is throwing around, Grimply snaps off a shot at the cowering rocketeer. It blazes through the ruined chapel and strikes the trooper in the arm, causing serious burns. The trooper grimaces, but is still barely in fighting condition. Gumbo barrels through the broken window like a furious badger, complete with characteristic waddle. Unlike most badgers, he hops up onto the table and uses the force of his charge to drive his chainsword straight through the torso of the xenos hybrid standing before him, before jerking up with both hands. The hybrid's organs, some of them quite unfamiliar, spill into a heap as the farmhand pales in horror. The alien creature slows its charge, slithering up to the side of the stopped tank which has for some reason parked to enable easier access to its weaker side armour. It flexes out its enormous digging paws, and, seizing hold of the side of the Chimera with its humanoid hands, begins to pound on the armoured flank of the vehicle with terrible, crushing blows. The screams of tortured metal mix with the screams of a creature birthed under the light of distant suns as it smashes through solid plasteel with its blows - once, twice, thrice it strikes with blistering speed, each time causing echoing booms to shudder through the APC's interior. It then bends its head to the rents created in the armour and, tentacles thrashing, disgorges three smaller creatures into the crew compartments! The remaining farmhand doesn't manage to do poo poo. In fairness, he has a hard act to follow. With trembling hands, the remaining rocketeer shakes off his disorientation and aims his rocket launcher through the smoke and gloom at the Chimera.  me am forget map ------------------ Scrunts! I have changed the format of my posts because people were missing stuff I was putting in tiny text. Funny, that. Urok nearly kills the hybrid, although it dodges his first swipe. Scurrilous does mild damage to the yeestealer; he rolls a 4 for his Righteous Fury, damaging the beast's toughness by 6 points! This drops it down by a point of toughness bonus so it is easier to kill. Kreb shoots the living poo poo out of the yeestealer. Practically any damage to the thing now will start causing critical damage, which will incapacitate or kill it quickly. Murdelia and Grumb miss, because they are secretly plotting your demise. Gumbo handily kills the hybrid for Urok. Eight critical damage means only one thing! The yeestealer attacks. It does a half-move followed by a swift attack with both sets of arms; it hits three times against the Chimera's armour of 22, for 2, 4, and 5 damage. Technically minded scrunts nearby can determine that it's mostly penetration causing this, rather than raw damage. Although there's still a lot of the latter. It's got Concussive as well but that doesn't do anything against vehicles. So: Chimera takes 11 damage to the hull. Scurrilous should be tracking damage but I think that brings it down to 24 integrity. It also vomits snakes into the interior of the vehicle. Groin, Kreb and Scurrilous will shortly be bothered by them. They're not really snakes. They are very small and don't interfere with you if you try to shoot at the mommy snake but you will still be attacked by them. They are quite easy to kill if you can hit them. NB: Yeestealer is in melee with the tank. It cannot be shot by the turret, as it is under the arc. Farmhand misses and can only take half an action until he gets out of combat. Which will be never. I mean he can only do a max of 1 damage to you. Rocketeer isn't pinned anymore, and has aimed. Next turn he's probably going to aim and fire. That's the only thing that would make sense for him to do so I may as well tell you. Get scrunting! If you don't finish the combat next round I will be surprised. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 22:58 on Jan 8, 2015 |
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Jan 8, 2015 22:54
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fluid action only works on semi-auto bursts, so we lose those last two rolls
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Jan 10, 2015 21:35
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Sorry dude, looks like Who What Now's gotten confused. Technoscrunt pls update Chimera statblock with the actual rules for fluid action
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Jan 10, 2015 23:57
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Victory Lap The Chapel The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5w0FxbLlKw there is no explicit content what the hell videoman Tired from the fray and from beating the living poo poo out of a lot of people who are all much taller than him, Urok struggles to put his full force behind his attacks on the remaining farmhand. Still, when you're wearing makeshift shock gloves even a love-tap can send your opponent spasming and thrashing, and that's exactly what happens here. The farmer's muscles lock in place and blood oozes from his mouth as he bites through his tongue. Scurrilous, meanwhile, shows the brawler scrunt how it's done by roaring and smashing the living poo poo out of the snake-thing attacking him. Ichor oozes under passenger seats and the creature flops about pathetically for a few seconds before a second blow stills it forever. Groin bursts into the crew compartment just in time to see the aftermath, and his robo-arm instinctively reaches up for a high-five. Kreb opens up at point-blank range with the pintle-mounted storm-rifle, sending a cascade of shells into the alien creature busy trying to impregnate the tank. It is driven back under the hail of fire, its grip on the vehicle loosening as bullets tear through its chest and arms, and, momentarily overcome, it loses its balance and collapses onto its back. It still hisses and yees in a rage, clawing at the ground. Grimply lines up his shot, and, with characteristic skewed scrunty logic, decides the best way to stop the rocket from firing is to make the rocketeer unable to hold the tube! His rifle whines as it builds up a charge, and then cracks like a thunderbolt as the unfortunate trooper's arm detonates in a shower of incandescent gobbets, hurling the corpse back against the rear wall. Murdelia blazes away at the recumbent Xenos creature, aiming for centre mass with a barrage of jagged energy bolts. The thrashing club-arms of the creature deflect or absorb some of the rays, although one particularly fortuitous hit smashes what passes for the sternum of the beast, driving ribs into muscle, piercing lungs, and coming dangerously close to however many hearts it has. She'll know soon. Grumb is a scrunt who knows where he stands. You don't gently caress with a scrunt's ride, and you certainly don't gently caress a scrunt's ride. Bellowing and screaming over the chatter of high-calibre rounds, he unloads his heavy stubber in the direction of the fallen Xenos, in an effort to reclaim the Chimera's honour. Again and again the beast tries to rise as it is smashed back into the ground by sheer weight of fire, until its struggles lessen and slacken. The scrunt continues to shoot the living poo poo out of the creature, and by the time he releases the trigger its corpse has been forced back a good few metres, trailing blackened alien ichor, steaming gently. Gumbo finishes things off nicely by neatly bisecting the remaining farmhand's head. It's not really "neatly" by anyone's standards except a scrunt - he smashes the paralysed human in the stomach with the pommel of the blade, bringing his head down, and then executes a massive overhand swing that catches and eventually chews through the screaming farmer's skull as the sergeant forces the blade down with both hands. The ruined body doubles over, blood pooling, as an unfamiliar, long, serpentine segment of brain slips out of the brainpan and thrashes around briefly. The snake-things can apparently sense the death of their progenitor, and begin to emit faint keening, wailing cries. Groin's snake (so to speak) coils and lunges at the driver, but completely miscalculates and springs past him, splatting into the Chimera's armoured interior wall with a faint squelch. It drops to the ground in plain view. Kreb's snake wends its way up the turret ladder and attempts a strike at the scrunt's legs, but shies away at the last second, perhaps realising what biting a scrunt would entail. As the setting sun illuminates the alien horror bleeding its last on the tarmac, the Chimera's speaker crackles to life. Curiously, so do Scurrilous' implants, Groin's auspex scanner, Murdelia's diagnosticator, and anything else owned by a scrunt that has a speaker of some sort in it. The voice that emerges is unfamiliar. It does not sound angry, or fearful, or any of the emotions that have dominated the recent desperate firefight. "Duuuudde... no waayyyyy... they KILLED it.... It sounds like it would very much appreciate some carbohydrate-based snack products and some relaxed, repetitive music.  i forgot to mark off Scurrilous' snake as dead but it's dead!! ----- Urok stuns the farmer for three rounds and deals Some Damage. Scurrilous kills snaek Kreb Grimply decides he's had enough of limbs for the day and vaporises the rocketeer by shooting the unarmoured, un-covered arm. noice. Murdeila takes the genestealer up to 7 critical damage on the torso, meaning it has to lie still or run a very real risk of dying, and it loses some toughness. Not enough to bring it below the next TB threshold though. Also it can only take a half-action next turn due to the righteous fury effect. Because it had so much planned. Groin scampers into the crew compartment to find Scurrilous hunched over, bashing the living poo poo out of his snake. Grumb kills the 'stealer. It's dead. IT'S FINALLY DEAD. Gumbo kills the farmer. He's dead. snaeks are loving useless and don't hit (on a 96 and 67 respectively), so they can't latch on. go team snake. woo. Combat is pretty much over. Kreb, Groin and Scurrilous, please let me know what you want to do with your snakes and I will scrunt them for you. Because combat is pretty much over, everyone also needs to a) tell me in the recruitment thread what sort of loot you want, and b) think about what they want to do now that combat is over. There's a voice on the radio, there's vehicles to check, there's buildings you've not been in yet, there's still some living, uninfected captives tied up in the main building, there's a dead yeestealer to generally molest, there's ammo crates and corpses to poke around in, there's scrunts to summon, there's all sorts of poo poo you need to do. It is a time for social skills, and non-combat skills, and stat checks. Afterwards will be some more experience. Remember to spend your experience after you get it, please, and log what you've spent it on at the bottom of your charsheet. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:55 on Jan 12, 2015 |
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Jan 12, 2015 21:52
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Looting Like The Mongoloid Horde The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tj489SualKo  it's the farm again!! With the danger over, the scrunts immediately disperse, each looking to their own agenda once more, or alternatively struggling with killer serpents as everyone else ignores them. It falls to Gumbo to thrash out some vague sense of order, a task he undertakes with alarming efficiency. Young scrunts practically fall over themselves to do his bidding and assist the rest of his squadmates. A handful of particularly disciplined scrunts form off into pairs and begin a systematic search of the farmyard, yelling "hup!" and "hoarr!" and "feck" and other words they believe to be military at each other. Satisfied, the scruntgeant waddles over to the Chimera to listen with interest to the mysterious broadcast. The scrunts attend to their tasks... Technology! The Chimera The Farm Scurrilous grabs Groin's snake with his mechandrite and smashes it against the side of the tank until it stops moving, as Kreb stomps his assailant into a fine red smear. A few minutes later, outside the Chimera, the technoscrunt sucks in air through his teeth and makes a slight clucking sound with his tongue as he reviews the damage, before realizing that this is not proper techpriest behaviour. He seizes his respirator and hisses through it for a while, while whirring his mechandrite around. It seems to help him think. It looks like the damage is actually a bit more superficial than first anticipated. The Chimera is a hardy vehicle, after all. Assuming a decent workshop can be found, Scurrilous could probably knock the repairs on the head in about half a day, but honestly there's enough skilled labour hanging around in the form of technologically-minded civilian scrunts that he'd be surprised if it took that long. Now if only he could find the necessary equipment... didn't Grimply yell something about vehicles? Ways Of Making You Talk The Chapel The Farm Civilian scrunts give Urok a wide berth as he does unpleasant things to corpses. He roots around in the unfortunate farmhand's skull and pulls out most of his brainstem, twisting the end off through main force as the corpse jerks and twists like a marionette. Captive, unchanged farmers watch, wide-eyed and gagged. The brawler dumps off some mutated brains at the makeshift triage station being set up in the dormitory, before coming back to menace the survivors with his new toys.  There are muffled squeaks and groans, and one of the farmers faints. At present they are not very forthcoming with information. This begins to be solved once a civilian scrunt edges forward and yanks the gag out of the mouth of the first one. Scalpel, Sponge, Wrench The Dormitory The Farm Scrunts drag beds and lockers out of the way with great enthusiasm, as this means they are spared the duty of dragging the corpse of the huge alien monster that nearly hosed their tank to death. It's still twitching, and slowly pumping out thick black ichor onto the ground that even a scrunt would avoid going near. The makeshift pallbearers lug the body onto a makeshift autopsy table, where it splashes into place and slides off onto the floor. Cursing and shouting, they heave it back up, and narrowly avoid beaning Arnika with its flopping digging paws. Murdelia hustles up and begins laying out her tools, and is poised, scalpel ready to cut, as Grimply yells in from the window. Voices In The Aether The Dormitory The Farm The scrunts that find something unusual about mysterious voices talking to them are gathered around the Chimera radio, or their own devices, to see what it has to say. Currently, that appears to be a lot of giggling and coughing, with several voices audible in the background - when Groin responded to their hail with a traditional Imperial Air Force response, followed by Grumb gruffly demanding to know who he was speaking to, the voice apparently assumed they were dealing with an Ogryn aerial assault force. The scrunts gamely wait for the voice to pull itself together. "Ahah. Ugh. Emperor's balls, man. Right. Ok. We picked up a sign of that alien an hour ago. Our cogboy wants a look at it. We'da had to come get it, which would have taken days, and we woulda risked losing it. But you guys seem to have, ya'know, worked out how to get it to stay still. We want the corpse, dude. You let us have it, we beam you some poo poo, deal? And there's a, y'know, a tight-beam broadcast on your location. Anything with a speaker in a square klick gets slaved to it, anything outside can't detect it. So no-one knows about this little chat. An' you c'n call me Valerius, lads. Armsmaster first rank of the His Everlasting Radiant Fist, Sword-class frigaahaha oh god they'd, right, they'd be in little helicopters ahahaaa" Gales of laughter from the radio. Technology! pt2 The Chimera The Farm They're not tractors. A couple of scrunts came tearing up to Scurrilous in a state of some excitement. Turns out the big central building is a servitor and farm equipment maintenance depot, that can easily be repurposed for work on the Chimera. The vehicles that Grimply saw, on inspection, appear to be... limousines?  What the hell? --------------- Ok, we haven't covered everything yet, but here's a good spot to tie it off. Summary: You've found enough limos for about two thirds of your scrunt population. Why limos?  Why limos here? I dunno, ask the farmers. Radiomans wants your body. Specifically, the body of the alien. That you killed. If you fork it over, you get better loot from this combat. If you don't, you get more knowledge and a couple of relevant scrunts will get the opportunity to purchase skills they otherwise wouldn't be able to. Up to you! If you guys want to ask him poo poo, feel free. Him and his mates sound friendly enough, and quite stoned, and they don't seem to know quite what you are. Chimera will take half a day to fix. You guys will be wanting to sleep soon so effectively it'll take all of tomorrow. It's a relatively easy roll, all things considered, so don't worry too much about overrrun. Murdelia still has brains to autopsy, as well as a genestealer if you don't sell it. Urok needs to be a bit more specific on the interrogation. Please ask some questions that a terrified farmer would be able to answer, rather than simply demanding "form for me a complex narrative" of them. Farm is not yet fully explored. Scrunts have not yet penetrated to the furthest sheds or the silos. Stay tuned for more, but we'll sort this lot out first. oh yeah and the scrunts aced melee vs the snakes, and Gumbo got like 9 degrees of success on the command roll
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Jan 15, 2015 00:09
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Hey Scurrilous I realise I have left the whole "machine workshop" thing a bit open-ended and directionless, so: Please put the following technoscrunty activities in priority order, and tell me what sort of thing you want to accomplish in them, and what parts you are willing to farm out to NPC scrunts (hint: make this the easy stuff). I will give you options and timespans, and stuff you'd have to do to unlock some better options. It's pretty obvious - "mounted lascannon" requires you to find a lascannon, etc.
You scrunts have nothing pressing urging you on other than wanderlust and love of the Sector, but if you spend more than a few days arsing around tinkering in a workshop while nothing else is going on, the NPC scrunts are going to start getting pissed off at you, and the farm will see invaders. I'm not looking to make this a tower defense game though, you're the ones who wanted a roving mad max warband. Nothing stopping you from tinkering between missions, though, and this will be ameliorated somewhat if the other PC scrunts do in fact have poo poo they want to do around the farm that would take time. Other scrunts, do you have poo poo you want to do around the farm that would take time? also hello owls
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Jan 15, 2015 23:20
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Scraggling The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zw-uGY1WayE i wish you could embed youtubes without the actual video Serving Suggestion The Farm Kreb consumes the snake-creature. In turn, the snake-creature consumes Kreb. There isn't much in the galaxy that is drawn to consume the flesh of Tyranid creatures. Kroot burn it; Orks stomp it; Chaos beasts shun it; Kreb, apparently, has a taste for it. But even a creature that subsists mostly on volatile chemicals and industrial runoff cannot blithely consume this particular xenos meat. The acids of the scrunt's stomach conmingle and mix with the acid blood of the alien serpent, providing just the environment needed for the creature's phagocytes and metastasizing hunter-killer malignancies to take off at an amazing rate. Astoundingly, however, the ravenous microscopic consumers of the Hive are held at bay for now by whatever passes for the scrunt's metabolism; aided by that unexpected influx of vitamins a few days ago, Kreb appears to be fighting off the worst of the internal invasion. The scrunt has no idea of all this, of course. He just feels really gassy and- urp. Kreb's passed a difficult toughness test to not get poisoned, aided by that +10 he got from his pea soup way back when. Kreb may either vomit out the chunks of snake, or be altered by xenos genetic material. He might get sensitivity to the hive mind, allowing him to detect nearby tyranid creatures, but also synapse creatures or free-roamers like genestealers will be able to use Command tests on him to influence - but not control - his actions. Voices In The Aether The Farm Grimply delivers his demands in the voice of a seriously-wounded sergeant. They stop laughing eventually. "Hahaa, Hardchest man, you're one funny motherfucker. Find a Xenos, find you, figures. Good to hear from you again, but poo poo, sounds like the snake really did a number on you, bro. Gahahaa. Operation clearance. Hahaa." A pause, some bubbling noises. "Bet you'd just love to have your superiors talk t'mine, huh? Scare the poo poo out of Captain Drennius, yeah. He'd be all 'Ooohh Sergeant the Septiminians want a quick word, should I wear the blue gown or this racy little black number?' Fucker thinks going interstellar is his ticket to the bigtime." "But seriously man, we're only doing ore runs for another month or so. Get yourself stitched up, come down south, I'll take a lander. We'll square the time off with your barracks, no probs. Call it consultancy." Another bubbly pause. "You get that xenocorpse out on the road and get everyone a couple dozen metres away from it, we'll beam you some poo poo we took off a pirate cutter that we ain't officially inventoried yet, everyone's happy. Well, 'cept the Ophidian." Scrunty demands are communicated. "You want maps, dude? I thought you knew every inch of this forest? gently caress it, we'll throw it in, but there's wear and tear on the auspices, man. That poo poo comes out of your cut. But the lho's free, dude. You'll love it. We got an arboretum full of it" It appears you guys are up for the trade but I will give you a couple days to make any final counters, refusals, or questions. Door Number Two The Farm Groin busily licks the limousines, running his hands over their sleek, armourless curves. It's busy, thirsty work, and he has to pause and rehydrate every so often with cans of scrüntbrau, the taste that refreshes. He ponders their combat capabilities. quote:Type: Wheeled Vehicle All in all, there's ten of these things, and a smattering of spare parts. That's a lot of tongue. They do seem low on fuel, though. Did they drive here? Come to think of it, the machine shop doesn't look suited to limo maintenance, and there's no dust on those spare parts... Local Fauna The Farm The scrunts roam around the farm with their characteristic aimless determination, turning the place over and looking for nothing in particular. Grumb collects an ominously ticking Barry from the front gate, where he is camped out with Barrius, and they circle back to the Chimera as civilian scrunts wander to and fro. Urok continues to vaguely menace the captive farmers without actually asking them anything. One of them eventually finds their voice. "What are... what do you want? Have you rescued us?" Groin is busy sexually interfering with vehicles, while Scurrilous and his work-gang continue to heap up supplies and scrap for vehicle maintenance, presumably to counteract this. As low-level electrovox subterfuge is conducted by the others, Gumbo surreptitiously smokes a cigar. He is interrupted when he notices two small scrunts running excitedly towards him, waving and tripping and yelling and pointing towards one of the as-yet-unexplored sheds. "Boss boss boss come feck look lookkit this feck look!" It's not fear the scruntgeant reads in their eyes, just plain old excitement. Maybe that's because Kreb's scuttling in that direction, lasblaster in hand. ----------------- Good scrunting, all. So: If you aren't happy with selling the yeestealer for loot speak up, otherwise next update it's going. If there's anything you want to do to the corpse before it goes, now is the time. No shopping list for technoscrunting yet, because if you get loot it will be useful, but will not simply come in the form of items. It might be crates of armour plates or some poo poo, or a half-wrecked missile interceptor you can cannibalise, or something. Or it might be a dozen pallets of corpse starch to feed your scrunting horde, who knows. It will probably inform your options for Limos need fuel for long-range operations. They've got about a hundred miles left in 'em. What are you doing with the captives, are you just leering at them or what. No infected farmhands remain, this is just bound and gagged dudes. There's like eight of them left, some died in combat. Scrunts want to show you a shed. Go along if you like. You won't be forbidden from interacting with skyvoice if you're off in the shed, and vice versa, we assume these things happen concurrently. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 00:03 on Jan 20, 2015 |
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Jan 19, 2015 22:12
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Regrouping The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NZf15xVrOW8 pictured: Groin's mental image of himself Ways Of Making You Talk pt2 The Chapel Urok puts his questions to the terrified farmers with characteristic vehemence; they seem desperate to answer them, but they also seem slightly unsure as to what the questions actually are. There is a certain amount of disorientation present in their responses; they have gone from hapless snakefodder to the subjects of an incoherent tirade from a walking, muscly egg-creature in a very short space of time. "We... ahhh!!" The farmer jerks back in alarm as Urok screams into his face. "We don't know what that thing was!" Another farmer chimes in, if "chime" can be applied to a man inches from a stress-induced psychotic break. "We were in bed, we work the night shift, I don't know where the day guys are! All I know is I woke up with a gag in my mouth and got marched downstairs by those Moderators! They took us downstairs one at a time and cuffed us up, then that loving hellbeast started DOING poo poo to everyone! Then you showed up and killed everyone and ran your tank over half of us! Get your loving eyes out my face, man!" Questions about the Emperor appear to evoke some confusion. "Are you... like, mini Ogryns? Where did you guys come from? Look, man, the Imperium's hosed us. Kept demanding more and more in tithe, we had a couple years of bad harvests. These Severan guys shipped in enough for all Malbrathia. They've done alright by us. " After some conferring, the farmers also manage to put together a vague indication of what towns are nearby. In short - not many. This is hinterlands; you've got camps, you've got colonies, you've got farm complexes that specialise in light agriculture, it is relatively light on major urban centres. It's all rather sensible, although whether Urok will take it as such remains to be seen. They don't know much about local troop disposition, being farmhands. One of them remembers seeing a squad of some sort of battletanks the other week, but that was heading east, towards the front. They looked in good condition, though. Big cannons. The general consensus appears to be that there's a steady trickle of troops heading from the encampments way out west, to the front way out east. A moment's thought would indicate that this cannot be the primary throughfare for troop movements, because it is a backwater. The farmers try their best to give the brawler scrunt an idea of nearby landmarks and settlements, but he'll have to confer with Grimply to get it all straightened out. In the meantime, they eye him warily, and with growing suspicion. Speak to the scount, and Grimply will be able to tell you what's nearby. If the question is "Is X within operating distance" the answer is probably "yes", unless X is something big like a seriously military base, spaceport, major city, tank convoy, etc. If you want one of those, it will require more legwork than menacing some farmers. You aren't getting much regarding local troops. These guys are farmers. It was only the hefty circumstance bonus that let you pass this intimidation roll, by the way. They might have been friendly if you hadn't, like, kept them bound and menaced the poo poo out of them. More!? The Farm What have the scrunts found? Why, it's corpses! Looks like the day shift were herded into this shed and then shot. Weird. Gumbo's knowledge of imperial tactics allows him to figure out why the night-shift workers didn't hear anything, though - the distance, and thick walls, is probably enough to soak the noise of lasgun cracks if staggered. Why didn't the alien creature try to infect this lot, though? He could always ask Kreb. By this point the parasitic alien cells have reached an uneasy truce with his terrifying biology, and the scrunt begins to change subtly. He remains scruntily unaware of this, although his brain structure is being slowly rewritten, and consciousness of an impossibly vast presence at unimaginable distances begins to permeate his psyche- wait, the civilian scrunts are still tugging at sleeves and pointing to the next shed along. Looks like they have more to show. As the door creaks open and light floods the barn, dozens and dozens of scrunts peer incuriously up and down from the rafters, the floor, the shelves, from everywhere. These scrunts seem unfamiliar. They don't seem unfriendly, insofar as you can say that about a scrunt, but no-one recognises any of them from the drop site.  There is also a wizened old scrunt taking pride of place in the centre of the floor. This is mostly because he is locked in a sturdy-looking padlocked cage. Welcome Kai Tave as Yurik, scrunt loremaster!! Also Kreb takes six insanity points as he slowly changes. Triage The Farm Murdelia has given carté blanche for medical attention. If you want healing, do a roll for her; you are rolling against 82. Rules as written diagnosticators are only used for finding out what's wrong with someone and if you use it on a scrunt it will simply return "EVERYTHING". However, apparently medkits come with a separate, magic diagnosticator that can't be used separately and DOES give +20. Nice going, game designers! So you're rolling against Int 42 + 10 (trained assistant) + 10 (Medicae+10) + 20 = 82. If you have damage equal to or more than half your Wounds stat, you are Seriously Wounded (but the scrunt still burns). This is -10 to the above test. If the roll is successful, you remove 4 + 1 DoS damage. If you guys hang around the farm for a while and aren't taking part in strenuous activity, you can enter Extended Care, which is basically the same roll every 24 hours to remove double that. Murdelia you can still gently caress around with brains and the non-multilasered hybrid corpse, and you'll get some info on a success (and something nasty on a failure), but you won't be allowed to buy skills from it. Payday The Farm "Alright, bro, we're gonna send down some poo poo for you. My guys'll be down in twenty - urp - thirty minutes to come pick up the body. Need to prep it for teleport. Wish we coulda grabbed it when it was moving, but apparently at this range that woulda resulted in thin xenos soup, so, y'know. Cool. Scrunts yammer and gawp as nondescript crates flash into existence. They're spread over a pretty wide area. An elderly scrunt bellows in surprise as one materialises through his leg, detonating his limb. This teleportation business seems risky; that final crate took ages to come through, and what was with all that distant screaming and visions of destruction? Oh, right. Scrunts. Bedlam descends, as looting occurs. Afterwards, in the absence of instructions to the contrary, a few muttering and surly medical scrunts drag the dead alien back outside, carefully avoiding the previous blood smear, and dump it unceremoniously in the middle of the road before wandering off. There's a lot of garbage like glass beads and feathers, presumably for impressing feral worlders or something, but there's also some good stuff in this shipment. Civilian scrunts run around gleefully clutching now-empty bottles or sturdy jumpsuits, as more discerning minds pick over the important stuff The Loot posted:
Seems these guys are really keen on getting that body. Alternatively, this could just be pocket change to them - they don't seem to be taking the situation particularly seriously. There's a couple of kilogram bags of extremely dank lho, as well. A handful of seeds are included. They seem fey and willowy compared to the squat, wizened ones you are used to. zero-g weed will likely not grow planetside without serious farming acumen ------------- Divvy it up, scruntlords!! Shopping list for car parts will come later because there is still short term stuff to do and I am tired. Your action points are as follows: What's with the caged scrunt? And what are the other scrunts doing to him? And what are the other scrunts doing THERE? Spacemans are coming for your corpse. You going to meet them, hide from them, ignore them? Loot! Work out who gets what. Sort your wounds out. Update your loving character sheets or I will kill you with GM fiat. Farmers are still mostly bound, partly gagged. They are not happy at the moment. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 12:20 on Jan 24, 2015 |
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Jan 22, 2015 23:03
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Volcanic Machinery The Workshop The Farm Scurrilous huffs into his respirator, mechandrite turgid, thoughts racing. And thoughts racy, for a technoscrunt such as him. The miscellaneous machinery and other such junk from the teleported loot pile has been dragged into the workshop, where the freshly-licked limos gleam and glisten under fluorescent spotlamps, and he has a bit of peace and quiet to tinker with the machines. He considers what he can do, and how long it will take, and whether his erection will ever go away. You have 12 work-hours in a day; +0 Toughness test to push it to 16. Cumulative levels of fatigue on failure that only go away following a full day's rest. quote:Chimera stuff Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 18:29 on Jan 24, 2015 |
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Jan 24, 2015 18:11
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Planetfall The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hugowO0sSrM this video's really amazing but has nothing to do with scrunting Shedlam The Sheds Kreb undulates distressingly as he jams his vibroblade into the padlock. Once, twice, and spang, the metal shears off and flies into the depths of the shed. It beans a scrunt sitting on a rafter, who collapses and plummets into a pile of straw, poleaxed. The others stare dumbly, but the idea of freedom beings to percolate through their skulls, and some of them begin to try to shuffle out into the daylight, blinking like owls. They are swiftly curtailed by an onrushing horde of external scrunts, gathered up by Grumb and Gumbo. The civilians inexplicably seem to think being jammed into a crowded dark barn is great fun, and kick up a great ruckus, shouting, fighting and scrunting once they realise they've met a bunch of new friends. The noise is probably bearable, though - these rockcrete buildings muffled the sound of lascracks from the day shift workers being shot, they can probably muffle a few chants of SLAM SECTOR. The agrarian scrunts are a bit pissed off that they're starting the farm inspection by being corralled into a shed, especially because Grimply had gotten them all psyched up, but they'll probably get over it. Eventually. Yurik has been freed, but the great mystery of who imprisoned him in the first place still remains, along with the greater mystery of why this shed was full of scrunts hanging around aimlessly. There also remains the slightly more prosaic mystery of where all his stuff is. Hopefully it's around here somewhere. Meanwhile, someone seems to have lit a large chunk of the hydroponic space weed. Embelli Shed The Workshop Scurrilous's robot buddy has long since driven the Chimera into the machine shop (foiling my Ctrl+F for "Chimera" in the process) - Scurrilous himself, and a handful of mechanically inclined scrunts, follow suit, retreating into the dark of the garage to do esoteric things with gears and grease and camshafts. Muttering, sawing, and occasional gunfire is heard, although Scurrilous remains confident that during pickup of the xenos corpse he will be able to hush his idiot companions sufficiently. In the meantime, they get on with preparing the limousines for scruntifying, removing seats and spraying decals. Blood Shed The Chapel The farmers visibly perk up once they hear Grimply mention more incoming humans, but are cowed back into sullen silence by his veiled threats. More than a few of them look like they'd speak up if Urok wasn't hanging around, armed to the teeth, blood dripping from his new axe. It looks like a lot more blood than it actually is; it spirals across the blade down a delicate filigree of channels across the head of the weapon, pooling at the top of the haft and dripping down onto his new chainsword, lubricating teeth that will never spin through that housing again. Grimply that was pretty clearly an Intimidate check rather than a Deceive check, so you've rolled that instead. Urok's assistance plus circumstance bonus means you pass. Urok you won't be able to get Scurrilous to upgrade the axe with chainteeth without sacrificing its quality, which would make it strictly worse than your existing mono melee weapon. Also I found stats for an axe so I'm going to update the OOC thread with them; previously I was using warhammer stats. Murdelia watches the forlorn medical orderly team drag the steaming, stinking Xenos through the gates and out into the middle of the road, lying heaped in a pile like the most unlikely roadkill in existence. Quite a lot of alien remains stuck to the tarmac, as it has been slowly cheesegrated off during its travels from road to chapel to road again, but hopefully the corpse should still be in usable condition for... whatever the humans have planned. One of the snake-parasite things shakily emerges from the body and mewls slightly, before being stamped on by a scrunt. Relinqui Shed The Road True to their word, a squad of humans crack into existence half an hour after the woozy sky-voice said so. These guys don't look like they're loving around - about ten of them show up in the same location as the crates, heavily armed and armoured. Ceramite plates and full helmets are the order of the day; most are touting backpack-fed rifles of some kind, but a few carry what look like gigantic, multibarrelled shotguns with surprising ease. Two are unarmed, and hold technical or medical equipment - Scurrilous, Groin and Grimply are slightly alarmed to recognise a handheld auspex scanner on one's belt, easily capable of detecting a vast colony of scrunts lurking in a shed, but he doesn't appear to be paying any attention to it. They seem alert and disciplined as they follow the corpse's trail out to the road, barely glancing in at the destruction in the chapel. On finding the alien corpse they form up in a cordon, as the two technical guys stand hands on hips, slowly shaking their heads at the ruined mess at their feet. After a minute or so they seem to come to some decision; one of them touches the side of their helmet in the universal signal for "I am speaking to someone" and shortly afterwards something new smashes into existence back among the loot crates. They then hook up a few cables and drips to the body before taking samples and wrestling the beast into an enormous body bag. Another human begins firing up a complicated piece of tech - after activating the secondary, tertiary and ancillary skulls he attaches it to a telescoping pole and hoists it aloft, where it chimes faintly. After a couple of minutes of this its cadence changes, and the humans crouch down and crack out of existence again. The contented voice returns to the radio. "Heyy, man, we got it. You guys did a number on it, huh?" before trailing off giggling. "Look, man, you see any more of these things, you reckon you could not gently caress 'em up so bad? Get us a live one, dude, we'll friggin' owe you. Sent you summat else, should help with that. You get a live one, you web it up, you stick the homer on it, you're made, man. I mean, we checked with your base, dude. They want your squad on guard duty for the next week so I thought gently caress it, man, it's something about a fuel convoy, you're meant to meet it down Taerea way in a few days or something? By the bridge? You ain't getting shot up guarding that thing. No-one steals fuel. We'll catch up after, dude, lemme know what you think about my offer. What? We- a'ight, we're going behind the moon now, so peace ou-" He crackles off. He wasn't lying; in addition to the existing piles of loot, there now exists a smaller, cleaner crate containing a web rifle and a device very similar to what the armoured humans used earlier. This is exotic stuff; it yet remains to be seen whether scrunts have a word for "suspicious" in their native tongue. Wait, did he say "fuel"? Ah, gently caress it, it's late. 500 xp to everyone; fatepoints refreshed! ------------------------ Scrunting has occurred. Please shout in OOC thread if I have ignored anyone by accident. Spacemans have been and gone, unless anyone interrupts them! I have assumed you spied on them; they were so focused on getting their job done quickly (ru shed, if you will) that they didn't really look for observers. If anyone wants to interrupt them we shall timewarp, but they are heavily armed. Did any of that seem suspicious to you? Military precision, heavy gear? Scurrilous at least knows that teleportation is seriously energy-intensive, and come to think of it, that sort of targeted comms-hijacking isn't cheap either. Even with plasma reactors, energy costs. Someone is unknowingly spending money on scrunts! Wounds are still current. No-one has healed yet. Maybe heal. Autopsies have also not happened yet; literally just waiting on a "Murdelia chops up some dudes" to get it going. FUEL has been spotted, by a wonderful coincidence. At your best guess from the maps, and from snippets of radio chatter from the Chimera, you have three days to meet a convoy at a specific spot about ninety kilometres away. It's late in the day now, so that translates to approximately two full work days to get there in time. Gumbo knows that if Sgt Hardchest doesn't report in at that point he'll be flagged as AWOL, presumably making use of his voice more problematic; remember the vox operator guy who covered for the dead squad? He's getting Hardchest out of here and reassigning him to a distant base, but even he can't handwave AWOLing! It is late at night; finish up, go to bed, maybe send people to get the rest of the scrunt population over the next couple days. You guys have two days in which to Do Stuff; this will mostly be technoscrunting, but is there anything else you want to do to the scrunt population? Fortify farm, attempt to sow weed, repair relations with the scrunt subfactions, persuade/train scrunts to do stuff? You've already kinda scouted this area, and you have maps; there's not much point in ranging any more. Two days = two Extended Care tests for seriously wounded scrunts, by the way. There are new scrunts. Why? Ask? You don't have anywhere enough vehicles for this lot; with the newcomers, you can probably carry about half your population. Farmers still exist. At some point you're gonna need to feed them, water them, and take them for walks. If you don't guard 'em they'll eventually escape. Update your loving character sheets or I will stab you with a screwdriver; this involves putting your XP spend at the bottom, updating new equipment, IP and CP, and sorting out any wounds. You're gonna have another couple fights before the next batch of XP, Fate and loot.
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Jan 27, 2015 22:00
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Downtime The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-s9LdQPXF4 Removed from immediate danger now that the humans have vanished and the previous occupying force has been annihilated, most of the newly discovered scrunts disperse. They mill around aimlessly, squabbling amongst themselves, fighting, peering at things, spreading feculence around what was once a perfectly pleasant farm, and eventually passing out, huddled in groups under the stars or draped over the shattered remains of beds in the dormitory. More enterprising scrunts head upstairs to the first floor of the farm-chapel, claiming the beds and personal possessions of the executed farmhand day shift. As is traditional, not a single scrunty gently caress is given regarding plans for the future, for sustenance, for long-term plans, or for doing anything but reacting to current events and gawking at things. The new scrunts happily commingle with the existing group; absolutely no curiosity is shown as to where all these new faces came from, or why silent aliens were killing or converting all the previous occupants of the farm, or if anything else with massive powerful tank-busting digging claws is going to come slithering up the tunnel that undermined the southern walls of the farm complex, and the groups seem to merge quite happily. Humans would doubtless burn the farm to the ground before spending the night in such a cursed, xenos-tainted place; scrunts have no such qualms. An uneventful, restful couple of days pass for the majority of the scrunts. New diseases are swapped, crude moonshine is brewed, and that's about as much excitement as most of them manage. There are exceptions, of course. Scurrilous works like a creature possessed, and his impromptu work-gang of technicians work with him. Sawing and hammering and welding and screaming can be heard from the hotboxed workshop on casual inspection, and the screeching of metal harmonises nicely with the screeching of scrunts. It is as yet unknown what exactly Scurrilous is working on; if it's large-scale metalworking then presumably some sort of mobile forge like the one languishing untended at the original dropsite would help him work faster, but maybe he's just tinkering. Once the scrunt-off between Yurik and Grumb is resolved, the gunner claims the empty execution barn, once all the corpses have been transferred to the kitchen by gaggles of scrunts. The captive farmers pale in horror as they see their day-shift colleagues, but that's nothing to how they react once the noises of food preparation begin. They are strangely unwilling to accept the subsequent proffered stew. Grumb sets up a couple of targets - ruined PDF helmets on scarecrows, heaps of compost, that sort of thing - and passes his spare time merrily blazing away in this makeshift gun range. He is joined by a good number of the more adventurous scrunts, who claim discarded autoguns and wrecked lasguns and try their luck. Some of them even get the gun the right way round. The scrunts with most promise are those who have been hanging around with the main gang, and consequently have some degree of combat experience - at the end of the two days of very, very basic training, Barry, Plek, Pilk, Arnika and all the little scrunty comrades might now actually be of some use in combat. Murdelia prepares to spend a busy few hours rummaging around brains. As a warm-up, she practices her stitching on the weird tanned human skin suits that came down with the supply drop. It's long, thirsty work, but the fact that she doesn't have to break off to subdue her subjects every few minutes means it's also some of her best work. It takes her an entire morning, but by the end of it she has four high-quality, rhinestone-encrusted skintight combat suits, sized for scrunts, that protect all the vulnerable bits and look pretty snazzy while doing so.  Firstly, she has a look at a normal human brain. The bodies in the barn aren't using theirs, so she rescues one from the cookpot and drags it through to her ward - halfway through, she realises she just needs the head, so she ditches the excess. The captive farmers react as expected. She pokes around. This regular humie brain's still in quite good nick, even though it's been sitting out at room temperature for a few hours - there's really nothing special that she can determine about it. It's got all the grey wrinkly bits and white gooey bits she's come to expect; it's considerably bigger than a scrunt brain, of course, but she scornfully dismisses that as inefficiency. Double-checking against an even fresher one, much to the captive farmer's dismay, she establishes a baseline to compare to the infected farmhands, and the hybrid. It's lucky she did - an infected brain is practically unrecognisable. It's got an inverted structure, its cortex is where the frontal lobes should be, and it's got the spinal connection on the top- oh, right, it's upside down. Maybe Urok should have left it in the head. Once it squelches back up the right way around, it's a bit easier to handle. Murdelia can see strands of strange, fibrous yellow material infiltrating throughout the entire cranium of her infected farmhand subject, which trace back to a horrible looking snake-like growth wrapped around the upper cortex and spine. Tipping back the head to look down the throat, she realises what the alien had been doing - the entry vector for these snake-things is brutally simple. It gnaws through the back of a victim's throat and infiltrates the spine that way. It looks like once it's in place it starts flooding the host with endorphins, but until it lodges, they feel everything. There's a big yellowed nodule near what would be the snake-growth's head, but it's entirely out of her experience. Perhaps an expert in xenology could take a look. The hybrid brain really is unrecognisable. She checks and re-checks, but it's definitely the right way up. The sensory cortices are enormous, and although there's no snakey growth in there, there is a corresponding yellowed nodule right in the centre. It looks like the hypothalamus has been kicked into overdrive, too - this hybrid probably has a surprising amount of control over its metabolism. Unsurprisingly, Murdelia also finds poison-secreting glands in the throat and armpits; she finds this out the hard way as an orderly scrunt keels over, but at least this gives her a scrunt brain to compare. Regardless, these poison glands seem underdeveloped - it's not unreasonable to think a more advanced hybrid might be able to spit or hurl venom, instead of simply injecting it. --------------------------- In the middle of the second night there is a crash and a lot of shouting. This is not particularly unusual in a building full of scrunts, but this shouting is different! More coherent! Dazed civilian scrunts lie around in front of the chapel altar next to a conspicuously empty, broken bench. The captives have escaped! They can't have gotten far! --------------------------- brains Right, there's been some very good roleplaying and posting that I'm very happy with, but apart from that you've mostly all done gently caress all so far. So I have had civilian scrunts act accordingly. Shout if you want to do other stuff because otherwise the next update is going to be quite short. "The scrunts continued to do gently caress all, then drove off". Mind you, no-one has actually said "hey let's go for the fuel" so, y'know, after the two-day deadline you could just be hanging around this farm until you all starve to death or get wiped out by a passing plane squadron. If you have poo poo you would like to do, e.g. fortification, fiddling around on the radio, poring over the maps, now is the time to say something. Be adventurous. Scurrilous is yet to produce a statement of works; that's fine, we've really got until the next combat for that as it can be bunged in retroactively. Murdelia has dissected, and learned some horrible truths that would result in insanity were she not Jaded. She is out of her comfort zone though and needs specialist advice on what the nodules and poo poo are; this isn't the biology she's used to. Shout if you want me to translate medical findings into actual mechanical rule stuff, by the way, but that will come after someone else has had a look. Skinsuits have been adapted; they're all Good quality now, Murdelia got a 2 on her armouring. Normally this is a specialist skill but there's wiggle room because medic, stitching, and all that. Any scrunts wishing to dress in synskin will need an hour spent being measured and generally molested. Optionally, your suit can let you take +10 to Charm rolls when dealing with easily-impressed-by-shiny-things people, rather than +10 to Stealth rolls when avoiding detection by scanners. Crash-site scrunts need collecting; if you get the forge it will speed up large metalworking projects a little. Captive farmers have reached their limit and have escaped. You going to do anything about that? It's the middle of the second night, you can be literally anywhere in the camp if you want. This isn't combat. Regarding the new scrunts in the barn, I don't have some magic combination of keywords you need to hit for me to tell you why they're there. It's up to Kai Tave if anyone asks; I have no idea why they're in there. They just are. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 16:33 on Jan 31, 2015 |
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Jan 31, 2015 16:30
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The Night Of The Scrunt Day 2 of 2 The Farm And Immediate Surroundings Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-IjaOryWaU im really sorry about the anime but the song is good Grimply might be a horrible insane little dwarf, but you don't live off the land of a hostile planet on your own without picking up a few things about fieldcraft and tracking. You also don't go hunting down eight hostile creatures twice your size without backup, so before chasing the abused, fleeing, possibly-completely-insane farmers, he casts around desperately for assistance. Unfortunately, all of the other passably competent scrunts are nowhere to be seen. Grimply turns, and- aaaagh!  At his shoulder, and now extremely close to Grimply's face, Urok appears ready to follow. The two scrunts disappear into the night, hot on the trail of the escapees... -------- Meanwhile, Murdelia dozes. She's been bashing the brains around all day, and dozens of other scrunts have wandered over to have a poke around, a rummage, a taste, or simply a gawk. She hasn't gotten rid of them yet though, and they're starting to pulse faintly when no-one's looking. Soon, once she is fully asleep, they will make their way towards her and co-opt her higher functions, dedicating her life to serving thoLY poo poo WHAT IS THA- Kreb bursts in. He feasts. -------- Yurik revels in his freedom by doing what scrunts do best; a detailed and comprehensive survey of all available cartographic information. Erm, hang on. Well, however the aberrant scrunt chooses to spend his time is entirely his choice, and you shouldn't judge him for it. He lays out all eighty square metres of map on the top floor of the chapel-complex, and cajoles a small group of scrunts, including his much-abused punching bag, into making sure no other scrunts get in his way while he's mapreading. Plenty of scrunts get in his way while he's mapreading. Still, it's actually a blessing in disguise - as he chases away a curious scruntlet from the corner of the map and approaches the rendezvous point from an unfamilar angle, several map features come to mind that the scrunts could use in their assault. These maps are very up to date... --------- Scurrilous works like a dog. And not just any dog - a highly motivated dog, with a worrying knack for bodge jobs. He pushes himself to the limit, inhaling more fumes and metal filings than even a scrunt should handle, unless it's a special occasion, like a Tuesday. His works lie before him... Who What Now posted:1) Repair the Chimera, 6 Hours (repair time halved due to SCR's new Servo-Arm); 83 vs 80 - MARGINAL FAILURE, job takes 1hr longer! Now, let's see how those scrunty underlings have performed... ------------------------ curses Grimply and Urok are stalking men through the woods, as is their way. Urok has his new gloves on. They're p snazzy. Murdelia and Kreb are having a Moment. Both scrunts are unaware that Murdelia has been saved from the predatory brains. Kreb is engaging the brains in hand-to-mouth combat, but there's been time for others to look at them if they want to point stuff out. Kreb continues to change into a scruntanid, although with no real effect as of yet. Yurik has, uh. Well, he's got Total Recall. He's pretty much memorised the map. He can't actually navigate, but he can give +30 to any Navigate: Surface checks that get made. He also got like an 8 on his Scholastic Lore: Tactics roll; consequently, when it comes to assaulting the fuel convoy, you guys get to pick three beneficial terrain features. It can be cover, it can be a fallen tree, it can be whatever you want within reason. The maps are really up to date - like, two days old now - so it can easily be something that's just happened. Scurrilous did distressingly well on his tech rolls, as per usual. Hssss. The only botch was the frag defenders. He gets another 4 hours, if the forge is forthcoming. The mechaniscrunts ain't done poo poo yet, as no-one's commanded them and no-one's supervising them.
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Feb 2, 2015 21:54
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Scrrunnnnnnnnnnnt The Farm & The Dropsite Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmMwjaaTbsE what have the scrunts made!! Summons, The Dropsite Day One Gumbo stands hands on hips at the dropsite, his limousine spinning on its roof in the muddy field some distance in front of him, shoved round and round by enthusiastic groups of scrunts. Other scrunts cling to the wheel axles, yelling, and eventually falling off and vomiting. Pirk desperately claws at the driver's seat window, but can't get it open. The driver's cabin is awash. The sergeant stands in the drizzle, surveying what the scrunts have gotten up to in the absence of any supervision. He is shaking his head. The corpses of the unlucky PDF squad have vanished, presumably into the large makeshift stew pot bubbling away over a vile, smoky fire, and a good deal of the scrunts now wear scraps of PDF clothing. Sgt Hardchest's body is nowhere to be seen, either. There's a few scrunt corpses dotted around to the west, which would normally be cause for concern if it were any other species currently occupying this area. As it stands, there's less bodies than expected. Scrunt housing has been erected, by the simple expedient of leaning heavy bits of metal against each other, and large groups of scrunts are hanging around aimlessly. There's not much to do in this patch of grass apart from watch the pit smoulder gently, which a good number of scrunts were still doing. Consequently, there was a big crowd watching when Gumbo's limo showed up with SLAM SECTOR daubed on the sides and a pretty awesome drawing of a skull on the roof. They all got a little... excited. The trace elements of frenzon still present in the humans made then a bit more... active. There'll be new litters of scruntlets in a month or so, judging by current goings-on. Thankfully, once the party quiets down after an hour or so, it only takes a modicum of shouting to get everyone to listen up. The scrunts are bored shitless - they're more than happy to head to the farm, once they put the limousine back on its wheels and Pirk is released. The scrunts hitch the makeshift forge to the back of the limo, and then busy themselves with the aimless shouting, fighting and looting that characterises any scrunty endeavour. It seems Gumbo will have to drive himself. Infighting, The Farm Day Two The legs! The legs! Kreb scrabbles like a wildcat but he's not in possession of all his limbs, and he's distracted by his urge to gobble brains. Murdelia has no such handicaps, and is also distressingly brawny for her size. With practised ease she gets the gunscrunt in a hammerlock, while her comrade deactivates his thrashing leg-servos and rescues the precious, precious brains. Huh, this one's wounded. No wonder he's so ornery. The medic applies scrunt anaesthesia to Kreb, via the simple expedient of choking him into unconsciousness. Murdelia reaches for her medical tools... No User Serviceable Parts Included The Farm Day Two Groin puts more effort into avoiding work than most scrunts exercise in actually doing it. The scrunts under his direction scurry around like particularly messed-up ants, swarming the limos and overclocking their tortured engines to within an inch of their lives. The roaring retro-rocket forge takes up residence next to the workshop, and the mechaniscrunts busy themselves in turning scrap metal into slightly flatter scrap metal. Under his supervision they've already righted the gates and overclocked the limos, and he's now gathered the most talented of their number around himself, to explain his plan for the grappling hook. "So ya don't have to bovver walkin', you can just point?" They seem to understand, but warn Groin that they might need to disconnect his arm under carefully controlled conditions in order to tinker with it. He nods. The mechaniscrunts descend, yanking and tugging at his bionics. Groin has no sooner mouthed the word "Feck" than a wrench crashes down on his head and his vision dims - the surprise he feels at this is nothing compared to the surprise he'll feel when he wakes up. Fifth Column Just Prior To Departure The Farm Barry tears around the place in a panic for most of the morning looking for his human counterpart, quizzing scrunts and peering through windows. He looks everywhere - in barrels, under cars, on top of roofs. Eventually he starts looking in places where a person might actually conceivably be, and finds Barrius morosely chewing on some iron rations outside one of the sheds under the watchful eyes of some of the more important scrunts. The scruntlet breathes a sigh of relief as he joins Grimply, Scurrilous, Groin, and Gumbo at their smoke-and-grog break. The Chimera is being fuelled and prepped for the raid on the fuel convoy. The scrunts seem quite cheerful at the possibility of getting more stuff to burn. One of the technoscrunts wanders by, carrying a heap of oily rags. He cheerfuly pipes up. "'lo Barry! Oi see ya found the humee that was talkin' ta Flet bout loosin' them other humies then?" Barrius starts, violently. -------- scrrunnnnnnt Gumbo completely hosed up a Command test by about four degrees of failure, but succeeded in his second test to bring everyone back under control. All scrunt subtypes like you a bit more, both for the entertaining diversion, and the new home. Kreb lost his opposed strength test against Murdelia and is at her mercy. His legs have been deactivated and he cannot eat the brains. Kreb hasn't been doctored yet to the best of my knowledge, so he's getting doctored now; he heals all his damage. He is also, medically, at Murdelia's mercy and she can do various unnecessary medical things to him if both players agree. Groin has his grappling hook successfully mounted in his leg. Unfortunately his leg is now mounted on his shoulder, and his arm is now mounted on his hip. There are no mechanical penalties for this. Barrius might be in hot water!! Scruntinise him! We're finishing up here, and are ready to start raidin' for fuel once you guys are all done here. Hopefully everyone's sorted loot and experience, huh? I might check that at some point if I get a chance. Again, good scrunting, all. Been great fun to watch this spiral wildly out of expected parameters.
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Feb 4, 2015 21:54
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Departures The Farm Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQqTunkvPb0 90's racing scrunts Through force of sheer indignity, Barrius bats the knife away and grabs Grimply by the collar of his new synskin outfit, yelling hoarsely into the scrunty scout's face and momentarily forgetting his status as a captive of a gaggle of heavily-armed and lightly-brained abhumans. Several days worth of tension and low-grade terror starts bubbling out. "If'n ya thought them farmers run out because of me, why the feck am I still here? Ya think I'd still be here with you stinking, hosed-up midgets if I 'ad a decent chance of getting out of here alive?" Realising his situation, Barrius then gently lowers the sniper to the ground and clears his throat. He still glowers, sullenly, but now speaks with an air of protest, not anger. "Ah wuz checking in on them because yeh'd kept them manacled to benches for two days and offered to feed them their mates." He shakes his head. "They probably ran because you scared them shitless. Not like it matters now that you've killed them all." he adds, accusingly. He wipes his hands on his tattered uniform repeatedly. -------- Preparations The Farm Malbrathia-3 Scrunts busy themselves loading up the Chimera ready for the long drive to the ambush site. Gumbo and Yurik anxiously watch the skies, judging their timeframe by the movement of the sun. Dozens of small irritating niggling issues need sorting, as necessary scrunts need to be rounded up or rescued from small holes in which they had wedged themselves or woken up or rescued from the triage wards. The majority of other civilian scrunts are left in place with a general wave of the hand and a yell of "sort this place out!" as the APC is fuelled and loaded. Eventually, only a few minor irks remain.
Shouting ensues. -------- Ambush The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEQtPv9NbXA Soft rains patter down through the bosky forest. Presently, the banging and rumbling of an abused engine can be heard, along with a dim muffled yelling, as an armored personnel carrier slides sideways down a slope, scything away a season's new growth. Several fanged creatures scamper out of its path. "WENNATOLYEREITWOZRIGHTATFAKKINJUNCTIONITWOZYOUROTHERRIGHT" The Chimera slides onwards, teetering wildly on its track for a moment, before a lucky boulder clips its track, spinning the vehicle and causing its bulldozer blade to clip a tree. It rights itself, sliding backwards, and eventually comes to rest at the bottom of an otherwise quite pleasant gully. The rendezvous point for this convoy is quite nearby. The scrunts have the dim foreboding that this is their first time attacking a hard target that might conceivably be ready for an attack; more than that, the scrunts have no idea what they'll be up against. Their comrades clutch their rifles nervously, and there is less aimless yelling than usual as the ambush is set... -------------------- scrunnnnnnnt Grimply screwed up an Intimidate check; sure, it's a trained skill, but no-one else got involved to help you with it and your strength is puny, like rat. Even with a +20 circumstance bonus you got like 3DoF. Barrius has let off some steam. Most of you are severely autistic and can't read normal social cues, and have no idea whether he's telling the truth or not. The commotion has gained the attention of any scrunts who wish to be involved - Yurik and Murdelia, i.e. the two scrunts with Scrutiny, think he's telling the truth. Groin, the paranoid scrunt, thinks he's lying. Scurrilous also thinks so, although this could just be lack of sleep. Scrunts are annoying; socialise with the scrunts to assuage their fears, or just tell them to gently caress off, it's up to you. Ambush is being set; Grimply + Yurik tag-team navigated your way there in good time, and you have about half an hour to set up. You need to confirm your three beneficial terrain features before I draw the map. Maybe there's some skills you'd like to use to try and work out what might be a good setup? Do some Scholastic Lore: Tactics, and judging how well you roll, the map will be more or less beneficial to you. Or maybe you want to figure out what you might be fighting? How will the fuel be stored, are we talking a lorry full of barrels or a donkey train or what? I dunno, do your own prepwork. There's probably vehicles. Basically, we're about to have a fight. Ideally you'll grab the fuel and not blow it up, then you'll drag it back to the farm, have another fight along the way, and then get another loot/XP bomb. After that your road warrior force will be ready to go, so start thinking about what you actually want to do with it.
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Feb 9, 2015 17:39
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You're Scrunting In The Woods The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6Cyw0tonwc  click for a bit bigger if you want. scale is malleable; each square comfortably contains the chimera, let's put it that way. If a square contains foliage you can hide the tank there. An overcharged limousine rockets through the woods, hot on the trail of the Chimera. Its occupants are loving life, beaming big scrunty grins as the windscreen is eventually entirely smashed away by rogue branches and rocks thrown up by the APC in front. It plummets down the incline, trailing detritus and scrunts, spinning wildly and coming to rest on the opposite side of the road from the APC. Muffled chanting can be heard from within. Most of the civilians were content to hang around the new farm-camp-filth complex - presumably there will be hell to pay once the hole-dwellers cross paths with the hole-diggers, but the scrunts currently waiting in nervous anticipation have more pressing matters on their mind. Nothing smells quite like a nervous scrunt; elements of hot tramp mingle with an unfortunate young garlic bulb that stepped into the back of a pervert's van, and a certain battery-acid tang begins to make the eyes water even as mildew makes the nose run. This unpleasant reaction, in addition to making the scrunt deeply, deeply unappetising to most known predators, has the curious added benefit of sharpening their wits. Consequently, the Chimera has barely slid to a halt before the scrunts have remembered and identified the key reasons why they chose to make their ambush here. (Kreb has added elements of pea and bergamot, incidentally. Maybe it's that soup he consumed back on the dropship, maybe it's his altered physiology spraying out incorrect pheremones, but regardless, it's putting the other scrunts off a bit as he hunches in the back of the Chimera, gnawing on a spare humie leg from the cookpot.) The area is mostly forest, not so dense as to preclude cautious driving, not so sparse as to prevent hiding a vehicle. There are ups and downs, but it's mostly flat apart from the hill to the south-east over which the scrunts made their approach, and the rocky, sheer crags which the road neatly bisect. A geologically inclined scrunt might be surprised at the unnatural narrowness of the crags, although a narratively inclined scrunt might just write it off as a convenience. There's plenty of similar formations across Malbrathia, anyway. The rock tends to be pretty hard-weathering, but in this instance a bundle of precarious boulders near the top of the passes' north side could easily be dislodged with enough directed force. A tough-looking bunker nestles nearby. Maybe it was used as a tollbooth once, but again, these hard-weathering bunkers are dotted all over Malbrathia, and it's not all that unexpected. Hopefully nothing nasty's living inside it, because it could be pretty useful cover in a firefight, and a decent spot to ambush from. The element of surprise might be hard to come by, though, as the limo full of technoscrunts revs its engine enthusiastically and pounds on its horn. Faint plumes of smoke can be seen on the horizon. What direction? All directions. ------------ scrrunnnnnnt Traditional scrunts are happy thanks to a regular ol' fellowship test. Fearful scrunts have been made happy by a funny solution so I didn't roll. Limo scrunts are along for the ride, so are also happy, although may well gently caress your ambush up if you don't get a handle on them. You have half an hour to prep, still; you have incoming from north, south, and west. The casual eye can detect nothing from the smoke; only skills, only skills have the answer. Bunker will not, in fact, have anything horrible in it, and has 360 degree cover and vision around a more-fortified central pillbox. Like a donut with a... uh... muffin in the middle. There are trees to the east, but nothing's coming from there. Crags are climbable with moderate ease; climbing gear will help. Regular ol' +20 Tech Use to rig a remote/time fuse; you probably don't want to use proximity up there. Failure just means you waste time; ten minutes to climb, five minutes a pop (inclusive of finding the right bomb spots). Failure by 4DoF means detonation. Forest gives cover, you can hide a tank in it at the fringes. Limo needs deeper cover. This is an overview map; combat will get you a more detailed map, although we're dealing with bigger ranges this time. Don't worry if you're primarily melee; there will be stuff for you to do. Oh yes.
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Feb 17, 2015 22:05
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Start Your Engines The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMX0jndU6cg In preparation for the ambush, some scrunts seek advantageous positions, but most of them just hang around the Chimera, clutching at their weapons and themselves. The new camo-netting remains stowed, as the APC lurks conspicuously by the treeline. It would be the work of a moment to reverse the tank a few metres and stretch the netting over the vehicle, but, perhaps out of some primitive superstition, or an inherent fear of nets, none of the scrunts appear willing to take this step. Their comrades continue to mutter to themselves, and exchange worried glances. The mechanical scrunts in the limo joyfully rev their engine, ready to drive into things again. A couple of the more enterprising warrior scrunts set their sights on higher ground, demonstrating some faint curiosity as to what's coming their way. The other scrunts hiss suspiciously at them as they climb. Grumb fumbles his first ascent, crashing a few metres back to earth with no real ill effects - the crags are comprised of mercilessly hard and jagged rock, granted, but they rise from soft turf like a razorblade in an apple, and the gunner simply bounced. Cursing Groin for getting the second grappling hook implanted into his body, the heavy gunner hauls himself up the cliff face on the second attempt and flops onto a convenient ledge near the summit. Grimply, on the other hand, climbs like a monkey, barely pausing for breath as he scrunts up the side of the crag. There's a brief hairy moment when he accidentally knocks his magboots together and finds them inexplicably attracted to the rockface, but that's easily solved by switching them off again. Between them, the two specialist scrunts try to make out what's coming their way, over the horizon. Grimply starts off the surveillance with a look to the south, where a trio of four-wheeled vehicles can be seen racing down the highway, smoke belching from twin exhaust pipes. They look like modified Tauros cars; extremely lightly armoured skirmishing vehicles, afforded an irritating degree of flexibility by their high-velocity, long-range grenade launchers. To the north, Grumb espies a trio of Sentinels gingerly mincing down the road at high speed, bodies waggling fowards and back as the operators push their machines to the limit. At this distance it's hard to tell, but they look to have the telltale flamer fueltanks of an anti-infantry unit; looks like they've got melee chainblade attachments, too. Flamethrowers, buzzsaws... if he didn't know better, the gunner would assume these Sentinels were specced to fight trees. The fact that the Sentinels aren't toting their usual multilasers or autocannons will probably be cold comfort if they get into close combat range. Finally, Grumb spots the fuel tanker and its escort coming in from a byroad to the west - it's a great six-wheeled beast of a thing, gleaming in the morning sun. Smaller shapes ride alongside it, occasionally lunging forward and falling back, or popping a wheelie. It looks like a full squad of motorcycle-borne Rough Riders - neither of the scrunts have heard of PDF regiments using these outside of the most heavily industrialised worlds, so this might be an actual military unit. Grimply, in particular, doesn't like the look of those lances very much - he assumes they're krak-tipped, but at this distance they're hard to make out. The lead rider's weapon might well have the characteristic bulge of a melta charge. This could be messy, thinks the sniper, but things get a lot messier in a hurry once he realises that trailing behind them, winding their way down a mountain road, are a pair of Leman Russ battletanks. Grimply starts breathing again a few seconds later once he sees how fast the tanks are moving. They're probably another half an hour behind the fuel tanker and escort - despite the relatively short distance, they've got a lot of descent to cover, and while a Tauros might be able to whip through those mountain roads and barely touch the brake, a main battletank cannot take it so easy. It just means this might be a smash-and-grab assault, rather than a straight-out slogging match. It looks like the tanker's going to show up first, followed by the Tauroses, and finally the Sentinels. If the fight's still going on after half an hour there may be issues, as the Leman Russes should become part of the picture at that point, but honestly if this turns into a slogging match, tanks will be the least of the scrunt's worries. The sniper ponders this, while Grumb ponders boulders. The rocks are indeed kind of unstable near his peak; the problem won't be that of applying enough force to dislodge them, but rather of not plummeting to the ground alongside them. If he could attach himself to the crag somehow, he could probably simply kick at the boulders until a rockslide is triggered, but if he does that before the fuel tanker shows up then it'll be stranded on the western side of the pass, inaccessible to casual scrunting. Otherwise, concerted gunfire would certainly start off a collapse, if he doesn't mind being extremely conspicuous and exposed on his ledge. Rigging a timed booby trap would be a challenge to the scrunt, but probably not an insurmountable one. Grimply relates his findings to the world at large by yelling at the top of his voice. Thankfully, the oncoming troops can't hear him over the roar of their engines, and if they did, they probably wouldn't understand him. ------ scrunt Ignite Memories, Foresight is only usable against Intelligence skill tests and takes ten minutes in any case; had you actually used it you'd be stranded on top of the crag when the enemy rocked up. You had enough successes without it, though. You also don't use Awareness for deliberately looking out for things in this context; it is specifically for passive detection of anything hidden or off, rather than actively standing there with binoculars. You can spend that XP on something else if you want. Both spyscrunts passed Perception tests with suitable degrees of success. Now you know what's coming, woo. Get in and out before the tanks show up, eh. Even your unmanned multilaser won't do much against the frontal armour of a Leman Russ. ROCKS FALL EVERYBODY DIES can be triggered with a) booting the poo poo out of them and passing a +20 Strength check to not go tumbling after them (2m fall per DoF, then you're clinging to the rockface); b) shooting the poo poo out of them (BS test at point blank with full aim, so +40); c) bombing the poo poo out of them with e.g. a frag grenade; +20 Tech Use test, which works out as a +0 Intelligence test for you. Five minutes a pop, failure means wasted time, 4DoF or more means it detonates in your hand. Tanker and bikers from the west first, Tauroses from the south second, Sentinels from the north third. Leman Russes come to TPK you if you're still about after half an hour. The sentinels have in fact been reassigned from the Steel Forest, whoever suggested that as a worldbuilding idea. Everything you're facing to begin with is either a dude on a bike, or an open-topped vehicle. Dudes on bikes go down like dudes not on bikes, but we're not using Formation rules for the Rough Riders, just regular mook rules. They have wounds, but critical damage or Righteous Fury kills them. Open-topped vehicles will take limited damage from regular ol' small arms fire, but you can target the crew using Called Shots, or by hitting them with a Spray or Blast weapon (e.g. flamers and grenades); again, mook rules apply. You set the driver of a sentinel on fire, he's unlikely to be much of a threat. Or, if your gun is big enough, simply shoot the cybervehicles until they die. Scrunts on crags can either stay there, or go elsewhere. Up to you. scrunt
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Feb 22, 2015 23:43
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Rope for arsing around is fine (enough rope for climbing is not free, incidentally) but even a scrunt who has failed tactics rolls so comprehensively knows that a bunch of dudes on motorcycles weigh a lot more than a couple of scrunts. You'll need to tie one end to a convenient tree and then it'll be a case of either hoping for assistance, passing some hefty strength checks that get worse the more motorbikes plow into it, or maybe attaching the rope to something else movable and heavy. Otherwise you'll go flying and might get dragged along the ground for a bit.
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Feb 23, 2015 20:12
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Clever Gi- uh, Bo-, uh, Thing The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rI0ODEosRs The forest has previously been home to nothing more offensive than birdsong, foliage and a faint drizzle. A small rabbit-like creature emerges from its burrow and sniffs the air, scenting for any prey. Instead, it gets a lungful of rancid exhaust and even more rancid scrunt - moments later, it is mercifully crushed by the wheels of the sullenly advancing limousine. Mechani-scrunts mutter and swear within, disappointed at being browbeaten into taking part in such a low-tech trap. Once Yurik explained their role, their enthusiasm dampened significantly. They may be faintly disillusioned with Grimply for roping them into this, but they'll do their job - the engine boggles and bips quietly as the limo idles. Once the fat scrunt holding onto the rope feels the yank, the limo will accelerate as quickly as possible - one end is tied to the chassis, the other wrapped around a convenient sturdy rocky spur on the other side of the pass. At this distance it's difficult to see whether it's Yurik or Urok who's poised to give the signal, but once they do, the taut line will hopefully clothesline any bikers off their mounts. Gumbo chews on his grenade, lost in thought. From what he can remember, in this sort of situation an escorted vehicle going through a narrow pass will probably wait until all of its escort are through before making the trip itself. That makes sense. Yeah. He also figures that if the scrunts are trying to steal a vehicle, they'd have to be close to that vehicle. Assuming the plan goes as... planned, all the bikers will be knocked off their mounts, and the truck behind them will probably slow down rather than run over its buddies. So the best place to launch an assault would be from the trees near the pass; the bunker looks very solid, and safe, but it's also well out of melee range, and he'd have a hell of a sprint ahead of him to get into the fray. Grumb perches on the crag, muttering to himself about Scruntinels and rubbing his gravchute. He considers his options for acquiring a walker - if he can somehow lure one close, he might be able to make a death-defying leap into its canopy from the top of the rocks. The autocannon has a fair amount of heft behind it, and could easily brain the pilot if he's lucky enough to connect with it. The fact that he has no idea how to pilot a Sentinel and will be untrained in its weapons makes absolutely no odds to the heavy gunner. The problem is that the sentinels are set to arrive third; if he's looking to surprise them, he'll have to sit out the fight with the Tauroses and the Rough Rider squad; they could hardly miss his autocannon's not-inconsiderable muzzle flash, and hear its report. And if the sentinels know he's there, he'll have to cause enough carnage for them to be willing to risk getting up close to him to flame him out. That might not actually be a problem at all. Groin urgently camouflages the Chimera as the scrunts take up their final positions, nervously clutching weapons before the assault, and saying prayers to whatever hosed-up tiny gods they worship; Scruntfather, Emperor, Omnissiscrunt, or whatever other members of the pantheon they think will look down on them with, if not favour, then less disgust than is the norm.  click 4 big ---------- scrunnnnnt alright, the map's to show you roughly where everyone is. this is not a combat map; squares are approx enough to fit a chimera or similar tank. it is safe to assume your scrunt has found cover. i am still not sure how we're going to manage combat maps for this; we may dispense, and simply use the strategic map, or we may have multiple tacticals based on how combat happens mechanical scrunts are a bit less happy as grimply was mean. they will accelerate when given the signal (free action to tug rope). actually timing this will be kinda difficult; +0 perception or +20 applicable-skill to get the full impact, otherwise one or two bikers may slip through. currently, urok is holding the rope. trade places as required or desired. gumbo made a tactics roll, and as a result, you are expecting bikers to all come through first, truck to come through second. you can't really block off escape routes; the terrain is too open if you disagree with scrunt placement please let me know; this is a mini-update and I will likely start combat sometime on Tuesday. to sum up: kreb - in bunker, ready for cover fire murdelia - in bunker, ready for cover fire gumbo - scrunting in woods ready to assault urok - scrunting in woods ready to assault, hand on rope yurik - scrunting by crags ready to assault grumb - on northern crag, ready to fire large cannon at things grimply - on southern crag, ready to snipe at things groin - in Chimera, presumably ready to pop a smoke grenade and ram things scurrilous - in Chimera turret
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Mar 1, 2015 16:56
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Scrunty Rider The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGkQjhgh4Qo The scrunts finish scrabbling urgently around and settle into their positions. Yurik clasps the rope, ready to give the limousine riders their signal. Most of them are focused intently on the idea of going as fast as possible as quickly as possible, but a small, querulous voice is complaining that there's all these trees in front of them and what happens when they take the handbrake off? It is swiftly hissed into silence by the other scrunts. Minutes tick by as the sound of engines gets louder, and beady eyes peer intently from the foliage. Suddenly, Gumbo clutches at himself in distress as he realises what the approaching motorbikes are doing - he hosed up, they're not all coming through first! They're forming a holding pattern around the truck, five in front and five behind - not only does it mean they won't catch all the bikers in their cunning plan, but if that rope's strong enough, then the approaching truck will probably yank the limo out of the woods like a maggot from a wound! Thinking quickly, he uses his belt buckle to glint sunlight at the limousine driver to get his attention. Squinting, the unsuspecting mechani-scrunt turns to see what's causing that flash, and sees:  Once Gumbo sees that he's caught the driver's attention, he attempts to communicate that they'd better be ready with their knives to cut the rope.  Perceiving a terrible threat, the limo scrunts wordlessly draw their knives. Perfect, Gumbo thinks. Glad we got that sorted. ------- The Convoy The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Technical Sergeant Hetzenbauer guns the engine of his combat cycle and accelerates to the front of the pack, melta lance stowed in its holder on the side of his bike. He's conflicted about his current assignment - sure, it's nice to not have to worry about the usual enemy concerns this far behind friendly lines - no artillery, no strafing runs, no foraging semi-eaten starch ration packs - but he's been told in no uncertain terms that what they're escorting cannot fall into enemy hands. Which, in his experience, usually means you will be ambushed. His squad's been issued with some reasonably heavy ordnance for what's ostensibly a light escort, but of course they can't give him enough for it to look suspicious. He'd feel a lot happier if those loving tanks could hurry the gently caress up gently caress dammit sitting ducks out here He takes a breath and calms himself. It's fine, Tertius. It's fine. The decoy convoy's way up north somewhere, under enough guard to make it look really important. This truck's got enough escort to make it a hell of a challenge for anyone who's just after fuel; no-one will have any reason to attack, and only High Command knows what's holy poo poo is that a rope- twaannnnngggggggggggg ------- The Trap The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Yurik managed to time it perfectly. With the guttural bellow of a tortured engine in far too low a gear, the limousine sprang into action, accelerating and drawing the line taut across the road. The front four bikers were catapulted from their mounts as their bikes skidded and sparked to a halt twenty or thirty metres down the road; their sergeant managed to avoid the rope. In an effort to avoid splattering its escort, the fuel truck slammed on the brakes as bikers rolled out of the way or flattened themselves against the road to avoid being squashed - its deceleration was aided when it plowed through the cable. It would have yanked the limo into its wake had the mechaniscrunts not had their blades out and ready to release the tension. The rear five bikers drew up alongside the truck, uncertain as to what was going on. Unfortunately, once the limo was released, it roared straight forward and crashed into a convenient tree with a sickening crunch. The scream of tortured metal is something the bikers immediately understand - that rope was no accident, they're under attack! All of a sudden, the sky falls. ------- The Crag The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Grumb curses and swears as he boots the living poo poo out of the potential rockslide. It's not as easy as it looks - he shifts position, as he can't quite get the purchase he needs to - there! With a rumble, the boulders begin their cascade down the sheer walls of the pass. Unfortunately, Grumb's standing on one. Both Barrys peer down from the top of the pass as they desperately watch Grumb's descent. It's almost like time has frozen - he falls so slowly, plummeting into the abyss and bellowing like a wounded ox. Eventually, scrunt Barry realises what's going on, once Grumb's life has flashed before his eyes for the third or fourth time. '"'Ey boss! Yer gravchute's turned on max!" It seems the gunner's spastic flailing has, luckily, hit the ON button. Grumb will not die today. At least, not to a fall. With frantic swimming motions he makes his way to a small ledge, hefts his autocannon, and waits for his heartrate to fall back to non-lethal levels. ------- The Business At Hand The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Brutal. Horrible. Mercifully short. All words to describe scrunts, and by extension, combat with scrunts. Initiative posted:Bikers 14 Tauroses and Sentinels will join combat in subsequent rounds; it can be assumed they heard what's going on, and also that radios exist. The bikers have already acted and are combat-ready. Four are standing; six are mounted; they are all out of the way of the truck. They will not necessarily move as a squad but will try to keep no more than a square away from a buddy. Truck is currently stationary.  we ain't doing tactical maps yet unless you need them. Assume you have cover; each square is approx eight square metres. Everyone is much larger than they should be so you can see what's going on. ------- scrunnnnnnnt Gumbo got a 1 on his Fellowship test to do sign language, giving the scrunt driver a hefty bonus to his intelligence roll to figure out what the gently caress is going on. The driver passed. Four bikers are de-mounted; one is quite seriously wounded. The limo's hosed and needs repairs. Grumb failed his +20 Strength check to stay on the rockface; this would ordinarily be a fall of four metres, but he managed to flail around and turn the gravchute on, so no fall damage. He's on a convenient ledge with a couple boulders for cover, but not as much cover as there was at the peak. It's also definitely within sentinel heavy flamer range; this might make them more willing to approach him, but it also means he's within heavy flamer range. We will try combat without proper grid maps. Be descriptive. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 19:03 on Mar 3, 2015 |
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Mar 3, 2015 19:00
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Suppressing Fire is a full action, although given that a half-move would pretty much just move you out of cover and keep you in the same square this may not be a bad thing. You can get four bikers plus the sarge in your suppressing fire; two mounted, two unmounted. If you pin them they'll make for cover as quickly as possible
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Mar 5, 2015 08:44
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Stop Me And Buy One The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wy9r2qeouiQ it's them again!! Technical Sargeant Hetzenbauer reels from the thunderous rockslide some metres behind him. He keeps enough of his wits about him to not turn and look; he's spent enough time on mining detail to know that even through his goggles there's always the chance of a particularly vigorous shard of rock taking an eye. This knowledge probably saves his life - he's facing in the right direction to see Grimply's red dot flickering over his bike's armoured windshield and up towards him! With a surge of the accelerator he pushes his motorbike from a standing start into a monstrous wheelie just as the scrunt pulls the trigger; a patch of tarmac flashes into vapor, but the sergeant remains unharmed as he attempts to make his scream of "SNIPER!" heard over the microbead. His men don't hear in time. Jagged fire rips from the bunker as Murdelia opens up with her repurposed surgical laser. The front trooper's bike bears the brunt of the fire, as the first blast wrecks the radiator and the second ignites the fuel tank. The pointman's too far away from the truck or any of his squad to cause them any damage other than psychological; his screams are tortured as he burns alive in a flash of hot promethium. By contrast, Yurik cowers behind a rock, pokes his rifle over the top, and holds down the trigger, both hands clapped firmly over his ears. Wait, what? Bullets spackle and spang off the side of the fuel truck, but are too low calibre to penetrate its armoured side. They're more than enough to worry the bikers, though, and the remaining three troopers on Yurik's side of the truck press themselves as close to the ground as possible to escape the withering hail of fire. Gumbo winds up carefully, and hurls a frag grenade into the midst of the bikes. Unfortunately his tiny, beady eyes still have some confusion between small and far away; under the mistaken impression that the bikes are towering 10ft monstrosities, he overshoots fantastically. The grenade completely misses the cluster of three bikers that Gumbo was aiming at, bonks off the side of the truck, and plops straight into the lap of the wounded trooper who'd pulled himself behind his fallen bike to regroup. A short shower of meat ensues; the scrunt manages to successfully pass this off as intentional, and a ragged cheer bursts forth from nearby comrades. Scurrilous mutters to himself urgently as he "communes" with the APC's machine spirit. It's actually a drat sight harder than it looks; the scrunt's vision strobes in and out of lurid imagery of circuitry and electricity as he sweeps the tank's multilaser back and forth like an avenging angel. Bikes wither and die under his- oh, gently caress, he's not turned the drat thing on. The scrunt collects himself, and hopes that no-one noticed. A fraction of a second later, Groin roars the Chimera to life by punching the gas. This is not a colourful descriptive phrase - he has his leg-arm hooked round the steering wheel and his arm-leg pounding mercilessly on the gas pedal in some misguided attempt at coaxing more speed out of the APC. His intention is to ram, but there's only so much ground he can cover in six seconds. He continues to make for the fuel truck and surrounding bikers at full speed. Urok follows the example of Gumbo in hoiking a grenade as hard as he can. Unlike Gumbo, he managed to land his bomb slap in the middle of a cluster of bikers. Unlike Gumbo, he has the satisfaction of seeing all three of them caught in the blast. Also unlike Gumbo, he was not paying close attention to what he threw; a faint twinge of horror fills the scrunt, and all nearby scrunts, as he watches a coruscating bloom of fire envelop the bikers, a matter of feet away from a tanker carrying what is presumably highly flammable fuel. Two of the bikers manage to wheel the body of their bikes between them and the blast; the third is not so lucky, and he screams in panic as his armour catches light. All three bikes are a write-off; rubber drips and pools as flames lick their chassis. The truck driver reacts as expected, given the sheer mayhem that has erupted in the past few seconds. He slams on the gas and yanks the steering wheel all the way to the right, while yelling incoherently. The mechaniscrunts look on approvingly as the big-rig momentarily skitters along on one set of wheels, before crashing back to earth with a bone-shuddering jolt. The truck careens off towards the south, out of control! Kreb hisses absently as he watches the large vehicle trundle off away from him. Then he hisses violently as he remembers it's full of lovely chemicals and it's getting away! Panicking, he reacts in his normal manner and fires wildly from the place he's holed up in. Shot after shot flicker towards the bikers; one crumples to the ground with a steaming hole through his sternum, while another takes a nasty burn to the thigh. He grits his teeth; that's his brakin' leg. The Tauroses and Sentinels quicken their advance; neither are in range to realistically contribute to combat at this point, but the Tauroses are moments away and the Sentinels not far behind. Grumb observes the sergeant popping a sweet wheelie with a jaundiced eye. In the past half-hour he's scaled a mountain, fallen off it, accidentally saved his own live through the application of technology he does not understand, and caused a rockslide with nothing more than his own brute strength and boots. He punctuates his disdain by carefully pumping a barrage of shells into the sarge's bike, which explodes, satisfyingly. The charred stump of the sarge's lance clatters to earth. The bikers are in a sorry state; only two of them have bikes any more, and they're pinned down by aimless fire from Yurik along with another bikeless one. The other three don't have bikes either. What they do have, however, is radios. And grenades. The leftmost active biker pops a smoke grenade in the middle of the road, as the other two hurl frags north and south. Thick, red, choking smoke obscures their position as the bikers hurl themselves prone and as the frags whistle towards the scrunts; the one aimed at Yurik detonates harmlessly some metres from his position, but the one aimed at Urok and Gumbo is murderously accurate. Thankfully the scrunts are still in cover and haven't begun their charge, otherwise it might have actually done some damage. Still, the bikers appear to have regrouped from the initial assault, and under cover of the smoke manage to pull themselves together again. Scrunts near the smoke cloud, and scrunts near radios set to Severan frequencies, can hear panicked yelling. It sounds like "PACKAGE COMPROMISED! SATURATION PATTERN!""  rough indication of goings-on. Bikers are now confined to a single square - -30 to hit them at range, -10 in melee ---- scrunnnnt Grimply's sarge dodged the shot! Murdelia shot a dude twice in the motorcycle and got a righteous fury (10, 9 on damage dice)! Even though the lasgun's got -2 to damage outside of short range, events still got out of hand and the bike exploded! Not, like, "exploded enough to wound anyone"; it's just the usual "righteous fury kills mooks" rule. One dead Yurik suppresses the three bikers on his side. They are suppressed. Suppression has occurred. Gumbo rolled an 87 for his grenade, hell yeah. He missed but only scattered like a metre. The wounded trooper is comprehensively dead; bike tarnished but mostly functional. Get Them! sweeping order is in effect; +4 damage to all scrunts using Comrade assist orders in melee/ranged combat, until Phoon's next turn. Oh, and two dead. Scurrilous rolled a 95 for his multilaser attack!! That's one point off a jam!! I considered using a fate point on it but then rolled a 97 so I didn't!!! He just misses. Groin tried to ram but fell short by like twenty metres. Each square is 8m, remember; Chimera goes four squares on a full move. Urok neglected to state which grenade he wanted to throw, so I chose randomly. 1 = smoke, 2 = frag, 3 = fire. . However, he hit on his BS test, so he didn't catch the truck with it.All three of his targets are dismounted; one is on fire, next to a truck full of promethium, and will move randomly. The truck managed to gently caress up its Floor It! test by an unprecedented six degrees of success; it will move semi-randomly down the road. Because it's out of control, it's really slow. You could probably sprint after it if you don't mind the chance of being run over. Kreb didn't say how he's attacking so I assumed it was aim-full-auto. Scored 2 DoS for two hits (including Lasgun Barrage + scope); managed to hit two bikers, wounding one and killing the other! Three dead! Tauroses will be here in two rounds, attacking in three. Sentinels in three, attacking in four. Grumb did shitloads of damage to a guy who's already dodged once this round. Boom! Four dead! Bikers popped blind-smoke, missed Yurik, and connected with Urok and Gumbo. Eleven damage, all soaked by cover and armour. I was kinda hoping to throw that smoke grenade at scrunts and then have them lance you, but whatever. They ain't pinned anymore. scrrunnnnttt
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Mar 10, 2015 00:28
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Stop Me And Buy One - Addendum The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Suddenly, one of the bikers remembers that he's on fire. He doesn't move anywhere this round, but instead you can see him sinking to the ground and thrashing about as the smoke descends. He's not out of the fight yet, but he's not dampened his flames down, either. ---------- Also, Tauroses are now in Normal range for the autocannon (barely), so that's one DoS with +4 Damage from Phoon's order
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Mar 10, 2015 18:57
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There Will Come Soft Rains The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqBX30Ona5I Grimply fires at the first indistinct figure that he can make out. Thing is, the reason he can make it out is because it's billowing smoke and flames - he draws a bead on the flaming PDF biker. Grimply has heard vague murmurings about firefighters creating firebreaks, and taking this advice to heart in his own way, casually blows the trooper's leg off. It is uncertain how helpful this is, but at least the screaming's stopped. Murdelia follows suit, blazing away into the smoke - at this range the crackling energy from her laser hits home with full force. It's hard to tell, but judging from the way that arm is hanging, she thinks she's winged someone. Yurik displays un-scruntlike restraint by aiming all turn; other scrunts are setting people on fire, and it's a rare individual who could resist the temptation to join in. He thinks to himself about the sheer perversion of these Severans, apparently under the impression "Saturation Pattern" is something to do with watersports. Scurrilous is one such individual - he moans faintly in frustration as he realises he hasn't a hope in hell of connecting with the turret gun, and instead swivels the multilaser to cover the section of road the Tauroses are set to emerge from. Meanwhile, Groin swivels the Chimera in an attempt to side-slam the truck. It just goes to show that under the feculence and general mental issues of the scrunt, there ticks a fine tactical mind. Had he slammed front-first into the truck, the APC's reinforced armour and dozer blade likely would have done enough damage to cripple it. A side-slam has significantly less force behind it, just enough to get the truck to stop. Tires screech and clutches shudder, but Groin expertly legs the steering at just the right moment, and the tank slams round into the side of the truck's cab, forcing it bumper-first into a tree. The driver's face slams into the steering wheel, but he's still kicking - he groggily wrenches the wheel in his attempts to manoeuvre the truck out of the narrow furrow it has plowed, and feverishly yanks at the gearstick. Somehow the wheels hit the dirt in just the right way, and the truck frees itself from its mire! It roars off into reverse, and then lunges forward again, scraping past the Chimera. Urok pounds into the haze and lashes a savage strike at a prone biker's kneecap - he happens to be closest to one who's drawn a curved sabre, rather than one who earlier hurled a grenade. His shock glove connects soundly, as he bats away the trooper's futile attempt to parry - the leg crunches under the assault, but is still functional. The capacitors don't seem to pack quite the charge they should do, and the biker isn't stunned. Gumbo plods after him, chainsword raised. His mind is revving with excitement, and he knows for a fact that "saturation pattern" means "imminent retreat" in Severan books. It comes from the type of pillow they're requesting from HQ, to cry into and also to bite. Following Urok's lead, he also goes for the legs, to stop his targets from getting up again. His new chainsword whistles through the air; he's still not used to the balance, and it's a savage, clumsy swing that would easily have been parried had the trooper been standing, and had he not been shot by an agonising re-purposed surgical laser seconds beforehand. Unfortunately for the biker, the sword leaps like a salmon past his defences and effortlessly removes his left leg. The scrunts continue to be impressed by his actions, and another ragged cheer erupts. Kreb hisses and yees futilely as he blasts into the smoke. Unfortunately, nothing connects. The Tauroses roar round a forest corner, only to be met by a long-range fusillade from Scurrilous, who crotchthrusts again and again in time with the multilaser's cooling cycle. The scrunt's aim is thrown off by Groin's ram, though, and, coupled with the long range, means that none of his shots connect. With a remarkable show of discipline, none of the Tauros drivers so much as flinch, such is their trust in range and speed. The Sentinels mince ever-closer, as well. Soon they'll be in range of the big guns, and might in turn need to trust to cover. The bikers spring to their feet in a heartbeat now that the scrunts are upon them. They seem resolved to sell their lives dearly; from what can be seen through the thick smoke, two draw longarms of some sort, while the other two brandish sabres. They adopt defensive postures, and guardedly approach the scrunts. The gunners are yelling into their radiobeads, still. "SOFT CONTACT SOFT CONTACT INFERNUS INFERNUS NOW NOW NOW" Grumb yawns, and disgorges another volley of high-calibre shells at the approaching Tauroses. Unfortunately for the gunner, they heard his previous assault on the biker sergeant; the weird electrical engines of the Tauros are pretty noisy, but you can certainly hear the crack over them. And see the flash. Autocannon rounds stitch towards the vehicles, mulching the rockcrete and throwing up splinters, but the lead one jinks aside at the last second, and his comrades follow suit. The cars surge onwards, undeterred.  ------- lol none of you know if artillery's coming or not grimply kills flaming biker Murdelia shoots a biker in the arm for 13 damage; some of this is soaked, but the guy's now Crippled and can't do more than a half-action a turn until healed, unless he wants 2 wounds. Yurik "aims" (idk what that means), and Scurrilous goes into overwatch. Top speed overwatch. Groin sideslams the truck! No damage to the chimera, as that's how it works for some reason. Truck is stopped and has a tree dead-ahead, so it can't just accelerate out, it needs to reverse and then go forward again. Driver tests against stunning, but got a 7 so ain't stunned. Then he got a 2 on his Floor It! test. Sorry guys, he's better off than he was before the ram. Urok still hasn't said what he's actually attacking with, nor has he updated his loving character sheet with weapon stats. For about the third time, shock glove chain attachments give +1 Dam, +1 Pen, Tearing. So he's attacking with a single punch from base shock glove stats until that's fixed! He lamps a biker for 12 damage pre-soak, and doesn't stun. Gumbo, uh, got a 96 on his Tactics test. Welp. He kills Murdelia's biker, though. Get Them order is still in effect; +4 Damage if your comrade uses Ranged Volley or Close Order Kreb hasn't posted so defaults to aim-full auto. Which he misses at. Tauroses get closer; Scurrilous opens up and would have probably totalled one had the ram not occured. None of the tauroses are pinned. One round until contact; two rounds till they start killing you. Sentinels mince closer. Also one round until contact; three rounds until they start killing you. I changed it up a bit. They're really short ranged, so it makes no sense for them to suddenly spring upon you. You can start killing them earlier. Grumb fires. He gets a hit, but the Tauros gets a jink with a roll of 4. Bikers Leap Up or stand up as appropriate; two shotgunners aren't in melee (Stand/Ready), two swordsmen are in melee with you but haven't attacked (Leap Up free action/Guarded Action/Half Move). the scrunting will continue until morale improves. gosh what could infernus mean. hope you like the enemy getting the sorts of rolls you normally do!! e: also please stop hitting legs? Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:57 on Mar 17, 2015 |
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Mar 17, 2015 21:53
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Common Lore: War is not appropriate, Common Lore: Imperial Guard might be with a -10 penalty, so you've just scraped by. Three hits is correct. Tauroses jink one hit per DoS on their test, but only against one attack action per round (per Tauros), so let's hope someone who's not using puny small arms also fires at them before it's your turn! You need to actually specifically say you're using the Comrade action rather than just assuming it's happening, so please do that in subsequent rounds e.g. "half action aim/semi-auto burst, Barry is using Ranged Volley"
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Mar 19, 2015 21:44
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Tauroses are going flat out, which is another -20, and they're Enormous not Massive (+20 rather than +30). This is a thing that your character would be aware of ("it's hard to hit things that are going fast") so I will allow you to do-over if you want. If you are struggling with figuring out appropriate actions, then bear in mind your goal here is not necessarily to scour all life from the face of this section of forest.
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Mar 23, 2015 00:21
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Fear And Loathing The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 Time slows for an instant as Groin jams the syringe of EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG into his eye and depresses the plunger. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sflTSR6kPjg  holy  scruntfather The scrunts start loving up almost immediately, as is their way. Grimply starts things off with a bang, by overloading his rifle to such an extent that the magazine explodes when he pulls the trigger. Hell yeah! It doesn't do the scrunt any harm, but it fouls the internal mechanism of the gun to such a degree that he'll have to clear it out before slamming home a fresh fuel cell. Perhaps a solid projectile weapon would be less prone to malfunction? Murdelia joyfully sprays a barrage of laser shots that have little chance of hitting, and would do nothing to vehicle armour even if they did connect. Careful aim at drivers and gunners is still possible even at such absurd range, but the scrunt wants nothing to do with this. Yurik manages to do nothing except balefully stare at the bikers, hoping for a clear shot. He doesn't get one, and wastes the benefits of his aim! What a fuckup! Gumbo has no time for this "loving up" malarkey, and menaces the nearest biker. The trooper falls for the scrunt's feint and attempts to parry too early. He pays for his mistake by taking a nasty gash to his sword-arm, laying the limb open to the bone. It's not fatal, but it's close; the trooper grimaces and adjusts his grip, clutching his other hand to his wound. The continued success of the sergeant appears to cheer the scrunts; they can barely see what's going on through the smoke but the battle roars of FECKIN and SCRUNT seem to indicate that things are going well. Scurrilous is still recovering from being bounced around inside the turret from Groin's ram attempt, and woozily attempts to bring the weapon on target. Arcs of glistering laser sheen off into the sky as he struggles to get himself "interfaced" with the multilaser once more. Another scrunty fuckup. Speaking of scrunty fuckups, Groin vibrates as the bizarre serum inside the vial goes to work on him. Where the hell did this stuff come from? What is it? What the hell is it doing!? The scrunt's pupil dilates almost immediately to the size of a dinner plate and he is sucked up into the neon sky by a thunderous whirlwind as ancient deities stamp and roar defiance at- get a grip, Groin, get a- The scrunt's tortured mind splits in two, and something ancient, murderous and alien takes control. As the syringe topples end over end slowly, so slowly towards the floor of the APC, he/they finds a strange joy in snatching it, dropping it, snatching it, dropping it, whipping it with deadly precision through the viewslit of the Chimera. Things are moving at a leisurely crawl, but Groin finds their reflexes are just as sharp as ever. With a snarl and a grin, tempered faintly by the realisation that only one of the limbs doing so actually has fingers, they seize the wheel and prepare to ram the truck off the road. Urok bellows and leaps at his assailant, but in the haze he can barely make out who he should be swinging at. The biker doesn't even need to parry as the scrunt violently strikes air, raving and slavering. The Truck driver valiantly attempts to break free, but Groin's alien mindset and terrifyingly altered abilities make it a literal impossibility. Within seconds the driver has been outwitted, outmatched, and outdriven; he slams once more into a tree with just as much alaracity as if it had been deliberate, with the Chimera wedged in just such a way as to make it impossible for the truck to escape without Groin's say-so. The battered driver gibbers faintly. Kreb contents himself with hunkering down in the bunker, hissing faintly, listening to voices in the void. Not really very useful, to be honest. The Tauroses and Sentinels whip ever closer; the Tauroses are now close enough to engage! Grumb seems to take personal offence to the presence of the cars, and guides a barrage of high-velocity shells directly into the engine of the lead Tauros, consuming it in an enormous coruscating fireball as its fuel cells go critical! The other two vehicles skid wildly through the explosion, but remain on course. The fireball jogs Grumb's memory - isn't an "Infernus" just a bigger version of that? Why're the PDF guys calling for a big firebal-ohhhh In the confusion of the smoky melee, one of the shotgun-toting Bikers sights carefully and unloads a precision burst at the battling scrunts. With two targets in such close proximity he is able to divide his fire equally, and skillfully avoids shooting his comrades. The fusillade hits home with devastating force, staggering the two melee scrunts momentarily. The second shotgunner sights equally carefully, before unloading his weapon directly into the chest of his comrade. The unfortunate biker absorbs most of the force on his armour but significant damage is still done. His assailant blinks, fuzzily. The falchioneers hack gamely away at the scrunts, but make little headway, what with the shot whistling around their ears and the various other distracting factors. Gumbo catches his attacker's weapon on his chainsword, but is unable to mount a successful counter, settling for a brief headbutt to the gut before breaking away.  scrunnnnnnt ----- lol @ events Grimply jams his rifle, losing the mag and needing to clear the jam and reload before he can use it again. No reason why your comrade can't do this. Murdelia misses Yurik spends a round woolgathering Gumbo successfully feints, slashes the poo poo out of his biker. He's nearly dead. Get Them! order is successful again, giving +4 damage to people whose comrades use Close Order or Ranged Volley Urok does aim-attack and misses with a roll of 85 and 65. Gosh if only there was a comrade to give Double Team bonuses. Scurrilous misses. Groin sucks down EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG!!! It's time to roll randomly! ok so it's got three immediate effects, and this syringe is DARK ELDAR FOCUSED. Firstly, next round and maybe longer, Groin gets up to four half-actions instead of two. Common sense with this please - you haven't given the drug to the chimera so you can't do four move actions. Secondly, until this wears off Groin gets Unnatural Agility (4). I don't think you appreciate quite how fast this makes him. Thirdly, Groin cannot understand anyone except Dark Eldar until this wears off. Truck is pinned. Kreb takes cover. I will be nice and say you didn't actually run anywhere, so you can still aim and fire next round if you want, no movement to get back to your firing position. Tauroses are on-map and will soon start to violently assault you! Remember, -20 for full speed, +20 for size; depending on actions, that -20 might go. Sentinels are nearly on-map! Grumb actually gets a better roll than expected because the Tauroses are now that much closer. So he fucks one up comprehensively. Two Tauroses left. Grumb has figured out that Infernus is a protocol used for firestorm bombardments Bikers get a little wild. The first one gets four hits due to Scatter and Semi-Auto, two of which are righteous fury. Except he doesn't righteous fury, due to being a mook. Fourteen wounds each to Gumbo's leg and Urok's arm, which you will reduce by toughness and armour. The second one nearly kills his buddy, by shooting him, with a gun. The falchioneers fail to do anything useful. Truck is immobile and cannot move until the Chimera does. Go get it, filth. Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 22:38 on Mar 24, 2015 |
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Mar 24, 2015 22:32
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it's too late for regrets (no i kinda assumed. groin goes first in any case so it is fair to say you won't be firing wildly at him as he streaks across the road on his arm-leg)
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Mar 30, 2015 21:55
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Naked Scruntch The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 The scrunts all seem to remember their mysterious syringes at once. A good number of them decide to inject the very instant they see Groin dash at a ungodly speeds straight towards the oncoming enemy vehicles. Maybe there's some sort of undiscovered gestalt conciousness behind all this - if so, it is in extremely poor taste. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtHXDOT_k14 Perhaps a little of this psychic abuse does leak Grimply's way, as he inexplicably begins seeing visions. The visions seem to have the end result of him slamming a huge HI-VAP round straight through the engine block of the right-most Tauros, though, so it can't be all bad. The vehicle is suddenly running on two cylinders instead of six, and lurches horribly as the driver fights to get it back under control. Murdelia fails to connect with her weapons fire, partly because she's struggling with the range, and partly because as soon as Arnika jabs the syringe into her neck, she immediately bursts into coruscating flames. The scrunt's comrade backs away, horrified at what she's done, but Murdelia doesn't really seem to mind. The flames are very real, but neither scrunt nor equipment is actually affected in any negative way. A terrible roaring fills the medic's mind, and her last coherent scrunty thought is that she's reminded of the last time she ate fermented rat. In other words, something's brewing, and it's going to be messy. Yurik glowers uselessly for a while. There is a brief moment of discontinuity, and everyone within sight of the scrunt feels a faint gnawing at their mind as they forget details of the memory of their first kiss. In most cases, that's probably for the best. Gumbo gets in on the druggist action. Again he successfully confuses his opponent with a rousing battlecry, although the biker is admittedly more concerned with keeping their arm from falling off than focusing on the scrunt before him. Gumbo is, however, distracted from connecting with a deathblow by the ever-helpful Pirk choosing this moment to jam a long syringe into the sergeant's thigh. In fairness to Pirk, the effects are quite dramatic - a shimmering cloud immediately flurries out from the nearby rockslide and coalesces around Gumbo, thickening and contracting around his form in a matter of seconds until the scrunt is coated from head to toe in a gleaming ferric sheath. He panics briefly as his airways flood with silver flakes, but the feeling swiftly dies away with his conscious scrunty thoughts as an awakening evil stares out from his tiny, beady eyes. Let's hope it realises its body needs to breathe. Scurrilous turns the Chimera multilaser to bear on one of the Tauroses. He blazes away, and it is only the driver's luck that makes him miss by inches. Groin streaks across the road like greased lightning. Greasy, greased lighting. With negligent ease he sprints across the tarmac, hand over foot, and swings himself up onto the right-most, ailing Tauros like a remarkably graceful ape. He judges the interchange of speed expertly, and whips round the grenade launcher turret a few times to dispose of unwanted momentum, with no damage to himself. The driver is still struggling to control the vehicle; the gunner is suddenly confronted with a grinning scrunt at extremely close range, and starts back violently. Urok appears to have his mind elsewhere. He aimlessly swings at his assailant, again forgetting to activate the chainblades built into his gloves. The biker fails to parry, and takes two solid thwacks to the chest. He's still standing, though, and appears to have avoided the worst of the shock blast. The truck driver busies himself with drawing a sidearm, and with his other arm, begins holding the driver's side door shut. It looks like he's shouting stuff in his cab, but no-one close enough is being quiet enough to hear what. Kreb hisses and shies back from Murdelia's sudden phosphorescence. He's not harmed by the flames at the moment, but if they both stay huddled together in this section of the bunker then he might be getting a bit blistered soon. The Tauroses skid into the fray! Well, one of them does. The other swerves wildly off the road as Groin hangs on with flippant poise. The gunner lunges at him with a wrench, but hits only air. The sole remaining operational Tauros lunges forward. Its view of the melee is blocked by the giant fuel tanker, so it does the obvious thing and launches a pair of grenades in the general direction of Grumb, seeking to remove the largest gun from combat. With an amusing floomp, floomp, two grenade shells hurtle their way up the crag. One sails over the gunner's head and off into the forest, but the other shatters on the rockface near his ledge, covering him in burning promethium! Grumb is no stranger to being set on fire, though, and, thinking quickly, brushes the flaming promethium off on Barry. Small rocks and dust tumble past Grumb's feet. The Sentinels mince into play. Given what they're faced with, they begin to wish they hadn't. Grumb winces at his scorched flesh, but vengeance is at hand. Glowering, he braces his weapon against the convenient boulder before him, and just completely fucks his assailant up. Like, it's not even funny. The flaming wreckage still has momentum, and it bounces along before smashing into the front of the fuel truck, much to the absolute horror of everyone in their right mind. The Bikers have just seen a small, offensive scrunt turn into a small, offensive scrunt statue. Gumbo's assailant is confused, but not half so confused to find his falchion swipe slammed aside by a revving chainsword and to have his left leg removed at the hip with a lightning-fast backhand. In his last seconds, the biker stares up into his own reflection, just under Gumbo's belt buckle, as he bleeds out. In abject panic, the shotgunners unload on Gumbo at point blank range; shot after shot slams into the scrunt, and he barely even notices. Urok's biker swings high; the brawler barely even has to duck. There's no joy in this combat for him.  -------- scrunnnnt Grimply leaves the Tauros with 5 structural points left. A Good Hit. It also failed its jink massively with a roll of 96 and is now Out of Control Murdelia misses, and bursts into flames. Until this stops, all melee attacks gain +d10 Energy damage with the Flame quality, and at the end of each of her turns, all entities sharing a square with her will take 2d10 Energy damage with the Blast and Flame qualities. She also has an extra 16AP against weapons that do damage through direct application of flame. Finally, she can only communicate with ancient unnamed evils until this wears off, and there will be other side effects. Yurik fails to remember things so hard that everyone in sight forgets things. Truly, a scrunt loremaster. If your scrunt doesn't have a first kiss, s/he forgets something else. Gumbo feints, but fails to kill. He also becomes a T-1000, and gains an extra 8AP to all body parts in the form of cover until this wears off. He also counts as Crippled (only a half action a turn, 2 wounds to take the other half-action) until he can pass a free-action +0 Toughness test to clear his airways. He's coated in about an inch of ferric metal from the rockslide. Finally, he can only communicate with Necron Crypteks until this wears off. Scurrilous basically uses up the other Tauros' Jink action for the turn. Groin mounts the Tauros. Not like he'd normally mount the Tauros. He has three half-actions next turn. Urok doesn't post again, and does like 8 damage to the biker he's fighting. Dude's still kicking, though. Truck driver does what he says on the tin. What's he shouting? Is it racist abuse? It's shocking, frankly. Kreb does nothing. You're not actually in the same square as Murdelia so won't get burnt. Tauroses do stuff. The out of control, nearly-wrecked one swerves wildly. The gunner tries to hit Groin, who doesn't give a gently caress. The other tauros launches two flame grenades at Grumb; yes, it's been going at high speeds, and yes, it's relatively long range, but the wonderful thing about blast weapons is that you don't need to be very accurate. Grumb takes 10 wounds, from which he should deduct his Toughness Bonus but not AP. He is not on fire (I don't remember your TB but I know you're not wearing carapace, and flame bombs have pen6). Barry is not on fire either unless you really want him to be. This is just narration; you were hit by a stray round, essentially, so I'm not counting your comrades as being hit. Sentinels have arrived on the scene! They react to the scrunts. Grumb fucks a Tauros. Almost literally. It's time for a +10 Critical to both the Motive Systems and to the Hull! There is consequently flaming wreckage next to the fuel truck, but Hull hit first so the truck's not caught in the explosion. It just took a Tauros ram, which did small amounts of damage. The Bikers do very little; Gumbo kills his on the counter-attack, and the shotgunners panicfire into him. His newfound metal skin means hey, no damage.
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Mar 31, 2015 20:45
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Trainscrunting The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnGs_yNjzKk are you getting the drug theme yet Flet awkwardly jams a dripping, reeking round into the longshot rifle while Grimply peers the gently caress out of the crags. His scrunty eyes roam all over the rock, plunging deep into gritty crevices and lingering over jutting outcrops, and his tongue flicks daintily over the pebble in his mouth. Although the scrunt gets a good firm, disturbing picture in his mind, he doesn't understand what he's looking at, because he just lacks context. Grunting, he spits out the pebble and uses his knife to dig out a rock sample from the ground, with some dim, scrunty perception that technoscrunts can do stuff with it. He stamps his feet impatiently, and is faintly surprised by the noise it creates. Murdelia erupts into flame. The blazing figure sprints towards the closest sentinel, burning branch in hand, like the cover of the world's worst heavy metal album. The Sentinel in question nimbly adjusts its posture, and her flaming swipe skitters off the leg armour plating - she may be currently embodying primordial fire, but she's unfortunately embodying it in the form of a scrunt. Keening with an unearthly frustration, Murdelia detonates her outermost skin of flame with a low faatthoooom! The Sentinel pilot screams as his flesh smoulders and eyebrows vanish, but he avoids the worst of the blast and doesn't catch light. However, his Sentinel begins to smoke in places where it shouldn't, and within moments there are flames licking the pilot's compartment, a flaming scrunt wrapped around the walker's left leg. Not to be out-done, Yurik erupts into lightning. As the power of the Warp flows through him, he drains power from all nearby electronic devices, which swirls around dramatically before conducting itself into the rockface, absorbed by who knows what. He glowers ferociously at what he imagines to be the shocked faces on the sentinel pilots, but it's a bit tricky to make out among all the pyrotechnics going on. Still, he feels their minds as ripe fruit in his mind's landscape, and mentally reaches out, to crush. Gumbo's scrunty body is weak! Weak! But the steel is strong! He still can't breathe, as iron coats the inside of his lungs and quests ever inwards, but he continues his limb-chopping onslaught and does some serious damage to the meat of the falchioneer's shoulder. In itself, it's probably not enough to incapacitate, but he realises he forgot to take his finger off the tox injector's switch to actually initiate the poisoning procedure. The deadly neurotoxin coating his blade does for the stricken biker, who topples over, gnashing and bleeding. Scurrilous mutters and snarls to himself as he squeezes the multilaser triggers to no avail! He's heard Grumb bellowing about artillery, and swiftly weighs up the cost/benefit of staying in one place inside a safe tank, or getting out there to fix it up. With a theatrical sigh and a lascivious grin, he bundles out of the turret, slides down the front of the tank, and pops the maintenance hatch using his Secret Scrunt Technique that only works on this Chimera and not any other. His utility mechandrite throbs, ominously, and begins emitting an obscene bassline. Groin executes a neat backwards cartwheel, ending in jabbing his arm-leg up and under the jaw of the unfortunate gunner, punch-kicking him in the throat. The gunner unwisely clutches at his windpipe with both hands, losing his grip on the careening vehicle and plummeting off the side! He rolls awkwardly a few times before crashing to a halt, snapping his knee backwards and passing out from the pain. Urok finds his opponent deceased, and lumbers over to the wounded shotgunner, putting him down with a couple of backhand swipes. The scrunt doesn't understand why he's not enjoying this, and the beginnings of a suicidal depression begin to take hold. The truck driver appears frustrated with the response he's getting from the radio. Frantic, he spies Grimply tasting rocks up on the ridge, and blazes away at him with his laspistol. Fear lends him accuracy, and it's only the scrunt's diminutive stature and camocloak that prevent the sniper from nursing a couple of fresh burns. As it is, the red-hot blast marks in the rock remain for a fair while longer than the sniper believes is normally the case. Kreb is distracted by the explosion of Murdelia, sending a hail of crackling lasfire way over the cockpits of the encroaching walkers. His lasbolts curve slightly as they sail off past the actinic storm caused by Yurik. In any case, it's a fair bet that the armour of the sentinels would defeat his lasblaster; he'd either have to specifically aim at the pilots, or deploy his combi-plasma weapon, if he wanted to do much damage. The sole remaining Tauros driver is trapped on a speeding vehicle with a manic, drugged-up scrunt, and he can't make the steering respond. It is safe to say he's had better days. He at least keeps the vehicle on the straight and narrow, although it's dangerously close to veering into the Chimera's side armour. The Groin/Xenos entity registers the faint chance that even its magnificent agility may not necessarily be proof from being flung from a t-bone crash. Perhaps it's time to get things under control. The Sentinel pilots are already distraught at the sight of scrunts in full war panoply, and it does not take much prompting from Yurik to make them react the same way many people throughout the ages have reacted to scrunts. Namely, most of them try to kill themselves. Strapped into the cockpit as they are, they are unable to unload into the sentinel fuel tanks, or to overload their heavy flamers - the leftmost pilot does his best at slicing his jugular with his combat knife, while the middle pilot seeks death by cleansing flame. At the last second, he jinks the sentinel into Murdelia's fireball, shrieking as his uniform, and his sentinel, catch light. The rightmost pilot cannot bring his chainblade to bear on Murdelia, but succeeds in scraping the scrunt off his leg, with a motion not unlike cleaning dogshit off a shoe. The scrunt is unharmed, but prone! Grumb fires aimlessly into the air, distracted by his comrade's unexpected lunchbreak, and by the sight of the remaining shotgunner calmly placing his gun under his own chin and holding down the trigger. The bikers are dealt with; now for the prize!  ---- scrrrunnnnnt Grimply groks rocks. He doesn't have any relevant skills to make use of his perceptions, though. He has determined that the rock formation looks natural (i.e. not built traditionally), very unlikely to be hollow, and rocky. It's also surprisingly acoustic. Take your perceptions and rock sample to a sciencescrunt. Murdelia whiffs on her charge (it'd be an improvised attack anyway, you're still holding the gun), but detonates to cause 10 damage pre-toughness. The Sentinel is on fire; the pilot is not. Murdelia is clinging onto a leg. Yurik gets his psyker on. As mentioned in the OOC thread - Chimera battery is dead. Truck battery is dead. All electrical devices within Electrical Dead Zone are dead (no battery). Grumb's gravchute IS NOT DEAD. Scurrilous's internal power reservoir IS NOT DEAD Gumbo slashes; he still can't breathe. It's now a +10 T test to get your actions back; next round +20, +30, etc. Each failure after round three means you start accumulating Fatigue. Also I forgot to use the tox injector on your last attack so it happened on this one instead. Groin legpunches the gunner off the moving Tauros (failed Ag test to stay on). This, plus the fall damage, ends him. Urok doesn't post again! Groundwork is laid for killing off his character if nothing is heard in the OOC thread! He kills a wounded shotgunner! Truckmans shoots at Grimply! He scores a really good hi oh no he doesn't Grimply's very small and smells of prawns. Camouflaged prawns. The slow-cooling blastmarks might be gun, or they might be rock. You just don't know. Tauros goes forward a bit. Sorta fails to get his car back under control, but look! A working engine! Sentinels are not, in fact, always ready. Leftmost sentinel pilot took a bunch of wounds and is suffering Blood Loss, i.e a 10% chance to die each round. Middle and Right sentinels are on fire. Middle pilot is on fire, too. Right sentinel should, really, have gutted Murdelia with a chainblade - however, there was no point in her doing a standard charge as she couldn't scratch the armour, only the pilot. So, her charge became a grappling charge - unfortunately, the sentinel pilot piloted his way out of it! Murdelia is prone. Grumb misses, biker kills self. No more bikers! Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:22 on Apr 8, 2015 |
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Apr 8, 2015 21:19
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Deluge The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nekoB3pAUqk Grimply blasts away, trusting in Flet's expert directions of leffabitrighabitnahFAHR. His reeking round flies straight and true, entering the hapless pilot's skull through the nasal cavity, to his indescribable torment. He thrashes, briefly, and then lies still, horrible toxins pulsing through his veins. Then the round detonates. The human's body is soaked in weaponized acid, along with the interior of the sentinel. The controls fizz and hiss as their components are forcibly given protons they have no interest in possessing, and the walker rocks once, twice, before falling over. Whether the flames or acid claim the pilot's body first is yet to be seen, although given how close the flames are coming to the heavy flamer's promethium tanks the race may soon be over. Murdelia is thus left without a target. Struggling to her feet, she bellows incoherently, cigar long since reduced to ash. She lumbers into the nearest Sentinel's personal space moments before detonating in another pyroclastic display, sheering away the previously-suicidal pilot's face in a furnace-like blast. A grinning skull sits within the blazing walker, which stands mute and inactive. Yurik crackles and sparks from the recent electrical storm. His robe is clinging to him in rather an upsetting way, and to take his mind off this unpleasant sensation he wings off a shot at the remaining unscathed sentinel. It glances off the pilot's head, smashing through the helmet and gouging a horrendous furrow across his scalp. Astoundingly, the driver remains alive, clinging tenaciously to life even as the blood ebbs from his gaping neck wound. Gumbo hacks and coughs, as scrunts often do. Unlike most scrunts, he succeeds in hawking up a huge lump of phlegm and steel, that unfolds on the ground, steaming, like a T-1000's cumrag. Much to the dismay of the sergeant, it opens up two tiny eyes and squawks "DADDY?" at him. Pirk regards it dispassionately, which is strange, as the scrunty part of Gumbo wants to do nothing more than sprint away from it as quickly as possible. He does so. After a brief hectic thrash through the undergrowth, he finds himself outside the door to the truck, being stared at open-mouthed by a bruised and bleeding driver. Escape! Scurrilous frenziedly jams his metal mechandrite into the bowels of the Chimera again and again. Several of the mechanically-inclined scrunts in the limo cheer indiscriminately. By the time he has filled the Chimera's battery with his powerful juice, Scurrilous is spent, and exhausted. His robot companion hands him a lit cigarette. Groin, to the Tauros driver's ineluctable horror, leaps and wraps himself around the stricken man like the world's vilest snake.  His hands rove everywhere, with surgical precision - the Tauros is expertly brought back under control and screeches to a halt, thanks to the scrunt's preternatural and chemically induced agility. Groin's heightened senses are slightly affronted by the man's insistence on screaming so much. Urok is lost to thoughts of depression as he surveys the smoky carnage around him, and does nothing of use. Kreb yees faintly to himself and burrows deeper within cover, still haunted by thoughts of impending firestorm, completely ignoring the reality of current, present firestorm several metres to his right. The Truck Driver is astounded to see a big metal scrunt suddenly slam into his truck door. At this range he can hardly miss, and slams three burning lasbolts straight into Gumbo's face. The scrunt sarge barely noticed, although he does get slight laser burns from taking a shot right between the eyes. The Tauros Driver flexes as hard as he can. Terror lends him strength, and he flings Groin prone onto the bonnet in front of him. Retching, the driver draws a knife. The remaining Sentinel driver knows he is a dead man. The sheer amount of blood running down his neck and pooling in the cabin beneath him is testament to that. Still, he resolves to sell his life dearly and to burn, burn, burn the witch! He stomps, wobbily, away from Murdelia, muzzily reasoning that if she's on fire already someone must have sorted her out. He fixes his sights on Yurik, standing out in the open, and hoses him down with flaming napalm. The scrunt screams as his skin blisters and blackens, but he draws in only flames as he inhales. The pain is intense as he cooks from both inside and out, and He stomps, wobbily, away from Murdelia, muzzily reasoning that if she's on fire already someone must have sorted her out. He fixes his sights on Yurik, standing out in the open, and hoses down a completely separate section of forest with flaming napalm. The witch-scrunt stands, smugly, unhamed. Grumb knows this is his moment to shine. He slaps his gravchute to activate it, hoists Clive over his shoulder, and drives headlong off the cliff.  Grumb is not a wise scrunt. It is only his gravchute that prevents him from becoming a feculent smear on the tarmac, but even still, Grumb resolutely ignored the warning chimes that indicated a failed initiation, and only managed to switch it on halfway through his descent. The scrunt crashes through the canopy of the tree below him before impacting solidly on a sturdy branch. He shakes his head woozily, and may have cracked a rib, but at least he's closer to his goal!  Off in the distance to the west, Grimply hears hollow, cracking booms. Is that artillery? So early? Or are the Leman Russ's firing at extreme range, out of sheer desperation? ------ scrunt Grimply kills pilot. Acid round has Blast; it has completely hosed the controls of this sentinel, and although it's still technically lootable, it's a fast-dissolving shell of a vehicle that is currently on fire. Not exactly primo loot. Murdelia has to get up and then move. She ambles into next sentinel's square and explodes, killing the pilot. This sentinel is also on fire. Again, technically lootable but will take ages to fix up. Yurik gets a lucky shot but, unfortunately, failed to specify a body location on his Called Shot. So I rolled, it hit the head, and the pilot's clinging on by a single wound. Gumbo gives birth to a lovely baby metalscrunt. Or maybe he's just going completely mental. He runs from his responsibilities. Scurrilous charged the Chimera battery but took a level of fatigue. Groin is still on three half-actions a turn. He grapples the driver, succeeds in gaining control of him, and uses this control to operate the vehicle! Urok and Kreb do very little. Truck driver shoots Gumbo at point blank, connecting three times and actually scoring a wound by rolling a 10! Gumbo takes one wound Tauros driver breaks the grapple! Groin is prone, and he now has a knife. The car isn't moving, by the way. Vehicles don't have inertia in 40k. Sentinel flames at Yurik, who psy-dodges through the power of prescience. Grumb sort of hosed up and took some fall damage through making like Randy Savage and snapping into a tree. Nine wounds, minus toughness. He is poised to leap on the sentinel next turn, and can do so as a charge action regardless what direction it takes, unless it double-times it away from him (e.g. if someone frightens the driver). booms happened scrunt SCRUNT also tell me what Scurrilous should do next, if he can't do it himself
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Apr 15, 2015 20:23
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Cacophony The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFR0xdcWu9Y&t=13s (I was thinking of this instead but there's some guy repeatedly whispering "scrunt" over the top of it and it's really worrying) Grimply descends with alacrity! Mostly because he forgot to unclip the safety ratchet on his abseiling gear until he was halfway down the rock face; his journey down 17 metres of rock ends with an extremely firm jolt to the thighs and crotch as the cable finally catches. He's kinda into it, really, so no harm done. Flet scampers down behind him. Murdelia gets into the spirit of things. In this case, a primordial spirit of fire. She books it away from the flaming Sentinels, but whether this is due to a scruntly comprehension that flaming vehicles tend to explode, or from an unearthly desire to burn and consume, is unknown. Regardless, she sprints into the soggy foliage to the south of the road, and detonates seconds later. The resultant fire is by no means raging, but it seems to have taken hold. Yurik blasts the mind of the unfortunate Sentinel pilot. The human's mind is momentarily scrambled, and his memories reformulate in such a way to make him believe he's surrounded by horrible Xenos monsters who want him dead! Unfortunately for Yurik, this is in fact the case, and the human's behaviour becomes less erratic than the scrunt would otherwise like. Cursing, he scuttles off into the smoke, to avoid a repeat of the "flamer incident". Gumbo wrenches the door open despite the frantic attempts of the driver to hold it shut. The metalloid scrunt bellows what is presumably a warcry, which reaches the ears of the driver sounding something like "K̢͔̭ͅH̷̭YA̛̜̠̮F̢F̧̟̯̘̹͈̺̰O̲͖͇̼͕O̙̬̙̺͓ͅS̳̰̠̥͓̗̪E̢̺̘̭̝̣̘E̝͕̦̜̹̥͝D̴͖͎H̙͈̫͉̼I̖̤̫̠͇͇͡S̘͔̤̳̞̹̱S̱̳͉̠͎ͅͅB̠͎̬̫̱̭O̷̼̝͈ͅY҉͙̣",, lashes out with his chainsword, and drives the point into the luckless human's clavicle. The pain is immense, but he swiftly loses his hold on life as the tox-injector does its work. The driver drenches the windshield with blood as he expires noisily, and Gumbo claims another limb for his tally. Scurrilous totters weakly towards the front of the truck, his thirst for the embrace of the machine not yet quenched. His mechandrite continues to emit music from an unknown source. Groin is on his back in front of an angry man; exactly where he wants to be. Not even bothering to stand up before attacking, he lunges his lower limbs upwards, grabbing the driver by the throat with his leg-arm. He discharges the grappling hook at point blank range through the human's skull, shrieking what is presumably a Xenos curse of "G̫̻͙̞̼EH͙͖̻̫̙͢D̠O͚̭̣̱͍͠V̢̮̖̯̖̜H̟̺̥̠͞A̴̩K͙̜͘J̳͙Ȩ̩̠͍̼̝̻̯E͓̹̙̠͠ͅR̲̣̼͢" before retracting the cable. The driver topples from the vehicle, dead. Urok begins to make his peace with the world as Kreb yees faintly to himself in the bunker. The Sentinel Driver, driven half out of his mind by Yurik's tender ministrations, angles the vehicle downwards and begins sweeping the ground at his feet with long jets of napalm. This has the benefit of enabling Grumb a clearer shot at him, but it does mean the Sentinel is standing in the middle of a firestorm! If it doesn't leave soon, it'll catch light! Thankfully, the driver doesn't have to worry about this anymore. Grumb descends from the tree like a dark, filthy, reeking angel. Or a giant, rabid squirrel. He lazily flips in midair as he approaches. There is a complicated moment, and by the end of it, Grumb is left sitting at the controls of the Sentinel, and a significantly flatter driver is choking to death under an extremely large scrunt. From up on the crag, Barrius and Barry applaud, but Grumb still has to pilot his new acquisition out of the flames!  All of the enemy lie dead and dying, but they've presumably got radio messages off, and Grumb's reasonably sure they're planning on burning this section of forest somehow. The crashing, booming noises from the west are getting a lot closer - they sound kinda familiar, just... bigger. Unfortunately, both of the scrunts that were in a position to actually see what was causing them have since descended the rockface in their own special ways. Maybe it's time to beat a hasty exit, but then there's all this cool stuff lying around... ---- sc. run. t. Grimply zips down like a scrunt poledancer; he is 8m from the ground. Murdelia booms and toasts some squirrels. Flames have occured. Murdelia's powers have lessened, her flames have dampened, and she now has only 12AP against flame weapons. Yurik makes the sentinel pilot hallucinate. He now believes gruesome aliens are surrounding him. Good going, Yurik. Gumbo decided that actually feinting through a closed truck door was somewhat unlikely, and instead succeeded in an opposed strength test to get it open. Driver can't really dodge due to no space. The scruntgeant then proceeded to, once again, nearly sever his opponent's arm. Scurrilous moves Groin forgets that going prone means you have a hefty penalty to melee attacks. However he connects anyway with a Righteous Fury, demonstrating that it is better to be lucky than good. Groin's powers have lessened, he only has two actions per turn now (normal amount). Agility bonus remains. Urok continues on suicide watch; Kreb also has me warming up my PC-killin' stick. The Sentinel, amazingly, rolls the one result on the scatter table that would not immediately result in scrunts being shot; he gets a 7, a.k.a. "shoots wildly at feet". He flames the ground. A small fire takes hold. Grumb hits the third loving Righteous Fury of this round. He is now piloting the sentinel; such overkill deserves results. ALL ENEMIES ARE DEAD. WE ARE STILL IN STRUCTURED, NOT NARRATIVE, TIME. Functionally speaking, I don't want to go through more combat rounds - all this means is you cannot e.g. use Foresight (you don't have ten spare minutes) and you can't do stuff that takes large amounts of time, unless you want to run the risk of being bombarded. This does not mean you cannot e.g. loot vehicles, it just means you cannot do it in a consequence-free environment. Let me know what you want to do and I'll let you know the probable ramifications. Combat drugs will wear off in two minutes. Preemptive lol, for when they do.
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Apr 22, 2015 18:37
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SCRUNTINEL IS ALWAYS READY The Crossroads Malbrathia-3  Grumb fumbles with the controls after tipping out his deceased co-pilot into the flames beneath him, but manages to get the hang of them in time to prevent the walker catching light. Barrius and Barry watch Grumb's ride sway drunkenly from one side of the road to the other, slowly realising that Grumb isn't coming back for them and that they have no means of descent other than a precarious free-climb descent. Kreb scuttles up to the Scruntinel once it's free of the gathering inferno, and tries to grab at its legs as it minces past. There are a hairy few moments as he fails to judge its motion correctly, and he is knocked prone a couple of times, but he soon gets the hang of it and swarms up to perch on the roof, narrowly avoiding having his hand crushed in the whirring knee joints. ----- Grumb didn't gently caress up an operate test badly enough to catch light. Kreb got like three climb rolls in the high eighties and nineties, but then scored a 6 for his fourth roll. There probably would have been repercussions had they both hosed up, but as it stands, Kreb has no problems other than a little extra mud. I've forgotten whether Kreb has a comrade or not but if he does he's not in Cohesion until he, too, can scuttle up onto the roof. Grumb is nowhere near Cohesion with his comrades and can't do comrade actions until he is. Get scrunting, all.
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Apr 25, 2015 17:53
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Scruntftably Numb The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0ZuYlXzA94 A baseline of paranoia presumably runs through the mind of all scrunts present; no matter their individual agendas, or their inability to track what's going on most of the time, the prospect of imminent firey death galvanises them into action smoothly, even after the last human stops screaming. They still dash around like headless chickens and get everywhere, though. Murdelia sprints off into the distance, trailing flames and hollering incoherently. Nearby scrunts look on incuriously; she has previous form. Groin tumbles into the front seat of the Chimera, wrapping round the controls like a lecherous octopus with a skin condition, gunning the engine, retracting it from under the truck, and lazily spinning donuts in the middle of the road as scrunts and Barrius attempt to get close enough to it to board. Jekk takes up station in the Tauros, brimming with excitrement (it's like excitement, but more scrunty) at finally being given a chance to drive, as a passing technoscrunt takes an interest in the turret. They will be able to get wheels turning, but possibly not all in the same direction. Grumb stomps the Sentinel to and fro as he gets the hang of the controls. He hoses down a patch of forest with jets of napalm as he accidentally hits the big red button, and then hoses down another patch of forest because it's funny. Barry, realising he is in fact alone on the crag, and the captive PDF trooper simply a hallucination, begins his long, slow, trembling descent. Gumbo, by process of elimination, figures out which pedals do what. Unfortunately, he's too short to both see out of the windscreen and stomp on the pedals, so the truck slowly and lazily wends its way south, tipping precariously as it veers from side to side. The scruntgeant can't drive this thing alone, but also can't currently communicate in any meaningful way. Still, in a couple of minutes he'll be in a communicative state again. A large chunk of iron shell's already fallen off where Yurik prodded him. More to the point, the glove compartment on the passenger side flies open as Yurik props his boots up on the dashboard, spilling papers everywhere! The window's still open and Gumbo's veering wildly, they'll get everywhere! The scrunts that have remained with the limo look about in abject confusion. They can't push their limo north - they'll get flamed, and most of the area's on fire. They can't push their limo east - they'll run into Groin. They can't push their limo south - the truck's in the way. They compromise by pushing the limo round in a wide circle under Grimply's watching gaze, shouting SLAM SECTOR SCRUNT FATHER LORD DRAGON as they whirl faster and faster. Wait, where did that last bit come from? They go at it for a minute or two, occasionally breaking off to vomit. Things seem fairly orderly, in scrunt terms, until... The Crash The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0ZkhlJUQAM It starts with a crash. Then a roar. Then a shaking of the ground. The wall of sound is indescribable. The thashing, crashing, clashing noise of a thousand lead bars the size of continents slamming together. The sonic wave floors the scrunts, knocking the weaker members from their feet as they scream, wordlessly, drowned out by the din. They wait for death with more than the usual scrunt urgency, but it doesn't come. This noise isn't an artillery barrage - it's coming from the crags! The crags which, incidentally, Barry is halfway down. Understandably, the gunner's companion loses his grip as he claps both hands over his ears in panic. He plummets from halfway down the cliff face, smacking off it once or twice, before crashing through the branches of a stunted tree at the base of the crags. Astoundingly, he's still moving feebly as he lies in his crater, pawing at the air with his one remaining good arm. If no-one comes for him, he's a goner. The noise recedes, eventually, but by the point the drugged-up scrunts get their wits about them, they've realised the effects of the drugs they've taken have receded too. Gumbo squats in amidst a pile of iron shavings; Murdelia lies in the fetal position in a coccoon of scorched grass, off to the east; Groin slumps in his seat like a sandbag. Something has been taken from them, and unfortunately, they have a very good idea on how to get it back. The noise begins again, but lesser, weaker. Fearful scrunts turn their heads to the west, and realise their time is up. The artillery barrage has begun; they see streaks of smoke whistling down past the crags, to the west, creeping slowly towards them. It might be time to make an exit. ------ scrrunnnnnnt Yurik needs +10 Ag to capture flying papers, if he wants them. Or he can get out and collate them with no roll, but he'll be out of the truck and time spent arsing around doing this will mean he can't get up to much else. Any scrunts with Total Recall: you're not a scrunt with Total Recall stop reading this you little poo poorealise the cacophony is an immeasurably louder recording, reenactment, or playback of the rockslide kicked off by Grumb Barry can be rescued narratively. We still ain't got shells incoming in your area yet, although they are very imminent. Scrunts on comedown from EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG: one level of Fatigue, and lose two points from two characteristics (your choice). These points do not heal like regular characteristic damage, but are returned on consumption of another dose of EXPERIMENTAL COMBAT DRUG Urok will die in the barrage and be replaced by Andrluk once you get back to the farm. You're heading there, right? Pretty sure that was mentioned. If not, do shout. Kreb clings tenuously to life due to recent posting.
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Apr 28, 2015 21:59
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Ti- Ti- Time Is Running Out The Crossroads Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Adz32EMA_M8 Brushing aside corroded metal, Pirk dives between Gumbo's outstretched legs, much to the dismay of onlookers. It's only to stomp on the relevant pedals as Gumbo shouts instructions, though - the young scrunt might be choking on iron filings but at least he's somewhat sheltered from what's going on outside. More thundering booms crash out from the crags, but nothing like the initial cacophonous onslaught. These sound almost like cracking explosions; they're different from the gentle pop of the firestorm shells and the low, bowel-trembling thud of the traditional earthshaker rounds. En masse, the scrunts appear to revert to crude instinct, and they attempt to retreat to the last safe place they knew. Still, it's not an all-out rout. The limousine kicks into life, revving and spluttering, and the panicking technoscrunts pile in like a faintly less disturbing clown car; Gumbo gets the truck working after a fashion, and ponderously swings it round to point east, vague memories of the map printout flickering through his exhausted mind - at least Yurik is there to remind him, flicking through his sheaf of documents, if he takes a wrong turn. Groin weaves the Chimera dizzily across the roadway as Scurrilous lurks in the turret, slowly recharging his batteries and smoking an oily rollup. Grimply clamps himself to the top of the Chimera; he seems to have acquired a taste for being higher than those around him. The Tauros put-put-putts behind at a fraction of its top speed, as Jekk keeps a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the random technoscrunt occasionally fires the mounted grenade launcher at interesting-looking bits of scenery. Grumb minces his scruntinel after the convoy, desperately attempting to keep up, as Kreb hangs off the back of the driver's cab, bouncing up with every step and yee-ing desperately. There is some semblance of order to the retreat; Arnika harrasses the limoscrunts into stopping to pick up the comatose Murdelia who's made it a few feet down the road, and the scrunts seem content with what they've got. They leave the shattered vehicle shells behind them, along with the functional motorbikes, and appear happy to simply get out of the line of fire with all scrunts intact. Well, most scrunts. Urok has shrugged off any attempt to bundle him into a vehicle, with a snarl and a backhand. Maybe the sonic assault's knocked something loose in his head, or maybe he's just always wanted to fist-fight a tank, but the brawler stays in the combat zone, close to the rockslide, and waits. He doesn't need to wait long, but occupies his time with collecting the heads of the biker squad - cocking his remaining grenades and jamming them under the remains, presumably in case any of them escape the coming firestorm. He barely registers the thundering booms, or the distant revving of Leman Russ engines, as he clambers up and over the debris and scree, and sets off into the oncoming inferno. The vehicles speed off east, leaving hell behind them. ---------- By this point the scrunts are getting quite good at differentiating crashing explosions. This latest one was a doozy; shades of rockfall, juddering dislocation, with a pleasing overture of heavy ordnance. The convoy has just crested a small hill - whipping out his scruntnoculars, Grimply's worst fears are confirmed. The artillery barrage, coupled with a few well-placed battlecannon shells, has dislodged a considerable chunk of the rockslide blocking the two Leman Russes from following the scrunts! In the distance, he can see tank crew members working together to shift some of the smaller boulders, while the tanks themselves bulldoze the largest rocks out of the way. Grimply looks at the huge plumes of smoke billowing from the Chimera and limo's exhaust, as well as the trail of skidmarks, broken trees and puddles of oil that makes up any scrunty journey of more than about ten feet, and swallows, hard. The tanks might not be as fast as the scrunt convoy, but any idiot can follow smoke signals. --------- scrrunnnnt Scrunts with Total Recall will realise that the crags are replaying and amplifying the sound of Grumb's autocannon, shot by shot, as well as any explosions that hit them Urok dies. Scrunts have had about fifteen minutes in which to do scrunty things, change vehicles, reload, sort out equipment, take up station on turrets, get First Aid, boss the limo scrunts around, do whatever they fancy, etc. Also, you're going to be followed by tanks. If you don't do anything, they'll follow you home and gently caress you up, and you know this. You probably can't take them in combat, in that you don't have anything that can pierce their front armour, and they've got nasty weapons. Even if you could take them in combat there's no way in hell I'm letting you loot two Leman Russes at this point in the game, so there's not much reason. Instead, you're going to use skills to avoid them. What you do is up to you - you have narrative freedom to describe the route back to the farm. Someone's presumably going to want to come up with some way of masking the exhaust, and either doing it or getting someone else to do it. Apart from that, you'll have to do whatever you think is sensible to throw the tanks off your trail - this could be Operate tests to weave through rough terrain onto another road, it could be Strength tests to move tree trunks and stones at a fork in the road to make it look like you took the other branch, it could be literally anything you want so long as it makes sense and isn't a blatant pisstake like "I destroy the only bridge ever!!". The goal is deception rather than prevention. I will give bonuses to smart plans and penalties to lazy ones. Any questions, scrunt over to the recruitment thread. I want one test from each of you, and the number of successes will dictate whether you've barely escaped, whether you've vanished like a fart in the night, or whether there'll be Baneblade squads and a Titan waiting when you get back to the farm. (if you've got stuff you wanted to do before leaving the combat zone but didn't get a chance to post, just put it as a "before leaving, [scrunt] tries to _____" bit at the start of your post. I forgot I'm gonna be out on Tuesday so I'm updating early, and I don't want to punish people for not scrunting several days before they thought they'd have to) Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 23:43 on May 2, 2015 |
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May 2, 2015 23:17
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Moola posted:I want to drive around the forest like a lunatic, setting fire to as much poo poo as possible in an attempt to mask our smoke trail with a smoke screen from a forest fire. Groin will do this by throwing fire grenades, and shooting fire shells! what are you actually rolling against like, what skill or characteristic do you see yourself testing here
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May 6, 2015 23:04
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Well, "on", but yes
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May 6, 2015 23:24
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The Scrunts Are Back In Town In Transit Malbrathia-3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYoYb1xluG0 To a scrunt under stress, fifteen minutes can sometimes feel like a lifetime. As much as two weeks! The average scrunt lifetime. On the plus side, once a general sense of "holy poo poo we're being followed" propagates through the herd, the scrunts are able to utilise this strange time dilation effect, and use it to make considered tactical choices. Or if they're just doing the first thing that comes to mind, at least they hide it well. Yurik starts things off with a bang by directing the convoy in entirely the wrong direction. Such are his instructions that the entire convoy manages to spin 180 and head directly towards the tanks. Kreb aims carefully at the vehicles before realising that actually they're getting bigger, and begins loudly hissing - the other scrunts, long inured to his peculiar ways, manage to successfully interpret this as a warning, and bring themselves to bear once again. No harm done, but a few precious minutes have been wasted. Hopefully no-one notices - at least the psyscrunt has his papers to riffle through, as a consolation prize. Groin notices, though. A suspicious scrunt at the best of times, he quickly cottons on to the fact that the tanks should be in his rear view mirror. He leaps to the only logical conclusion - treachery! He reacts as only a scrunt on severe combat drug comedown can - seemingly at random! In an attempt to get as far away from whichever traitorous scrunt tried to lead them to the enemy, he embarks on a series of cunning evasive manoeuvres by immediately veering off road and plowing through shrubs and small trees, screeching at the top of his voice and hurling firebombs about the place in an attempt to sow confusion and discord. Some raw animal intelligence guides Groin's armleg, as he kickthrows grenades into bundles of old leaves and under logs sheltered by foliage. Somehow, in the middle of a sodden forest, mere weeks before monsoon season hits, Groin manages to start a fairly respectable forest fire. Grumb has some reason to be pleased by this. His attempts at trampling the scrunt's path have borne unfortunate fruit; rather than obscuring the direction they're travelling in, some ill-judged chainsaw work has actually made some quite large conifers fall in the shape of a giant arrow pointing, as far as the gunner can tell, in exactly the direction of the farm. Desperate attempts to remove this sign via chainsaw and Scruntinel foot have only resulting in what looks like a series of frantic underlinings, adding further emphasis. As the forest fire takes hold, Grumb squirts a few surreptitious jets of promethium, hoping to erase his handiwork - the end result is, uh.  Oops. Stripping down, Grimply cajoles the Chimera scrunts into a nightmarish, pissy jamboree. Any onlooker would be horrified to see Grimply remove his clothing, peeling off filthy cloth to stand resplendent in his shiny black stealth suit underneath, camo cloak billowing behind him in the wind.  Scrunt after scrunt ascends the roof of the Chimera to dampen Grimply's rags under his watchful eye - astoundingly, it actually seems to be working, and the emissions of the Chimera die down markedly. Limoscrunts swiftly get the idea, stripping a robe off a complaining technoscrunt and jamming it into the exhaust, and Kreb handles the exhaust from the Scruntinel via the simple expedient of sucking down the exhaust fumes himself. As a bonus, Grimply notices the tank commander on the leading Leman Russ spot what's going on through magnoculars - leering, and unbuckling his cloak to add to the fetid pile crowding the exhaust pipes, he waves and points at the horrified man. The crewman staggers back against the turret hatch, clutching first at his chest and then for his service pistol. The crack of a gunshot wafts through the forest a few seconds later as the man's corpse slides back into the turret, dead by his own hand. One down, thinks the sniper. Kreb continues to aim. There's not much he can do against a tank, and the tanks aren't even close to being in range given that this has been explicitly pointed out to be a narrative vehicle chase necessitating skill rolls rather than an actual combat necessitating tactical actions, but aiming is what he knows. Thankfully, it actually pays off - alone of all the scrunts, he notices a herd of animals grazing in the forest in the path of the tanks. Large, lumbering, faintly-rabbit-like beasts that don't appear to have been spooked by the convoy, he figures he might still be able to persuade them into blundering onto the road, getting in the way and tangling a few treads. He can either aim a shot at them directly, which is probably easy to connect with but is unlikely to spook the entire herd, or he can take a more difficult shot at what appears to be a colossal wasps nest and hopefully spook the lot of them. There's also a worryingly feculent-looking pustule growing on the side of a nearby tree, if he fancies the mystery third option - medium difficulty to hit, but uncertain results. He'll have to be quick, though - the convoy's passing out of range. He doesn't really think in these terms - it's more a case of BEASTS! SHOOT! HSSSSS! - but as long as it gets results... Murdelia takes advantage of Grumb's great big flaming arrow with some art of her own - by using the gunner's massive fuckup to draw attention to her own attempts at deception, she actually enhances her success. Several minutes later, when the tanks pass by, the crew will indeed be misled by this crude artefact of scrunty culture, and will argue for some time as to whether it's a trap, whether it's heresy, or whether it's a heretical trap. They will of course not trust it in the slightest, but by wasting valuable pursuit time the tank crew will greatly lessen their chances of tracking down the convoy of stolen vehicles. Some time down the road, Gumbo gets lucky; Yurik finally stops trying to give directions. The sergeant has a chance to try and remember which way they should be going, and soon enough he realises they're coming to another crossroads. A knackered, battered, pothole ridden track heading off into the middle of nowhere crosses a well-maintained highway that would probably get them to within a couple of miles of the farm. The crossroads stands shortly before a bridge over a narrow gully path leading into a tunnel.  pictured - the bridge Exasperated, the sergeant flips a coin, and settles on the track. His decision has hidden benefits - the road's so hosed up that not even a scrunt convoy could make their mark on it, although the constant bone-shuddering jarring as pothole after pothole means the scrunts on piss duty have a horrible time of it. The fuel in the tanker sloshes back and forth as the truck teeters precariously down the road, curving down a hillside until it doubles back through the unlit tunnel under the highway. Still, Mung isn't convinced. It's not enough that the convoy should succeed in evasion - the tanks must fail to find them! At the crossroads, he whacks the driver of the limo over the back of the head with a wrench, and seizes the wheel himself! Gibbering to himself, he floors the accelerator and pounds the brake simultaneously, wrenching the steering wheel to and fro to try and create as many skidmarks as possible. It's wasted effort in some respects - the previous driver would probably have done the same - but it does the job, and soon there's a healthy set of tracks leading halfway across the bridge. Mung tosses out a few bits of scrunty paraphenalia, and a couple of scrunts, before doubling back and high-tailing it down the hillside track in pursuit of the convoy. Andrluk sees this on his descent. In particular, he sees the words SLAM SECTOR daubed in paint on the roof of the limo! He can't actually read, but something about the shape of the letters sings to him. He also sees the big menacing metal boxes lumbering over the previous hill, apparently in pursuit of the limo. This also sort of sings to him, but it's really more of a discordant yell. He's not too happy about them, and pretends to consider his next move while scratching idly at his clumps of bodily hair. He's managed to retain control of the parachute complex, and has a couple of options. He could try and land by the convoy, because it looks like a load of scrunts seem to be running it and they've set up a good old fashioned piss rota. He could try and land by the tanks, probably dying quite quickly quite far away from the rest of the scrunts, but definitely delaying the enemy for a while. Or he could try and land on the bridge, leave his orbital drop-barrel as a distraction, maybe kill a couple of scrunts for kicks, then jump off the bridge and join the convoy. It's quite a tall bridge, but he does have a parachute. Sort of. ----- scrunt look what you've done ok so i'm not doing an update for everyone individually as most of this is taken in aggregate, but: Grimply now gets +10 using the camo cloak against creatures tracking him by scent, rather than +0, because they will have no desire to go anywhere near him. he has also killed a man through sheer perversion. Kreb can choose between an easy shot for little gain, a hard shot for high gain, or a medium shot for uncertain gain. there is no "lose" state here, you're blasting a bolt of plasma that'll recharge by the next time you need to use it and if you miss, welp, who cares Gumbo passes a tactics check to make his navigate easier, then gets a ludicrous number of successes with a roll of 17 + bonuses. hurrah. Mung acquits himself well on his first skill challenge, with a roll of 18 + bonuses. go mung. Andrluk (god drat i cannot spell that name) has options. He is not bound by these options and can choose to do more stuff instead! If he has a plan for getting away from tanks once he lands on them now is the time to share!! currently you guys are narrowly ahead on points. the tanks will have to get very lucky to find you, but you'll probably have to lay low at the farm for a bit unless you fancy being woken up by men with guns drawn to all the general scrunting going on. this means no explosions, and probably no large scrunt gatherings. you can pull ahead and remove this necessity if you have any more plans you wish to implement, but really i'm just wanting a decision from Kreb and Andrluk so we can move this forward. the tunnel is p much a narrative convenience; we can make this the next Thing (i.e. you get into escapades in there), or you can just hang out in the dark for a bit before going back to the farm for the next update, it's up to you. i am, however, envisaging a return to the farm first. e: also the forest fire is still ongoing, it's just, y'know, i can't describe what it's done to the tanks until the pursuit's over Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 21:30 on May 20, 2015 |
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May 20, 2015 21:22
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