|
Grumb Slanger, Scrunthold Grumb sits back, immensely satisfied with himself. He started his first chant! It went pretty well, all things considered. The grungy lot's been whipped into a revelrous frenzy, which is just a couple steps below 'orgy of violence' on the Scrunt Scale of Alarming Hubbubs. Soon he would whip this miserable lot into shape, and build a new society on Planet Slam Sector [wherever that is]. A glorious new society - full of grunting, ominous stares and asthmatic wheezing. Grumb chews on the end of his cigar as he leans back against the cold steel of the bulkhead. Just then, something catches his ear. "AGHH, NOW ALL YER DONE IS STRIPPING THE DENG THENG, GIVVIT 'ERE!" He turns his dangerously swollen head to see a group of moderate-to-threatening-sized scrunts heaving and scraping at the lid of the nearest porthole, trying to pry it open with a slew of rusty wrenches and awls. Perhaps they are eager to get a firsthand look at the majesty of open space! Or perhaps their aim is to vent some of the hideous stench. Their motives are unclear. Grumb begins to stare, in that way that only a scrunt can stare at something. "FECK! YER WEAK AS RAT FARTS IN A YANKEE CANDLES. GIMME AT IT, YE STANKIN' HOSER" Grumb's eyes widen, as he chews his cigar absentmindedly. He can't quite put his finger on it... "I'LL BOIL YER EYES IF'N YOU TALK TO ME LOIK THAT. WE JUST GOTSTA GET LEEVURAGE". Something is definitely wrong with this. Grumb knows, deep down, that what they're doing is not right. He stands up, and hobbles over. "W'ssal this nonsense!?" Grumb spits, approaching the group of inferior beta scrunts. "Whabbuncha feckin' dolts!" Grumb picks up the scrawniest of the group by the scruff of his neck, lurching over to the airlock. "Ainchoo never ate sardines? Evv'yone knows you canna open a can from the inside!" He slams his free hand onto the airlock controls, shoves the poor sap in the lock and spaces him. "TROYIT FROM OUT THEH" he shouts in the direction of the airlock door, before looking back to the group of would-be strongmen. "Barkin' pissed, 'ee must be," he chuckles, taking another big bite out of his cigar, "'e forgot his flippin' wrench!" Relevant stats are strength 41, with a +20 to lifting/machismo from Rippling Muscles. You could roll intimidate too, if this display of raw manliness alone isn't enough to put these shrimps in their place. Ps, I have no problem with helping out on the narrative-building side, as we're all just sort of making up this culture as we go along. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 17:58 on Feb 20, 2015 |
#
¿
Nov 8, 2014 00:40
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 11:23 |
|
|
Grumb Slanger kneads his ballsack thoughtfully. Everything seems to be going according to plan - His comrades seemed to have made it to the launch bay, and the droptruck was purring beautifully. Through the throngs of cursing, biting and moshing little ruffians his disgusting bulbous eyes manage to focus on the familiar fauxhawked potato head silhouette of his friend Barry, who was happily occupied stomping and spitting an a handful of the unluckier refugees. Grumb snorts a big wet loogie up into his throat, and tucks in his sack. He grits his teeth for takeoff, and slides on his retro 80's cyberhoodlum sunglasses. The world plunges into Gauss Flayer Green. --------- I made us a little cheat sheet, as I was having difficulty remembering which scrunt was which and I wanted to picture everything more vividly. I also put up our friends and enemies, and If you guys want I can add little one-sentence descriptors to them at some point. Maybe 20-30 words, something like that. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 23:40 on Nov 9, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 9, 2014 23:37
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, crash site Grumb Slanger emerges from the crash, achy and disoriented. Every part of his body hurt. Even having successfully broken his fall with a pile of jagged aluminum, he seems to have been bruised up pretty fiercely. Worse still, his nutsack was obliterated in the crash. With a single greasy tear, he brushes the dirt and blood off of his arms, and stretches his back. His back! It doesn't have a heavy machine gun strapped to it anymore! In a panic, he scampers back into the crumpled 'dropship', digging frantically through the debris - throwing dozens of badly damaged barrels, haversacks and wounded scrunts aside, he finally sees the familiar rusty glint of Betsy, his heavy stubber. He snatches it out of some poor shmuck's brand-new torso cavity, and clutches it greedily to his chest. Ain't no greedy torso going to take his Betsy away from him! Emerging once again from the wreckage, he sees the rest of the scrunts have begun to raise a hubbub. Through the commotion, he is slowly able to gather that there is a box of hostile 'umies wheeling this way, and that they'd be here soon! There is no part of that sentence Grumb likes. Humans are well known for their horrendous odor, and he's had his fill of metal boxes for the day. He starts trying to find a place to hide, when he notices Pernicious Kreb gesturing wildly in his direction. Kreb seems to be formulating some kind of elaborate trap, though what it has to do with dog skulls he hasn't the faintest idea. Grumb thinks hard. He's not used to elaborate concepts like misdirection and guile. Usually he just stares ominously at his problems until they either go away or start firing shots in his direction. He knows one thing for sure, though, that just a few minutes ago they were eating that wolf, and you just don't wear food. Not if you wanted to get anywhere in life. Nevertheless, Grumb listens intently to his teammates' plans - he scoffs at the thought of using scrunts as bait. Nobody would want to step out of their chimera to investigate a scrunt. Grumb knew that 'umies in boxes liked to stay in their boxes, especially if they felt threatened. They'd just blast us all. No, what humans wanted was wealth - if anything would get them out of their box it would be the promise of a reward. Scrambling through the wreckage for a big piece of aluminum, he crudely paints on it with the gibs of one of his fallen comrades. He props up the sign next to the big hole, in hopes of luring the humans out of their box.  Grumb's plan, in a nutshell, is to use the hole as a decoy - he wants to drop a smoke grenade or two into the hole to make it even more difficult to see what's inside, and for all of the noncombatant scrunts to go hide in/around the imperial buildings to the north. One squad of scrunt elites [who might that be] hides among the trees and bushes just west of the crater, and waits for the humans to get out of their box and investigate. At this time our combat squad emerges from hiding, kill the distracted humans and scramble into the chimera - In whichever order seems most appropriate. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 01:28 on Nov 11, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 11, 2014 01:14
|
|
|
Dude I don't have a melta. if I had a melta we could just shoot the chimera with that.
Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 03:59 on Oct 9, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Nov 11, 2014 05:02
|
|
|
I mean, I'm using scruntlogic here. If space treasure isn't gonna get those umies out of their box, nothing will. You DO want the chimera in working condition, don't you? Falling into a 20-meter-deep hole is gonna gently caress it up something fierce. that's a 65 foot drop. I don't know we would even be able to retrieve it with just a horde of scrunts. Plus, we've got grenades and a flamethrower. If they park close enough to the treeline, we can ambush them just as soon as the doors fly open. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 19:03 on Nov 11, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 11, 2014 18:56
|
|
|
Maybe I'm confused. Even if we block the road, how do we stop them from driving in one of the other, less suspicious directions? Are you proposing we block the road and every other route they might take? Idk if we even have that kind of time. Seems to me that if they drove out here to investigate something that fell from space, we should let them! Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 19:44 on Nov 11, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 11, 2014 19:41
|
|
|
why exactly are scrunts good bait, again? since the driver and gunner aren't going to get out of their seats anyways, our best chance for an ambush is to try and control where the others stop and get out. If we draw their attention to a hole they can't investigate from inside the box, it gives us the best chance to spring out of hiding and burn the crew before they have a chance to respond. We know they'll stop near the hole. If we leave a bunch of ugly mutants standing around, I don't see what incentive they have not to just shoot the mutants from the safety of their ride. They wouldn't have any reason to get out. A "treasure" sign might also be suspicious (although Grumb doesn't see it this way), but at least they have to get out of their ride to get a look at the crater. Especially if we drop a smoke grenade in there to obscure it / draw attention. All we need is a good shot at the crunchy interior and we've removed their advantage. That said, I'm not sure we are gonna be able to resolve the squabble easily, as I get the feeling we're all imagining this setup very differently. In a nutshell, Grumb thinks his idea is best but he's just going to vote with Sgt. Gumbo regardless because he considers Gumbo the alpha scrunt. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 23:02 on Nov 11, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 11, 2014 22:50
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, crash site Roight, you lot 'eard the commander! Grumb shouts in Dak Rugby's ear, Hup-two, all you scrivilians folla me to cuvva! Grumb yells to the noncombatants in his most authoritative voice. He starts marching towards the buildings to the north, and takes Betsy's safety off. You can never be too careful. Passing by the crater, he picks up his crude sign and hucks it into the bushes. Barry, yer idea was terrible! Where'd ya come up with a load a poo poo loik that? Barry looks up from behind the tree he was pooping on, confused. Wuzzat, Grumb? he says, wiping his butt on a clump of three-leaved plants nearby. He takes off after his cousin, scrambling to put his pantaloons back on. What kind of range do I have on my heavy stubber? Does it look like I could provide cover fire from the north, while still keeping an eye on the scrowd of scrivilians? Or would I have to come back and hide with the rest of the squad to have any chance at taking part in combat? Grumb feels some level of responsibility to keep the crowd safe [at least for the sake of having disposable bodies when we need them], but it's more important to him that he gets a taste of the action.
|
|
#
¿
Nov 11, 2014 23:52
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, crash site Grumb was all set to escort the scrunt civilians to the buildings and see to their safety, but as he was walking away he heard somebody mumbling about hallucinogen grenades, and there is absolutely no way in the world grumb is missing out on any event that involves hallucination grenades. He abruptly about-faces, and begins hustling back to the group, hollering Barry, you look like you 'ave control of this sitchyation! Keep up them dang' ol... good work, just... keep it on up thurr. Ym-hm!" He enthusiastically jogs back to the huddled group of scrunts as they explain the plan, and grabs his nearest dearest friend by the shoulders. 'Ere's two more vollenteer! Me an' my good friend Pernicious Kreb will help dis-track tha 'umies! He begins to carry Kreb off with Dak Rugby, keeping an extremely lazy eye on both of them. ------------------ I've got 41 strength, and a +20 to miscellaneous lifting due to my rippling muscles. Struggle all you want, pernicious kreb, but this is Happening. Dak rugby, I assume we're headed to the bushes around the crash site, in order to rustle the leaves and grunt menacingly, or some such? I figure if we present evidence that something's there without giving away that we're hostile mutants, we could probably get them to take a peek outside their transport. Then, once the other team ambushes the chimera, we can provide ranged support. Perhaps I could suppress the enemy squad with betsy to keep them off urok and groin. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 16:41 on Nov 14, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 14, 2014 06:28
|
|
|
PROBABLY SHOULD, WHAT A SHAME BWAHAHAHAHAhAA
|
|
#
¿
Nov 14, 2014 18:10
|
|
|
Tell that to pernicious kreb! he's been dead set on me being a bullet sponge all week.  Darers go first - that's scrunt code. I don't make the rules! Besides, what's a high strength score for if I can't pick people up and be a bully? Right now we're all so darned tactically efficient and just twists my scrunt. I'm sure he would bite me or something and worm his way out if FPS actually wanted to escape from my masculine embrace. Out of character, i am literally doing anything i can to advance the plot. We've been bickering since tuesday! Y'all rejected my plan, which as far as I know was the only plan that didn't involve using ourselves as bait, so I'm giving kreb what he wants. If he's so insistent on grumb getting himself killed then we can see how he likes a taste of his own medicine. IN character, if kreb doesn't want me physically abusing him then maybe he shouldn't be such a knob to someone who's bigger and stronger than he is. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 20:53 on Nov 14, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 14, 2014 20:04
|
|
|
See? That's the spirit. I drag him over to be bait, maybe he accidentally shoots me in the back during the scrap. It's scrall in good fun. FPS: We might be bait now, but once they've got a screaming burning hallucinating chimera crew behind them I seriously doubt we're going to be the center of attention. At that point, we're already skulking around the bushes, which is a fine place to be in a firefight. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 21:07 on Nov 14, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 14, 2014 21:02
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, hidden in the bushes Roight! Grumb whispers gleefully to his close friend Kreb. We's got their attenshin, now it's time for a propur scrap! The jets of greasy black flame light up his cybershades like a beautiful green sunrise as he begins to hustle westward through cover to a better vantage point. I'll make a double move, as I would like to spray lead into this group of hapless guardsmen at earliest opportunity. Does a double move mean I can't shoot? If not, I would like to proceed to open up on the panicked mass of humans. If it does prevent me from shooting, then you can bet your scrunt i'm going to shoot as soon as it's my turn again. These miserable fellows deserve a relatively quick death - they've clearly been through a lot already.
|
|
#
¿
Nov 15, 2014 00:27
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, gleefully popping out from behind the bushes The moment was finally here. Grumb had been scheming and skulking and waiting patiently for what felt like days now - he hobbles into position to get a good shot, and finally he seizes his opportunity to unload a barrage of lead upon the hapless, objectively innocent humans. Cackling with glee, the air fills with Betsy's trademark cry of RAKKATA RAKKATA RAKKATA as he honorably fires into their backs! The slugs make a satisfying series of splurches as they find purchase, and he becomes distracted with his elated hysteria. Firing wildly into the air and ground, he wastes his second volley completely. ------------------------ I'm taking two actions to fire two full-auto bursts into the squad of humans. I will give priority to those targets he can safely attack without putting Urok and Sgt Gumbo in danger, whichever they may be. Ballistic Skill +30 -10 Check: 19 vs 60 - 4 degrees of success! 11, 14, 11, 6 for damage. Ballistic Skill +30 -10 Check: 65 vs 60 - failure
|
|
#
¿
Nov 16, 2014 01:18
|
|
|
Honestly, guys, I kind of want this game to be a total tactical trainwreck. I don't know about y'all, but I would much rather die a scrunt than live as part of a cohesive, professional organization.
|
|
#
¿
Nov 16, 2014 22:02
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, in righteous pursuit Ah, feck, they's gettin' 'way! Grumb hisses as he scrambles out of the brambles, sustaining minor cuts and bruises from his heroic charge. He makes a break for the chimera, desperate to reach melee range before everybody is done choking each other. ---------- Grumb would like to make a full move action toward the chimera with the intention of hopping into the rear hatch. I'm not really sure if that calls for a skill roll, or anything, so you can roll one for me if it seems appropriate
|
|
#
¿
Nov 18, 2014 22:45
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, passenger compartment Grumb prepares to wrench open the hatch and pulp the driver with machine gun fire, when the whimpering piss-drenched human in the corner draws his eye. He points Betsy at the wretched thing, intent on putting it out of its misery - He begins to mutter, then scream incoherently as he tightens his grip around the trigger, and then... nothing. There, in the rumbling belly of the lightly charred, squealing chimera, something stays grumb's hand. The infantile huddled posture of this defenseless, wounded animal inspires something within him that he's never felt before - was it pity? Unfamiliar emotions course through grumb's underdeveloped brain, shattering his very perception of right and wrong. In his eagerness to build a new world, had grumb lost sight of what kind of world he wanted to create? He slings his gun back over his shoulder, tucking it under his hep-rat-fur mantle. An expression of rapt wonder on his face, grumb lifts up his cyberpunk sunglasses as he slowly takes a couple steps toward the human. AAAUUUUGGHHHHH!! the human yelps as it curls its mangled limbs tighter into a ball. It peers at him from behind its quivering hands. Grumbs expression of profound vacancy turns to one of terrifying compassion as he pats the human on its fractured shoulder. Thur, thurr, m'not herr ta hurrt'chah. Giv' ol dang ol uncle grumb dem... giv dem grumb dem dang ol, bring it in! Trapped in the most uncomfortable embrace of his short, horrifying existence, the human begins to strongly reconsider his life choices. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 06:43 on Nov 21, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Nov 21, 2014 03:38
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, Scrunt meeting Grumb slanger has spent the last couple of hours tending to his wounded new friend Barry. Not trusting the wellness of this innocent human to the devious clutches of Dak Rugby, Grumb has taken it upon himself to scavenge for medical supplies and fix his friend's bones and burns. He assembled a collection of stinky leaves, oily vines and brambles, which he has fashioned into a makeshift splint. He applies it to Barry's shattered arm [after cleaning the wound and carefully setting the bones, of course]. Meanwhile, a homemade herbal ointment of stinky leaves, oily vines and brambles has been slopped deep into the human's burns. He is a trembling mess, and seemingly unable to communicate clearly. A disgusting rash has begun to spread over his face and hands. His eyes dart rapidly around at the congregation of scrunts as he takes in the disturbing gathering from atop grumb's shoulder. His gaze falls finally upon the grenades strung down grumb's bandolier. ------------- A medicae roll, if i'm not mistaken, at 26 intelligence -20 for using an untrained skill : 99 vs a target of 6. If I understand that rules correctly, that's 9 degrees of failure. I'm sure Grumb has done a world of good here. ------------- Stirred by Scurrilous's impassioned speech, Grumb stands up from the crowd clapping uproariously. Barry's eyes bulge with pain at the sudden jolt upright, and he bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. "Thass a farkin' accredible idea, Scurr!" He barks, shoving his way through the crowd toward the chimera. "Who needs it, ta come home to a dag-gum stinkin' burrow every noight, eat the same old rats an fack the same old dang ol' stinkin' burrow? I'm abote had enough o' this crater any 'ow!" "Yeh! Tell 'im, Grumb!" Barry shouts approvingly from the crowd. Barry winces in pain as Grumb turns around to see Barry, and throws up a little through his clenched teeth. "Only, where is we gonna fine more of those wheelyboxes? Dey only sent us one" "You done dun don't needa worry none bout dat, Barry, we kin just ask my good friend Barry!" Grumb shouts in Barry's ear. He begins shaking the human around violently atop his shoulder to articulate the point. "'E came right out them box wiff the rest of 'em, and I reckon 'e knows whurr we dun kin get us some more! Right, Barry?" Barry swallows his vomit and yanks the pin out one of Grumb's frag grenades. He blacks out. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 05:48 on Dec 1, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 1, 2014 01:47
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, Bullet Time Grumb panics. His survival instinct kicks in, and his free hand grabs for his bandolier as his legs begin backpedaling wildly. But wait! Simultaneously, his newfound instinct to protect New Barry manifests. He had promised New Barry that he wouldn't let anybody hurt him, and that included New Barry! In a twisting scrambling panic, he spikes New Barry violently to the dirt as he attempts to wrench the bandolier from his chest. A panic ensues as the crowd of scrunts begin to shriek and recoil from the impending explosion. --------- Fate Point spent to save New Barry from himself Grumb will toss New Barry to [relative] safety while attempting to wrench the grenade from his belt, or failing that, the belt from his body, and toss it away from Himself/New Barry. I'll make an agility roll and a strength roll, but you can make your own if there's something else that makes more sense for this. If it comes down to it, Grumb will to prioritize saving New Barry over minimizing damage to himself. vs Agility 35 : 74. 4 degrees of failure. vs Strength 41 : . . . oh, crap. I'm using the 2d10 method with one of those tens dice, and I rolled a 1 and a 00. is that 100 or 1? is 100 "00 0"? how does that work? I'm pretty sure I either rolled a 100 or a 1. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 20:49 on Dec 1, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 1, 2014 20:39
|
|
|
i think my tens dice was 00 and my ones dice was 1. I have one of those fancy d10s that has 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 00. The other die is just 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0. So how do I roll 100 on a d% which consists of 2d10? Is it 00 + 0? That makes sense to me, because you can't roll 0 on a d%. Right?
|
|
#
¿
Dec 1, 2014 22:32
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, Scrunt meeting Grumb's world spins harshly, unapologetically. With a deep, mournful groan he lurches up from the muddy, bloody lump that broke his fall, briefly losing track of where he was. He blinks twice, focusing his eyes, then throws up on the bloody lump. The bloody lump also throws up. Grumb stands, cracking his back and neck loudly. "Roight! Grumb exclaims, pointing to the brightly burning mass of gnarled, twisted branches that stood where the tree once was. "So thass tha beacon!" The billowing orange of the smoke grenades mixed with the bluish smoke of the burning tree, illuminated by the unnatural yellow flame of the incendiary grenades as it curled high into the sky. "All us'ns wiff combat expeeriens load up in da van, we'll make for tha humie 'ovels, see if we kin scare up summore wheels. Resta yous should scavenge for eats and meats, we'll be ungry when we gets back. Everybody meet back at tha beacon come sunfall an' report back to tha sarge an' me." Pleased with himself, he reaches down to pull Barrius up from the mud. Barrius whimpers and coughs. "Barry, that wasn' very noice. Why don' we go get you cleaned up for da ride? You is gonna be our Naggivator, isn' that lovely? Wha' a good time we's gonna 'ave, you an' me. Wha' a dag-ol... grand time we's gonna 'ave." ------------ Grumb is going to look for a nearby puddle he can wash Barry in, and Old Barry will tag along jealously. For future reference, Old Barry is the one wearing the backpack with all of Grumb's extra miscellaneous equipment, as well as the mono truncheon and the scrunt pistol [Grumb lent him these weapons for self-defense, because Grumb never lets a Barry go to waste.] The beacon should burn as long as is narratively convenient, and hopefully remain a smoldering, crackling pile of visual confirmation to help us find our way home. In terms of loot, I could use some more grenades now that I've cooked all of mine off. Perhaps I could fashion a new bandolier for myself, as the old one was tied to my belt and now my belt just ain't sittin' right. Besides that, tractors sound like as scrunty a mode of transportation as any! I'm all for it. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 17:52 on Dec 3, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 3, 2014 17:38
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, Scrunt compartment Grumb shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "No." He clears his throat. "Barry, new frien', whyontcha tell us a little 'boutcherself? Are you from..." Grumb's eyes dart around shiftily. "Y'know, a place? Like, I mean, um, are you from, dang-ol, 'round here? I'll bet you have a wife 'n' some kids, yeah? Pretty likkle family?" Barrius begins to sweat visibly, his pulse racing as a throng of creepy little eyes stare back at him from every direction of the cramped personell cabin. Grumb coughs. "Um! I mean, what was your... chilehood loik? Small town? Lots of wheelyboxes I imagine? Where exactly would that be?" He smiles a snaggletoothed crocodile smile at Barrius, yellowed teeth glinting in the reddish blackish light of the cabin. --------------- Intimidate check : Strength 41 + 10 for foresight because Grumb has spent far more than 10 minutes staring scruntily at Barrius by this point. 44 vs 51. Success! I imagine Barrius is well and truly terrified by this point, if he has not given up on life entirely. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 22:00 on Dec 8, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 8, 2014 05:42
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, Scrunt compartment Grumb blinks, and absentmindedly pats his incompetently-tailored pockets. "Erm," he snorts uneasily, "Water. Water fer drinkin. Roight! It's in me other suit. Oi, Barry!". The two barries look up at him, and then to each other. "Me canteen! Pass 'er over!". Old Barry, happy to finally get some attention from his compatriot, whips Grumb's haversack around from his back, bashing Pernicious Kreb in the jaw absentmindedly. He digs through the rations and ammunition, eventually pulling out a stained waterskin. He tosses it to Grumb, who downs a mouthful and subsequently passes it to New Barry. New Barry takes a ravenous swig, briefly at ease, before coughing and spitting out his mouthful of moonshine. "...The hell? Don't you, uh... Don't you guys have any water or anything?" Grumb blinks vacantly. Barry looks around the cabin at the foul-smelling little creatures, some of which are now sniggering and pointing at him. He sighs, and takes another short swig of the moonshine. He coughs, and makes that face. (You know the one.) "poo poo's foul. No wonder you lot are so stunted." He takes another drink. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 05:00 on Dec 13, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 13, 2014 04:41
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, Scrunt compartment "Sshh!" Grumb hisses, putting his finger to his lips. "'E's finally gettin' a likkle shuteye and you 'as to wake 'im? We's never gettin 'im back down affer this." He pats Barry on the head gently to lull him back to sleep. Barry mutters something gutturally and spits up a little. "Sssh, dat's a good private, now jes lay yer 'ead down 'ere on dis here floor 'n' get some sleep." "Brathroom." Barry slurs, looking up at Grumb shakily before lurching forward and falling on his face. From the floor of the chimera he mutters "Hafta poo poo." Grumb looks up at Grimply, and at Urok. "Ye'd best be real quoight, dem place hurr might have dem guards 'n' 'larms round it." Barry coughs, and Grumb looks down at him. "Barry! 'Elp me drag Barry out the wheelybox so 'e can make 'is business." Old Barry nods grimly. The two scrunts grab New Barry by the shoulders [eliciting a plaintive groan] and carry him out the back-hatch to find a discrete place to go. ---------------- Grumb's going to try and keep an eye on Grimply and Urok without drawing too much attention [or hopefully eliciting any botched stealth rolls.] We'll drag Barrius out to poo poo behind a nearby tree, and try to get a sense of what's going on in this neon-green ghost town. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 00:34 on Dec 17, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 17, 2014 00:32
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, improvised restroom Grumb quietly gnaws on a cigar, keeping a focused-yet-lazy eye on his teammates as Barrius relieves himself painfully behind a gnarled bush. The private lets a loud gurgling noise out, and Barry bonks him on the head. "Ssh!" Barry glares at Barrius, who winces and tries to finish his business as quietly as possible. Barry squints, trying to remember who this rear end in a top hat was, and where he came from exactly. Everything before the wheelybox ride was starting to grow a little hazy. But he'd follow Grumb to the ends of the sector, and if his cousin needed him to play guard duty then that's what he'd do. Tick tock.
|
|
#
¿
Dec 18, 2014 17:51
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, improvised restroom Grumb spits his cigar out, surprised by Grimply's initiative. Fack! Did he miss the signal? Was that the signal? He breaks into a run as the chimera begins peeling toward the gate, and grabs onto the back door handle just as it's about to slip out of reach. "Barry! Keep an eye on Barry! Ah'll be roight back!" Grumb calls back to his friends behind him. "Okay," they reply. Grumb runs along behind the chimera, trying to hop up on the side. Unfortunately, as he glances back at his two compatriots he loses track of his footing and bangs his big toe on a large rock. "YEEEEEOOOWWWWWWWwwWwWwWwww" Grumb howls, smacking his face into the back of the chimera and falling to the ground. His grip firmly maintained on the door, the chimera drags him several yards before it smashes through the gate and comes screeching to a halt. Grumb wheezes ashmatically, his white knuckles and red knees aching and stinging in protest. With a pitiful groan he lurches to his feet - an instant later, the chimera hatch swings open, bashing him square in the teeth. A cloud of smoke and cursing billows from the compartment as the scrunt squad begins to pour out. --------------------------- Tactically, I am interested in covering Grimply and Urok as best I can. I haven't seen what's inside yet, but judging by their response it is hostile and I want to have the best field of fire that I can. If the chimera can be used as cover in this instance I'd be happy to do that, but use your best discretion. Grumb would like to shoots the bad people. Let me know if there's a reasonable amount of slapstick wounds I should be taking for that little performance. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 06:27 on Dec 19, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 19, 2014 02:50
|
|
|
i didn't realize chimera rear hatches opened downward when I made my last post so now i'm just gonna run with it Grumb Slanger, deep in cover Grumb's osteoporotic bones creak in protest as a clown-car-load of wheezing, disoriented scrunts scramble out the rear hatch, looking for violence. He gurgles incoherently as each stomping foot drives the chimera hatch again and again into his pitiful body. Finally, just as his retro-cyberpunk ganger shades begin to crack under the pressure, the stomping relents. Grumb gathers up all his strength and determination as he shakily pulls himself out from under the hatch. His muscles quiver as he pulls himself up to a kneeling position, his open abrasions stinging with dirt and ants. His world is agony, and he has never felt so fragile in all his life. Moments later, Murdelia darts up behind Grumb to use him as cover. She says "Arh! Grumb, Old Mate! What'srup with al'this?", firing her lasgun wildly in his ears. Grumb blinks, trying to remember where he was. "Whehh?" "Is thissa battle? Is any'n dead yet? Badly n'jured? Wher'ar'we? What's tha' smell? Wher's Barry?" Murdelia inquires unrelentingly, singing a small piece off his ear. At the mention of Barry, Grumb's maternal instinct kicks in. He had something to protect! Something he was responsible for. Imbued once more with purpose, he shakes himself out of the daze. "Blokay Roight! We're inna battle now! Grimply an' Urok needs reeinf- , needs re-infar-... dangol, backup!" Grumb whips Betsy out, takes aim at the nearest apparent mass of hostiles and unloads. He really hopes some of the bullets are hitting the enemy. ------------------------------------------ BS 40 + 10 Aim + 10 Short Range -10 Full Auto Burst = 50. I rolled a 70. 2 degrees of failure. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 07:08 on Dec 22, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 22, 2014 05:01
|
|
|
I would like to amend my action to include something about dodging out of the way as the chimera immediately tries to reverse over me. Grumb has had enough slapstick for one combat.
Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 04:06 on Oct 9, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Dec 22, 2014 17:34
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, exposed "Yeeee-haw! When ye get to hell, tell 'im Grumb Slanger sent ya!" Grumb shouts maniacally at squad two as they drop like flies. He prays nobody notices he hadn't managed to hit any of them. He turns his attention to the other humans as they begin to ready a salvo of anti-tank fire. Never letting his finger off the trigger, he directs Betsy's fury at the central mass of dangerous rocket men. This time his bullets find purchase as he observes the satisfying yelps of enemy combatants. Insecurely, Grumb thinks to himself Yeah, that'll show 'em. I'm good at bullets. I'm tha best around. Grumb's celebration is cut short when he suddenly notices the chimera isn't providing him cover anymore! It's begun an aggressive advance on the building. Thas the spirit Groin! Grumb thinks to himself as he begins to run after them. "C'mon Murdelia! They's leaving us be'ind! 'Ay Groin! Groin, wait fer meeeeee!" ------------------------------------------ One half-action to unload a full auto burst on the PDF squad BS 40 + 10 Short Range -10 Full Auto Burst = 40. I rolled a 5. 4 degrees of success! For damage, d10+4 = 6, 7, 5, 9 One half-action to scramble after the chimera a few meters. edit: wait, is this 3 or 4? I get one success for passing, and then an additional one for every ten I passed by? I can never remember. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 18:55 on Dec 24, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 24, 2014 18:38
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, courtyard area Grumb gapes in amazement at the terrifying switftness of the genestealer's stride, staring slack-jawed as he blazes away absentmindedly at the PDF troopers. When he sees the genestealer lunge for the chimera, however, he knows he has to take action. One look at those burly digging claws tells Grumb it's got nefarious designs, and they couldn't afford to lose their ride now. Not in this shitheap town. He swallows the lump in his throat and adjusts his course to intercept it. What is that horrible thing, he wonders, and how does it feel about lead? Like with most things, Grumb figures there's only one way to find out. He swivels hastily, bouncing another handful of slugs off the chimera's hull as he turns to face the monster. Its horrible tentacled maw instills a deep fear in Grumb - its glistening eyes twinkle like those of the hep-rats that haunt his dreams so persistently. Despite himself, Grumb covers his face with his hand, one frightened eye peering through his fingers as he fires erratically into the dirt. ---------------- Move action a few meters northeast to get a clear shot at the genestealer Attack action to unload a full auto burst on the genestealer vs BS 40 + 10 Short Range -10 Full Auto Burst -20 Running Target = target number 20. I rolled 49 - 3 degrees of failure. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 18:36 on Jan 6, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 6, 2015 06:25
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, farm yard Grumb fires away, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he hears the telltale squishy noises of good shooting. "Yeh-HAH!" grumb laughs, opening his eyes to see the fatal wounds he's inflicted on this terrible beast. Only then does he realize his bullets were merely chewing up the road ahead of him. "Tha feck?" Grumb whips his head around, searching for the source of the squishy noises. There! That monster's got the wheelybox! That thing... it's... "It's fackin' our wheels!" grumb bellows, stumbling around the corner of the vehicle as he fires his stubber wildly in the direction of the genestealer. It was one thing to kill a man, grumb thought, but to gently caress a man's ride? That... That was inexcusable. ------------------------------------------------------ Grumb continues to advance northeast to try and improve his shot as best he can. He attempts another full-auto burst at the genestealer, which I assume does not have his running bonus anymore. Attack action to unload a full auto burst on the genestealer vs BS 40 + 10 Short Range -10 Full Auto Burst = target number 40. I rolled 37 - Success! Betsy (Heavy Stubber - Range 100m, -/-/8, 1d10+4 I, pen3, clip 75, 2full reload) 1 hit - 13 damage
|
|
#
¿
Jan 9, 2015 18:42
|
|
|
Barrius Bostovovich, huddled behind the foliage Barrius peers up from his crouched position behind a gnarled tree. Having liberated solids and fluids from his body at both ends, he was starting to feel a little more coherent. The deafening gunfire and squealing of treads had finally come to a rest, and he could have sworn he heard someone talking to him. It was a faint, buzzing voice coming from somewhere in Barry's direction. "D'joo say somethin'?" Barrius slurs, grimacing nervously at his captor. Barry doesn't respond. The display of fearsome combat had hypnotized him utterly. His eyed glazed, he stares off into the distance muttering to himself breathlessly. "Grumbsem I good'ncuz. He'm gom be so perd'n 'e come see wham goodmjobmdo. Mm-hm." Barrius wipes his mouth with his mud-and-poo poo stained sleeve. He darts his eyes about, nervously taking in his surroundings. Grumb Slanger, the farm Grumb, visibly shaken, slowly relaxes his grip from his heavy machine gun as he nervously checks his surroundings for remaining hostiles. He's never seen anything take that kind of punishment and stay standing before. It shook his whole worldview. The bullets had not been enough to stop that monster from coupling with his car! The bullets had not been enough. What if the monster had been trying to couple with him? Or worse still, his gun? Then and there, Grumb resolved to find better bullets. Bullets strong enough to kill other bullets! And then, he'd find the bullets strong enough to kill those bullets! His mind reeled with the possibilities, until he was brought to his senses by a crackling radio signal. "Duuuudde... no waayyyyy... they KILLED it...." Grumb panics, clutching his machine gun tightly to his chest like a newborn baby. "Wuzzat, whozzere??" He whirls around, looking for the source of the noise. He eventually comes to the conclusion that it came from the chimera speaker. Taking a deep breath, he bellows his response back into the chimera speaker. "WHO ZAT THERE?" He squints angrily and, not finding a cigar in his pocket, grabs a clod of dirt and grass to anxiously chew on while he awaits a response. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 06:29 on Jan 14, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 13, 2015 21:16
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, near the chimera Grumb looks around at the huddle of scrunts collected by the chimera radio. He looks over to Gumbo, then to Groin, as the squats take in the offer they were just presented with. "Well... Well, 'at seems foin to me," grumb mutters, peering at the sargeant anxiously. Grumb raises his voice, speaking to the group. "Frankly, I don' much like much having it 'round no how. Dangol... good riddance! " He ejects his magazine emphatically, and begins waddling over in the direction of the abandoned building, reloading his stubber as he follows the ichor trail to the operating table. "'Ay Murdelia! Tha guys what's been talking to our stuff were askin' if we couuuwwwhhhhOOAHH WHAS' ALL THIS, THEN?" Grumb exclaims as he walks in on the hostage situation playing out in the ER. He freezes in his tracks, putting his hands up and beginning to back up slowly. "EVERYBODY STAY CALM," he shouts, tripping over a chair and firing several rounds wildly into the ceiling. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 18:55 on Jan 16, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 16, 2015 07:11
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, The OR The scrunt orderlies shriek and scatter as Grumb's machine gun fires off drat-near half a magazine before he's able to regain control. Scrunts knock over tables and chairs, accruing massive splinters and bruised shins in their struggle to escape the hostilities. Grumb, Murdelia and Arnika are left behind, blinking and coughing as plaster softly rains down upon them. Grumb grumbles, as he is oft wont to do, and lifts his head. Blood trickles down his nose. Sputtering, he is at last able to wheeze out his message. "Ay murdelia, the guys on tha radio wants that icky thing what you was gonna cut inta." He chokes momentarily, then spits out a tooth into his hand, which he pockets for later. "Says they wants to trade for it." Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 05:33 on Jan 19, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 19, 2015 01:08
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, the OR Grumb gulps, and scrambles to his feet. "Yes, s-S-s-Maam!" He looks around excitedly for the beam, not entirely understanding what was about to take place. Grumb's object permanence skills were already somewhat strained by the basic constructs of reality, and thus the concept of teleportation had always eluded him somewhat. In a sense, wasn't everything always teleporting? And yet, nothing ever teleported, either. It was all very confusing, existential stuff. But he knew a good deal when he saw one, and getting paid to kill somebody you already killed was just good business! His eyes light up, thinking about the reward. What would it be? What should it be? "GUNS!" he shouts. "Big guns! Ask'm'fr'm!" He starts bouncing his heels and pumping his fists, getting wicked pumped for guns. Murdelia glares at him, shooing him away with the universal "on the phone" gesture. He starts to turn away, then stops in his tracks. "AND BLUNTS!" He breaks into a run, calling back "AAAASSSSKKKKK FFffoorr bllluuuuuuuuunntss." "GUYS! We'se gon get that corpse tellippuh... we gon get it tella... dangol, gettin' paid! Whaddawe ask for!?" Grumb calls to his compatriots in the farmyard. "Urok! Sarge! Wot should we demand? He looks around for his other friends, and starts jogging back to the gates. "Barry, you back there? We're gon' get us some loot!" "Barry?" Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 06:20 on Jan 19, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 19, 2015 06:11
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, the workshop Dragging Barries by the hand, Grumb arrives back in the workshop just in time to see that Groin has already started licking all the good guns! "AAAARRGH!" He wails, diving onto the pile of pointy metal treasures. He grabs at the priceless relics with his grubby mitts, scowling and bleeding all over the place as he shouts "DON'T YOU DARE, GROIN, TAL'BOUT ALWAYS HE BE LICKIN' THEM GOOD LOOT, NEVER GON DUN LEFT NONE FOR US!" He finds a large gun-shaped object and latches onto it with both arms and legs, curling tightly into a ball around it and slumping to the ground. He opens one eye to find himself clutching a gently-used imperial autocannon, with the name "Clive" stenciled on it. "THIS IS MINE," he shouts, "NOBERDY TOUCHIT!" The barries look to each other nervously as Grumb scrambles to his feet and props the autocannon on his shoulder authoritatively. He glares at Groin, daring him to make a move. Groin doesn't even notice, enthralled as he is with the complex and nuanced flavor profile of his new shotgun. Grumb turns back to his companions. "We needs to get the resta'us ins tha buildings. Barry! Barry! Gather uppa resta these lollygaggin' scoundrels an' bring 'em indoors! Dese space mans are on they way, an I don't wanna get caught unnawehh, unna... Dangol, pants 'round our ankles! Serpized!" ------------------------ Grumb lays claim to the autocannon, and the three companions are making a collective effort to wrangle the scrunts indoors before the arrival of the space crew. If that requires some kind of roll, I would appreciate you making it. I'm phone posting and don't have my dice on me. What are the stats on this thing, by the way? Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 03:24 on Jan 27, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 27, 2015 01:55
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, the barn Grumb balks at the audacity of this newfound prisoner, demanding introductions as it is from a group of mighty jeebstealer killers such as ourselves. Granted, he's never heard of a jeebstealer before, but there was no question what the wizened old shrimp was referring to. That 'orrendous beast. Deep down he can still feel its piercing gaze, hungrily eying his... jeebs. Grumb shudders at the thought of his jeebs being taken by that hideous smooth-talking four armed whipfucker. No, Grumb had no intention of taking one of those things alive. It was a monster, and it deserved what it got. Grumb may not be the most savory character in the galaxy - he's been known to steal and to curse, and even on occasion to fabricate primitive lies. He's a stone-cold killer with a rude, lewd attitude and a police record that bordered on the incomprehensible. But he ain't never hosed a machine without its consent. A scrunt's gotta have standards. "We're the SLAM SECTOR!" Grumb bellows at Yurik. After a pregnant pause, a scabby confused little scruntling taps Grumb on the elbow. He leans up on his tiptoes, and whispers into Grumb's ear. "RIGHT! We're a Bunch of Scrunts! An we're LOOKING FOR THE SLAM SECTOR!" Grumb proudly decrees, puffing up his chest. "Right? Yeah. No, that soun'right. WE CAN'T FIND IT! THERE'S, uh... "There's done been a little ...un..clarity." For a moment, embarrassment flashes over Grumb's face as he realizes that he really doesn't have the best idea of who they were or what they were doing right now. "See, we were gonna do, like, a convoy? And we all was gon' drive there. I think the... sarge knows where it is? Right? No." He looks around at his fellow scrunts, and an air of confused shame passes over the group. No one speaks up. Grumb grows antsy, and decides to change the subject. "Well, who're YOU then? Huh!? Yer a Scrunt, th'sno hiding that! But I don' remember seeing you 'ntha Dropbox!" Grumb looks Yurik up and down suspiciously. "Nawmsayin' 'nuffa bout us, dangol... what're you doin' ere?"
|
|
#
¿
Jan 28, 2015 23:18
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, the barn Grumb squints at Yurik, gears visibly grinding as he slowly comes to the realization that he's been maligned. His swarthy-yet-jaundiced complexion begins to grow rosy as he clenches his teeth and fumes through the rest of Yurik's introduction. This one's a talker, Grumb could already tell. He had said something about being a lord master, but none of the other scrunts seem to be paying him any special deference. And what kind of lord would be found locked up in a barn? A cruddy one, no doubt. "I know wht'chou are," Grumb thought. "Yer a feckin' dweeb. One-a them poindocster types." Grumb had been a bully all his life, and he was pretty sure by now that he knew a dweeb when he saw one. All the signs were there: the weedy shoulders, the ten dollar words, and - was that a harrumph? This guy's a real piece of work. Grumb lays his autocannon down on the ground slowly, and takes a step toward Yurik. He leans forward, smoldering, and wordlessly grabs the colander from atop Yurik's head. "Grumb" He hocks a long, slow loogie up his throat, and expectorates it into the newcomer's hat. "Slanger." Grumb plops the thinking cap back on Yurik's dweeby head, and turns to the door. "I shoot th' big guns." He grabs the autocannon and drags it behind him as pushes his way back through the crowd of scrunts. "Barry! Barry! Le's go fine tha Sarge. Then maybe we c'n try out our new toy." Barry grabs Barrius by the neckline and yanks him away, gleefully envisioning the carnage a gun that size could wreak. Barrius pales considerably. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 09:02 on Jan 31, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Jan 31, 2015 08:59
|
|
|
Grumb Slanger, smoke break earlier Grumb and Barry stand outside the workshop, sharing a scliff and reminiscing about the good old days back on Fenksworld. Barry had begun to grow anxious amidst all the open space and fresh air, and Grumb was trying to calm his nerves with some quality lho. Grumb was certainly enthusiastic about the freedom and possibility of their exciting new world, but he couldn't deny that he missed his old haunt as well. There was something comforting about he grimy sprawl of a proper hive. A scrunt could just blend in to the wretched masses and disappear there. A scrunt didn't need to worry about the consequences of his actions - no matter what went down, there was always a disgusting crevice to squirm into. Another dank crawlspace to descend into. Out here it was different - there was something subtly terrifying about the open sky above him. How many of those twinkling bits were stars, and how many were starstations? Grumb couldn't tell. But still he knew those voyeuristic stoners hung ominously up there somewhere, peering down at them from behind the moon. It was an unsettling thought. They had some pretty good herb, though. A figure emerges from the chapel-complex, and strides over to the pair confidently. It's Sgt. Gumbo! Grumb salutes him enthusiastically, passing the blunt to Barry discretely behind his back. His face lights up as Gumbo pats him on the shoulder, but then it begins to sink as his sarge tells him he wants to keep an eye on the shrimp in the metal hat. Ever the professional, he grits his teeth and accepts his superior's mission with a grim nod. He keeps a stoic face until Gumbo proceeds past them into the warehouse, whereupon Grumb spits dejectedly into the dirt. "Well, les' get to it, then!" Grumb barks. "Din'ya hear the Sarge? We gotta keep some eyes on tha brain." He stares over at the yellow light issuing from the chapel window, chewing the inside of his cheek. Barry issues a low whine, and Grumb meets his gaze with sympathy. "Naw, i feel ya. I'm there with ya, nawmean, I dun wanna spend any more time wif'm than you do! 'Fonly there was anovvur way... "That's it! Barry, you still got mah nockulars? I've got n'idear." severan hours later Grumb is shaken to consciousness by his cousin, shivering and grumpy. "Grumb, it gettin' so late! I'm real tired, Grumb. I'm gon' fall asleepy soon." The two of them lay on a patchy old blanket atop the roof of the workshop, having perilously made their way to the top by ascending [and severely denting] some kind of air-conditioning unit that ran its way up the side of the building. Following their climb the unit had begun intermittently emitting clunky wheezing noises, which mingled with the bangs and dings of the mechaniscrunts beneath and the distant chorus of the crasshoppers in the fields. Grumb had been having a really annoying dream, but like most states of being it was still preferable to consciousness. "Dammit Barry, why'dja have to wake me?" "Sorry Grumb," Barry says, passing a worn pair of binoculars to him. "Well, 'ows about Yurik, is 'e looking at his maps agin?" "No, Grumb, I been watching 'im real good, Grumb. He's still pretend'n like he's asleep, but 'e won't fool us. Tik-tok! We ain't gon' be out-smarted by the likes-a him no sir." "Thatta boy. Dangol, keep up th'good work." Grumb closes his eyes and lays his head down, and his cousin pokes him in the ribs. "Grumb, you said you'd take watch after me!" Barry whines, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going back to sleep. Tell Barry to look after 'im." "I am Barry." "No, tell the uvver one. The weedy little big one. Y'know, New Barry. Tell him to take watch." "Oh, okay." . . . "Grumb?" "Yeah Barry?" "I thought Barry was with you." "WHAT? I thought Barry was with you!" "I am with me!" Barry cries, tears beginning to well up in his big goofy eyes. "Well, when was the last time you saw 'im!?" "I DONT KNOW! LIKE TWO DAYS AGO!!? LAS' TIME YOU TOLD ME TO FEED 'IM!" "BARRY YOU ARE TAKING TERRIBLE CARE OF OUR HOSTAGE FRIEND!" Grumb yells, shaking his cousin by the shoulders. "Well, GO! GO GET 'IM!" He shouts, sending Barry into a panic. Barry begins to climb down the corrugated metal walls as fast as he can, and falls several feet onto a distressingly large pile of bloody clothes and oily rags that had accumulated outside the workshop. He starts to take off in no particular direction, when Grumb shouts to him. "Barry, wait!" He pulls a shiny object out of his haversack, tossing it down to his cousin. "It's called a compass! It always points the way to go!" Barry clutches the device to his chest, sluggishly jogging away from the settlement. He had never meant to let his cousin down! But he would do anything to set things right. "Now, to keep an eye on this suspicious character," Grumb thought, gazing intently into the binoculars as he drifts off to sleep. --------------------------- Barry is taking off by himself while Grumb stays back to complete the mission. He carries my Scrunt rifle and Monotruncheon. In the morning Grumb intends to resume his watch, but he is an easily distracted scrunt, and it's likely he would also spend some time just studying the surrounding area with his binoculars. Maybe he might notice the creepy tunnel undermining the southern walls of the farm complex, and examine that! Who knows. Maybe his vigil should be represented as a Perception test @ 34 + 10 for peering scruntily? Idk! I rolled a d% and got 72. Take that how you will. edit: oh, and i guess if Yurik DOES do something suspicious, there is a slim chance Grumb might see it. Ignite Memories fucked around with this message at 04:54 on Feb 3, 2015 |
|
#
¿
Feb 3, 2015 04:37
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 11:23 |
|
|
Grumb Slanger, rapidly descending the workshop walls Grumb scrapes his hands in excitement as he drops onto the bloody oily ragpile outside the workshop. The distant noises of rabble and strained combustion had grown closer and closer until a sputtering, thirsty limousine finally came rolling into the complex. Every corner of it is covered with hop-ons, which are clearly causing immense stress on the wheels and frame of the automobile. Trailing behind it, a hastily-manufactured mobile forge comes scraping through, belching black fat-thick smoke and carrying with it the unmistakable smell of long pig. In the distance a collection of scrunts can be seen plodding along, following the deep grooves the forge has dug into the ground in its wake. Before it has even had a chance to stop, the doors pop open and a horde of the more fortunate scrunts [males and able-bodied adults, as is customary] come pouring out of the passenger compartment. The limo rattles on its suspension as its riders violently disembark, until finally the driver-side door opens and Sgt. Gumbo steps out. He ashes his cigar over the head of a passing scruntling and puffs on it satisfyingly as he watches the cloud of old dust and new scrunts disperse out into the farm complex. Seeing Grumb approach, he tosses the keys at his trusted compatriot. Grumb almost catches them the first time! The limousine continues to sputter along, gradually slowing until it love-taps the corner of the toolshed. "Sarge! Hey sarge, I did'choo said! I kep' a big ol' eye on that lordmaster for ya. Both eyes! Like a dangol' hawk, I was!" "Not now, Grumb, I've got a new mission for ya." Taken aback, Grumb swallows a lump out of his throat. "But... Eh made notes and evverthing."  "Firs' things firs', Grumb, tha Limo's outta gas. Gather up th'troops!" the sergeant says, waving his arm authoritatively. "Time's a wastin'!" Sgt. Gumbo puffs excitedly from his cigar as Grumb trundles away, anxiously chewing his homework. Grumb dejectedly begins to gather up combat-ready scrunts from their various stations, dragging his feet like a grumpy schoolboy. He even, in his dejected state, goes to fetch the well rested Yurik from his chapel study. "Might as well," he thinks, "'Ees the only one what knows all the maps anyhow." ---------------------------------- Grumb begins to collect the scrunt compatriots slowly, and gathers up his things for the raid. He eventually will gather up Barry2 before the mission begins, but I'm interested in giving someone else a chance interact with him first. The escapees were not a major concern of Grumb's, so if anyone else is interested in accusing or interrogating him about that they need to take the initiative.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 5, 2015 22:50
|
|