((Oh, I forgot to address jugerbro. Your application is fine, and I'll put your character into the system. As for joining the game in progress, if you're up to date on the storyline (as in, you understand what's currently going on,) we can have you join the crew during this mission. Add me on Steam and we'll talk about some things. Also, for everyone else, here's some stuff I should have posted a while back...))
[B]Player Character Stat Update[/B]
Abraxas
Insightfulness (All noncombat CH rolls twice as likely.)
Apothecary (May heal target for 50% HP without CH roll, base ATK 0.5 instead of 1.0)
HP: [B]79[/B]
ATK: 0.5
DEF: 5
Dio
Willpower (100HP instead of 50, immune to enemy CH crit rolls)
Impaler (3x CH for all rolls involving thrown objects, 2x DMG for all bladed weapons)
HP: 100
ATK: [B]1.5[/B]
DEF: 5
Frosty
Consecration (On receiving DMG, CH1/4 of x2 DMG applied to nearest character entity)
Ace (Triple CH for all rolls while flying a fighter craft)
HP: 50
ATK: [B]1.5[/B]
DEF: 5
Hariim
Willpower (100HP instead of 50, immune to enemy CH crit rolls)
Polycomputational (No CH roll required for hacking/interfacing with most computer systems)
HP: 100
ATK: [B]1.5[/B]
DEF: 5
Moloch
Blessing (Can grant a non-stacking, 2-turn, 2 level buff in a chosen Tech to a player character)
Malediction (Can apply a non-stacking, 3-turn status effect which deals 5 DMG per turn, starts with 0.5 ATK instead of 1.0)
HP: [B]63[/B]
ATK: 0.5
DEF: 7
[B]New Character Stat Update[/B]
Jason
Willpower (100HP instead of 50, immune to enemy CH crit rolls)
Assault (On rolling 8 DMG or above, gain second DMG roll. Can repeat.))
HP: 100
ATK: 1.0
DEF: 5
* Two unallocated stat points.
"We're friendly. Sympathizers." said Taylor, turning slightly so that they could see the armband on her right arm. "Just passing through." Hopefully that'd be all it'd take to convince them.
Valkyrie glanced at Taylor, then back at the two Peacekeepers. Now would not be a good place to get into a fight.
Taylor:
CH Estimate: 4/7
[B]Actual: 2[/B]
Roll Failed.
"Like hell you are," the tetrian growled. "Not a single gohva or ahra-phi in your unit, huh? You look like mercenaries to me."
"Thoda mek-hak!" the gohva Peacekeeper suddenly shouted, brandishing his weapon. "Mek-yab, tho intcapa?" He looked at the crew intently for an answer.
((Sega what are Johannes updated stats? You haven't put in my new stats with Maddox's weapon/armor upgrades and my point distribution))
[i]Johannes tightens his grip on his weapon, and flips his HUD into combat mode, ready to fight if necessary. He whispers sidelong to Taylor on the comms.[/i][b] "Ma'am... orders?"[/b]
Valkyrie spoke up this time. "You act like mercenaries can't have a cause that they support. And does it [I]really[/I] matter if we don't have a gohva or ahra-phi with us? Gonna resort to gunning down the people actually backing your asses up? We're here to help you, for fuck sake. We're Sympathizers. We're doing our fucking job." she barked, her voice sounding through the helmet she was wearing.
Taylor looked back at Valkyrie, a bit shocked at the outburst.
[i]Johannes pipes up as well.[/i][b] "Yeah! What's it matter who we are or where we came from? If we support your cause and come to fight alongside you, who gives a shit about anything else?"[/b][i] He then glances at the other peacekeeper shouting at them.[/i][b] "And yeah, we understand you. Our Gohva isn't the best but we made an effort to learn as much as we could."[/b]
Jag let the party move ahead of it, preferring to maintain a low profile.
It's last mark it left on the UGC had earned a rare, while unofficial, place in UGC jurisdiction if caught.
Even among the most brutal of their ranks, each Pacekeeper makes sure if possible to take their attackers alive.
UGC is one of the proven few of the many interstellar law keeping organizations to not use capital punishment.
Through, even with the considerable amount of constraint displayed and show in their ranks.
Jag would still earn it's place in font of an firing squad for what it's taken from them.
Nevertheless, Jag quickly oversaw the situation laying ahead of the party through Talyor's helm feed.
Hastily, Jag spent an massage translating the Gohva's words to it's squadmates at the font of the team.
[quote]
[Thoda mek-hak! Mek-yab, tho intcapa?] "You all are lying! ... Tell me, do you understand [me]?"[/quote]
Hariim meets up with the rest of the ground team in his full combat gear. Yuga didn't clear him for combat immediately, so he was delayed. But he is here now and ready to operate. He hangs back and watches the situation develop, and works some of his technical magic. The squad's HUDs are updated with topographical maps of the local area for a 500 meter radius, with false-color overlays of points of interest such as the group of Peacekeepers they are dealing with.
Hariim's suit is loaded with a bevy of sensors and processing units tied into his cybernetics and the computers on the Muramasa. These sensors provide real-time tactical data on the armor and weaponry of all individuals present in an area, as well as information as to what cover is viable considering what those weapons are capable of. He says over team comms: "Hariim reporting, sorry for being late."
(Hariim's suit: [url]http://imgur.com/KX9d22L[/url] )
((I'm going to edit my post a little to accommodate Jag's input, assuming this is all happening in real time like it would be, so that it's more fluid.))
Taylor received the message that Jag had sent her. Was this gohva the contact? She was only told of the one contact, not two. Thanks for the save, Jag.
Moloch removed his cowl as it was getting rather uncomfortable, and reclined his seat so his face was obscured by the darkness in his shuttle. He really didn't want anyone to see what he looked like underneath it. He pulled out his hookah and began to smoke it as he saw something going on within the starfighter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frosty overheard what was going on in his helmet radio and sprinted into his starfighter. It sounded like shit was about to go down. He fired up his engines and was waiting for the order to take off.
[B]Player Character Stat Update[/B]
Johannes
Willpower (100HP instead of 50, immune to enemy CH crit rolls)
Cryokinesis (Non-combat techniques based on ice do not require a roll, 2x CH for all ice-based combat rolls)
HP: 100
ATK: [B]1.75[/B] (Machinist)
DEF: 7 (Machinist)
((A new feature I was planning on rolling out for this chapter is group chance rolls, in which, if multiple characters are attempting to do the same thing, the odds add together into a single higher-probability roll. We'll see that in action here...))
Thanks to Jag's quick thinking, the gohva Peacekeeper's words were translated on the spot, and with Johannes' response, the tetrian passed along that the strangers did, in fact, understand the gohva language, lending credence to the idea that they were Sympathizers after all.
Valkyrie and Johannes each voiced their false outrage over being suspected of wrongdoing.
CH Estimate: 1/4 + 1/2 = 3/4
[B]Actual: 3[/B]
Roll Passed.
"Alright, alright," the tetrian relented. "You can't blame us for being on our toes. Our superiors have been up our asses all day and night about keeping watch for trouble, and you know, Sympathizers are usually locals. I guess... I guess the border patrol wouldn't have let you all through unless you were on the right side. Give me one second-" the tetrian said as he spoke into his radio, asking for confirmation that friendly mercenaries were working in the area. Meanwhile, the gohva eyed the whole team with uneasy suspicion as he lowered his gun.
Whatever the tetrian heard over the radio was satisfactory. "Alright, you're clear. From here on, if you get stopped by any more patrols, just tell them you're with the Vohmdash Halo contract and there shouldn't be any more confusion."
((Now what the fuck do we do? I can't shoot them NOW))
(( You still can, but it would be a very bad thing to do and that's bad. Don't be a bad. ))
[QUOTE] "Alright, you're clear. From here on, if you get stopped by any more patrols, just tell them you're with the Vohmdash Halo contract and there shouldn't be any more confusion."[/QUOTE]
"Roger that. Sorry for all this shit." said Taylor, before looking back at the others and motioning for them to move out. She had decided that this gohva wasn't the contact, and that the actual contact would still be at the factory ahead. She walked on, Valkyrie following behind her. Astro, the Cerberus drone, followed close behind them.
"Thanks for the translation, Jag. Avoid the patrols as best you can." she said, whispering it over team comms as they passed the two Peacekeepers.
Hariim advances along with Taylor, and strides up alongside her. "I've got my full battle rattle for this. I can range out effectively to about 800 meters, and have a full tactical and situ-awareness sensor and processor suite onboard my suit. Where d'ya want me boss?" He says quietly over private comms while optimizing the squad's information and CnC feeds for efficiency and speed.
[i]Johannes relaxes his grip on his rifle and sends a simple acknowledgement to Taylor as he follows with the group.[/i]
The crew shuffled onward around the corner into a paved lot where loading ramps lined the back of the building. There were trucks parked nearby with truly antiquated technology under the hood- diesel burning engines which were almost unchanged after centuries of use, brakes filled with asbestos, and so on. The only innovation to speak of consisted of a fold-out umbrella structure which was designed to protect the vehicle from the elements. The sight made their skin crawl as they imagined what the weather could do to their flesh.
One of the loading bay doors was open, and on closer inspection, a gohva technician was seated in the darkness within, smoking a cigarette with his gasmask pulled back. Upon seeing the crew, he flicked the butt into a bucket nearby and stood up, his face appearing warped - the bones within necrotized from the phosphorus - and he hurriedly covered it with a gasmask.
"Oy, you from TBC?" he croaked with his gravelly voice.
"Yes, we're from The Baker's Company. We're here to deliver some shipments of pies to this planet." Abraxas said, staring at the man.
The gohva stared dully at Abraxas for a moment. "Get the fuck outta here," he grumbled as he suddenly turned around, grabbed a hanging strap, and threw the garage-like door closed behind himself.
[quote]Checkered, this is Toothache. Your contractors are [I]shitty.[/I] Repeat, [I]shitty.[/I][/quote]
"Welp, Mission Failed." Abraxas said, pulling out a cigar and lighting it through his respirator filter. Shrugging
"Jackass." said Taylor bluntly, cutting Abraxas a look before knocking on the door. "Open up. My friend here was just trying to be funny. And he failed miserably." she said. Valkyrie was chuckling nearby. She thought it was funny actually.
Taylor glanced back at her, then at Hariim as she waited for the gohva's response. "Just keep an eye out for peacekeeper patrols and such." she said to Hariim via private comms.
"Will-do. Setting to wideband screening, and setting for materials-matching search patterns. I've connected with everybody's suit systems, so when I detect something the whole squad will know. You guys have full access to all the data I can pick up." He replies, setting his suit's sensors to the proper settings for advanced warning. He then sets his attentions to improving the security of their comms and local tactical networks.
After a moment of silence, the door came rattling open again. The musclebound alien pointed his thumb over his shoulder and walked away, inviting the crew to follow him. After they had entered the building, the dim lighting inside finally revealed the contents of the processing center. A haze of stale air hung around, and small particles collected on the lenses and shields of the away team's goggles and helmets.
[quote]There isn't time for any personality clashes on this job, Toothache.[/quote]
"Understood, Checkered. But all I've gotta do is work with 'em, I don't have to like 'em," the gohva replied into a radio transmitter as he reached a large pile of something under a tarp. He looked at Taylor. "Alright, so here it is-" he said as he pulled it back, revealing a stack of crates, each filled with military-use flares, "these are for aircraft and starfighters. We've been sending shipments regularly to the UGC's vehicle depot and handing them off; they take them the rest of the way by rail. You want to get into that yard right?"
A truck backed up to the loading bay next to the one the crew entered through.
"Everybody grab a crate. I can't move all this myself."
The crew did as it was told, grabbing and moving the charges into the empty cargo hold while Toothache rambled about the dangers involved with working around phosphorus, especially the fumes. "You're supposed to use masks inside the factory, but the dust builds up on the lenses, and the filters we have get clogged... they say we're breathing too much and too hard, sucking it up like vacuums. I don't know if it makes a bit o' difference, all I know is that you get two filters a month and if you clog both of 'em up then the next replacement comes out of your paycheck. So I've gotta ask myself whether I wanna keep my health or raise three kids, ya know? And before I know it I'm fallin' apart in the face and my wife can't look at me no more, and now I got no health and no kids to take care of. True story.
"So what's a guy like me to do with all this free time 'cept bein' angry all the time? And I got nothin' else to do but shovel phosphorus and think about how my kids are gonna grow up with no dad and fall in doin' some other shit job that's gonna break their bodies down and give 'em cancer or some shit like that. It breaks my heart. It really does. And no one out there is gonna help us. The whole galaxy knows we're too slow to play in the big leagues; hell, I didn't even learn how to read and write 'til I was thirty-six and I was trying my goddamn hardest, I swear. So it doesn't matter; the sanghvi, the kanads, Yoo-Gee-Cee... they're all just gonna keep taking our steel and our chemicals and they're never going to fix a damned thing. Then you all come along and give me shit about a pie delivery. It ain't funny, never was. But I've got a theory-"
"What's that?" Taylor asked.
"I think that if this planet were to be [I]ruined,[/I] and I mean torched-to-the-ground, 'nothing-ever-gonna-live-on-it-again' status, I think that'll be the ticket to save us gohva. Get a future for my kids."
"How?"
"Evacuations. Ain't it obvious? The gohva on Sirgas are doin' fine. The ahra-phi on Voyak are just as fucked up as we are. It's the planet that's the problem. It's the planet that's killin' us. So why not kill [I]it[/I] first? It's our dirty economy that's the problem. I don't know how they do it, how the steel gets sold and resold and remade from beams to ships to ovens and clocks and back into ships again, but I get that all of it has to come outa the ground before anything else, and no matter what kind o' suffering goes on, the galaxy seems just peachy-keen on doin' the diggin' and smelting right here on Voyak, along side every other dirty job that their clean little hands can't be bothered with no-more. We're slaves to the goddamn economy. I can feel it, even if I don't know how they really do it. It's like a weight around our ankles while we try to swim ashore.
"I don't care if I never work another job, or ever see another credit in my lifetime. Don't care if I'm homeless and have to sleep in the rain- all I want is to sit my ass down on one o' them 'green planets.' I wanna know what Voyak used to be. What my ancestors coulda made this place into."
By the time Toothache was finished with his rant, the truck had been loaded for several minutes. Several of the crewmembers were transfixed, however, on the gohva's charged tirade. When he finally noticed this, he was embarrassed and briefly covered his face. He removed his hand, revealing eyes filled with defiant tears. "What're you doin'? Get going already!" he blasted as the crew loaded into the truck. "And don't let 'em shoot at you before you get there; this shit will catch fire like nothin' else!"
As the crew pulled away, there was a flash of light in the dark, a lit cigarette, that disappeared moments before the door slid closed once more.
((That's it for tonight, I'm going to bed.))
[i]Johannes was quiet throughout the rant, but as the truck pulled away, he commented to the team.[/i][b] "That was awfully insightful for someone who's so adamant he's slow. I feel kinda bad, now. Not like, real bad, but like the kind of bad where you see a kid drop his ice cream and start crying but your ice cream is fine and you keep eating it instead of giving the kid yours. Y'know?"[/b]
Amy shrugged. "It's sad, yes. Nothing we can do for him tho. The galaxy is a bitch like that."
[QUOTE]"It's sad, yes. Nothing we can do for him tho. The galaxy is a bitch like that."[/QUOTE]
"Yeeep." said Valkyrie, propping her legs on the back of the Cerberus drone in front of her. Taylor shifted a bit in her seat, and rested her LMG between her knees.
Maddox tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while driving towards the facility. The environment outside was as eerie as it could get, everything looked dead.
He glanced towards the passenger seat where Hariim was sitting. "Tell me, you've ever seen a place like this? A planet which is sick and slowly dying."
Maddox opened up the squad comms. "Five minutes out. Make sure all those crates and my backpack are stowed in solid, otherwise we're gonna create a 750 meter deep crater in the road."
Markus sat on one of the fold down seats from the walls and watched the cargo, which was securely fastened with heavy duty ropes. He let out a deep grunt and looked at Taylor.
"Well this's just peachy, innit? I thought we were gonna discreetly deliver a few charges to disable some orbital whatcha call it, not ride 'round in a bloody a-class firebomb."
This is getting boring, thought Moloch. As he sat in his seat, staring and glaring, he was thinking to himself.
This certainly could not be him. There was no way he would ever work with humans, let alone a mercenary outfit, or what appeared to be one at least. He hated the idea of fighting for money, and hated those who do so even more.
But he was still curious. Perhaps these people stole it? Or maybe he thought wrong originally and this starfighter was something entirely different.
Maybe, he ought to get a closer look.
He put on an old looking gas mask which had its lenses blacked out and a pair of flight gloves to protect him from the harsh environment, pulled up his hood which was tucked inside his coat, grabbed his walking stick and sawn-off, and creeped towards the Muramasa.
Time to find out whether his suspicions were right, or if he had been hitting the hookah too hard.
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