Andreyich

Mass Effect: Caelestis

Hmmm, would a vorcha flamer fall under abilities, equipment, or both?

Mass Effect: Caelestis

Aren't elcor great combatants mounting heavy armour and weapons on their shoulders?

Mass Effect: Caelestis

Sadistic vorcha hired muscle, reporting for duty

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

The Confessor's moustache drooped as Alexa spoke, before smiling kindly as she finished. "Oh how endearing of you to suggest such, dearest Sister. Alas, I doubt it will be. I am but a humble Confessor. I would not deign to ask for such and even if indeed I were to do so I am all but certain the request would be rejected. Worry not, Sister. I know that between the three of you not a hereitc shall be left standing and should the foe be alerted to you, I shall be ready to dispense holy justice of my own." Horacio promised, racking the slide of his shotgun demonstratively. Of course, though a powerful symbolic gesture he made sure to pick the fallen shell off of the ground.

He made the sign of the Emperor as the Sisters went off to do their duty, before kneeling down in silent prayer.No doubt as the time passed that they were killing many of the foe, and oh how much Horacio wished e could be amongst his comrades. It wasn't cowardice that kept him here oh no, he was more than happy to die in the line of duty. Rather he was a liability and he would indeed benefit from Alexa's suggestion, despite the unlikelihood it would ever come through for him. In his studies he had learned of some tribes in feral worlds that ritually threw their most elderly and unproductive off of cliffs such that they could live more efficiently in the service of the Emperor, and the grim thought came upon him that he would soon be approaching eligibility for this alien, but strangely logical and utilitarian practice.

He was brought out of his musings however as he overheard loud voices, and possessing a definite masculinity that indicated they were not the Cleric's treasured Sisters. They were angry, and all but certainly they were not the sort who would be kind to the followers of the Emperor. The thought that his absence could have these men strike into the rear of the trio and he would be at fault for having stayed behind made his heart beat dangerously and he had to practice a few breathing exercises to restore himself to a healthy state. His shotgun would be of no use hear, and thus he stowed it away.

Peaking around at the men he grimaced. They were two and he was one. He had the element of surprise, but he did not go along with the Sisters precisely because he knew he would have difficulty maintaining it. What then, could he do? Well, he had knives had he not? He drew two, and tested their balance. He could throw one with some semblance of accuracy, and not two at once. After he hit one of the men the second would be alerted and rather likely to duck for cover before the projectile hit him. He would have to fight one hand-to-hand, that much was apparent.

He wasted no time and rushed out throwing one of the blades at a squatting heretic. Much to the Priest's disappointment it didn't cut into the man, rather just striking the skull of the bastard with a loud bonk. It was enough to at least temporarily incapacitate the man as the Confessor went to stab his comrade. The man however was young and clearly skilled, reacting just in time to catch Horacio by the wrist and stave off the attack. The worrying realization dawned on Horacio that the man was much stronger than him as slowly his blade-bearing hand was overpowered and the point turned on its very holder, slowly pushed back towards Horacio's flesh. The man had more skill, more energy, more strength. But Horacio knew he had faith, and experience on his side. As slowly blood began to be drawn, he spat in the man's eyes before striking him in the head with his own. He ignored the tremendous pain as the knife went all the way into him and he ignored it again as he removed it before sinking it into the enemy's skull. The encounter had almost ended Mazzini's life and had felt like eternity, but in truth it was no more than six seconds in total.

The man hadn't been paying attention, and he knew he might have screamed amidst the violence. He hoped it was not the case, but it was a dangerous possibility.

War Never Changes 2 : A Post Nuclear Nation Roleplay

Denver Reclamation Force

Breathe. All he had to do now was breathe. Next on the list was think. Where could he go? Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, the machines were coming. Oh the Legionnaires had put up a good fight, even busted a few, but it wasn’t enough. They were as durable as deathclaws and just as fierce, but without backing down if gravely injured and yet the Legionnaires and Frumentarii raised their weapons and struck back with their own feoricty. With that said, of the men that didn’t run when realizing the ineffectiveness of their resistance was left mincemeat.

The Frumentarius’s train of thought was broken when he heard the clank of metal robots. CRB-S and Assaultrons, the technician had called them. He knew it was pointless, but nevertheless he rose from his slump against the wall and ran down the hallway. Somehow it was more frightening that they were chasing him, rather than gunning him down as he ran. Trying to slow down so he could turn the corner the man managed to do the ninety degree bend, but from fear and darkness he tripped. Lars turned over to at least look his metallic killer in the eye, but instead they simply stood at the threshold to cross the intersection of hallways.

L̕͜oc̵͜ą́̕ti͝o̵͡ń͢ Se̛cu͡͡͠ŗ͢͏e̴͢.̧
̕͢
R͠eg̀͟ŕo̶͢ư̶ṕ͜i̸͠n̕҉͢g.̡

With that they turned and went back from whence they came. Lars couldn’t believe it, but he wasn’t going to waste any time being astounded. He had lived and he would make this miraculous life count. He was going to report everything that happened - with suitable embellishment of course - and perhaps for his heroic performance could even find himself promoted with a great story to accompany his career. Whatever the Legion had found in the underground of Denver was far, far more than just a cyberdog factory, it was something frighteningly intelligent, (if apparently inept in a few respects) and the scientists had more than overestimated themselves. For their arrogance a good chunk were dead.

No matter. They could be replaced; perhaps Lars could even volunteer for the mission to kidnap their replacements.

Feud of Kings characters and locations

The Empire of Polydius

Polydius is an ancient Empire, often claimed to be the oldest still standing with a good possibility of this claim being valid. It is also massive, being a state with climates ranging from a colder temperate land in the borders with Winthrope to jungles and deserts in the South. It diversity is far from only geographic however, for within the bounds of the Empire are perhaps hundreds of cultures and ethnicity all of whom are Polydian citizens. It is for this reason there is a distinction between Polydians - any person living under the Empire’s benevolence - and Polydii: the ethnicity and accompanying culture that first founded the Empire long ago.

It is a fairly wealthy place by virtue of a few banal facts: excellent roads and associated infrastructure, great access to the sea, and its size allowing it to produce and export a wide variety of goods while not necessarily lacking any to create a deficit should they not wish to import them.

The Empire has grown rather arrogant in recent years, many of its leadership believing it is too big to fail. While there is a grain of truth in that statement, more and more people see the danger in resting on such a belief and as such it seeks to undertake great efforts in insuring its legacy will not fall in the future.

After all, any Emperor who causes the great state to fall will have to shoulder the weight of hundreds of predecessors looking down upon him from the heavens. The Imperial mandate has an ancient tradition that is brought by divine right, and with this synthesis of Church and state fear works rather well in making the monarch do well for his country. The people of Polydius are likewise fairly faithful, Monks, Nuns, and Priests all given a very high status in the lands. Their faith is tentatively monotheistic, with a greater Allfather deity that has many Saints below him often originally of smaller religions absorbed into the new pantheon. This is the modus operandi for integration of new cultures in the Empire, whereupon either by conquest or confederation the civilizations that join them assimilate into the greater Imperial culture while still retaining their unique identities and customs.

This is a process found necessary over the years in Polydius, for without it the people either get indignant of their culture’s erasure or nationalism grows rampant without a stern hand; the process of soft assimilation is currently found to be the golden mean. This has been tried and tested on many peoples of course, Polydius ever expanding, some golden ages having the inclusion of a new culture into the Empire’s sphere of influence every year. This has lead to an interesting mode of governance for eventually every single region and people of Polydius want representation in the government. As such, a sort of senate of nobles was formed long ago such that the Emperor would be forced to appease them all lest they excercise their votes in governance against him. Though over the years the formal power of the senate has been reduced with many new laws, the factual power grew over the years as the families in the seats amassed wealth and power.

This mess of a state and had certainly grown overstretched over the years and as barbarous tribes struck the borders and people grew lax, it seemed a dark age loomed in the interim after the death of the previous heirless Emperor Nikos Thadian. A very distant relative was eventually confirmed into power, and the then young Ioannis brought a new age of prosperity to the Empire. Ancient arts and crafts were discovered and repurposed for the modern day. Barbarian tribes were stamped out, and many internal conflicts were resolved. But Ioannis was most certainly an ambitious man too. He wanted to create not only a stronger Empire, but one that would also be ruled by his dynasty which he saw as the only one fit to rule. The new wealth and safety of the Empire has been contrasted by many repressions and strikes against his detractors. Though for now apparently more than competent he has covered government seats of office with the arses of friends and family. As his boldness grew, the man seemingly went for a Magnum Opus; bringing the King of Winthrope in the North to submission with some claiming that he wants to outright annex the land in the future. Only time will however, for with that one arrives at the modern day of the Empire of Polydius.

Alright then, I made the above for you viewing pleasure. Shall I make the IC PM or would you like the pleasure?

All for One for All! | A WHFB Adventure [APPLY]

Having mentioned Karuhar’s name once, Hugo felt it prudent he mention it again as well as that of Galadred. He read that elves were far more adept than humans in reading expressions, emotions, and all the rest of the business that let one person discern the humours of another. There was very little time for the party was about to exit the woods into open fields were chances that in the distance help would be more than visible, or at least a place where they could see the enemy coming.

“You been to Marienburg before, Asur?” Hugo asked of the two elves. What information he tried to convey to them through subtle gesticulation and emoting would be the last warning of the incoming attack. Hugo had been to these woods many times before and knew them like the fingers on his hands but somehow he had failed for so long to see what was happening, and shame overwhelmed him far more than fear as it came out.

“Kla-dza karu wotu!” came the strange bray noise from the woods as an arrow flew to cleave Galadred's ear in half, but it came dangerously close to his eyes. A minotaur uprooted a smaller tree by the great one he used to hide and after swinging it left Jehan without a head, the Knight's frightened horse bolting in fear. Several Gors rushed out from the right side of the cart, whilst a duo of ungors ahead rushed out to try and intercept that cart by jabbing its horses with their spears. After a half second trying to reign them in, Hugo realized that the two horses pulling the cart were likewise bolting and thus they were now only a liability to himself and his comrades.

“Off the cart, off the cart, now!” He cried, only reaching under his seat to grab his crossbow before jumping into the dirt with a roll. Barely dodging a tuskgor that ran to gore him, the nobleman cut the thing’s thin tail off with a slice of his rapier as a very small, and hollow victory. The Hochlander Elric ran off likely far too frightened by the scenario and thus only Erwin and the two Ulthuani were left with Hugo against rather many beastmen. It would not be an easy fight, that much was for sure.

War Never Changes 2 : A Post Nuclear Nation Roleplay

Legio Mexicanus

Aurelius was a man who had seen thousands die and by his own hands had slain somewhere around a hundred. But these new warriors of Vulpes weren’t of his sort. He wasn’t about to pretend that he was a particularly honourable warrior, nor a moral one, but the methodical terror campaigns of the Frumentarii were something else. In their reports they described how they created and then sharpened splinters in latrines that the Mexican forces dug. However they left open boxes of ammunition such that dirt would get into bullets which the Corporals in charge of would be far too fearful to report to their superiors when discovering their “error”. They carefully opened and then reduced the hourglasses used by the cooks to measure time such that meats were just enough undercooked to insure dysentery. Spectacles of officers were removed and replaced with that of others, while rotten grains were dropped into the water supply. They went so far as to tamper with the tinderboxes and matches of the army to insure fires couldn’t be started in a timely manner and to cut holes in socks and other garments they carried. When transcribed, there were dozens of pages listing every single action they had taken to weaken the foe, and looking at their encampment it seemed that over time the efforts of the Agents had truly paid dividends.

Officer and Conscript alike looked awful. They were sweaty and pale with bags under their eyes, their otherwise perfectly drilled manuals of arms were failing them with only every other rifle having its bayonet, sling or optics properly mounted. Sidearm holsters were dangling open, shoes were loose, helmets and body armour not strapped in. They would certainly be easy pickings from this moment on even with a traditional frontal charge in hopes of hand to hand combat that the Legion of yore espoused. But no, today a different strategy would be used. A false camp was set up for the foe’s scouts to find that had just enough men left behind to give the impression it was populated, a camp largely consisting of unarmed men impressed from the previous battles with the Mexicans.

The rest of the men had a great feast to celebrate their victory along with entertainments and a good sleep, and having been well rested went on a long march to strike the foe from their far flank in the night together with the Frumentarii.

Night dawned, and the first screams came long before the sounds of gunfire. As soon as it began the Mexican camp was illuminated with hundreds of flares that made the foe very bright, while blinding them to the surrounding dark. Of course, the Legionnaires the encircle the camp were illuminated by the muzzle flashes of their rifles but this was nothing compared to the persistent shine of the flares. It was a massacre even after the first few volleys of the Legionnaire breechloaders, but it became a far bloodier one when bayonets were mounted and they charged from all sides.

The victory was short, and something about it didn’t feel normal. But it was a victory nevertheless. Aurelius estimated that they’d be able to reach and siege the two cities before the next force came to strike him down. He knew the next one would be a much tougher one of course, given the first thought they were mere tribals and this one was only a partial escalation.

But that would be later. For now the Phoenician enjoyed the plunder and celebrated with his men. Rather fine artillery pieces were towed over by horses that Aurelius would keep for himself, while the rifles would be sent North for the Emperor to see and redistribute accordingly.

Oh, he could just smell the prized cities!

---

The Emperor's Tent

Vulpes drummed his fingers. The reach of the Legion was growing in all directions except the West, where the Bear was fortifying its positions. There was a slight silver lining in this for it meant that the NCR
still saw the Legion as a credible threat to pour in millions of dollars of taxpayer money in defending against, rather than believing they could simply march to Phoenix and Two Sun unimpeded. But then again, was this a silver lining? Regardless of what it was, the Frumentarii would exploit it.

“I propose several points of action my Lord. Trying to hinder or destroy the project of NCR fortifications is futile, we Agents cannot compete with their factories, they produce more than we destroy and we’ll thus only create jobs and better counter-espionage measures among them if anything. Instead I suggest that first we attack the long-term capabilities of this new defence. Tamper with stores of ammunition that might not see action for years but that will be ever so devastating when we finally strike. Dilute their cement mixes and make cracks in the foundations of their pillboxes such that they might crumble from a strike to their core. Map out the minefields, dull the rolls of barbed wire, so on and so forth. Next I propose to create discourse against this project only when it is far too late to cancel it. We must create a narrative amongst their citizenry that it is a waste of money because the Legion is no longer a threat, a withered foe. Alternatively that it is a weakened foe that it is best to crush now, and that thus the money should have been invested into upgrading the troops and sending an expeditionary force to the East. These opposing views must be made amplified and be at the core of press reporting, but must importantly both must state that the project was a waste of funds. At least for now we must use our influence to make their papers center around stomping out the Eighties that yet stand left they amass in number with vengeance in mind. With that said my beloved Emperor, I am not a commander of the Legion but rather of the Frumentarii. However I must recall the example of a Maginot line in Fra-”

“Yes, excellent Lord Dolos. You’ve spoken to me of that before but it is not yet time. I would like to hear from the Lord of Colorado now.”

The man was almost shaking with excitement, and he almost squealed as the Emperor called upon him.

“Emperor Vulpes, the bounties I have found, they have exceeded all expectations.”

“Many supplies untouched by prospectors?”

“No, Lord. Well, yes, but they're but a footnote. The dogs of the city? They were products of machinery functioning from before the war. It churns out cyberdogs who inevitably mate and have puppies of their own. Their visciousness? A product of the fact the cyberdogs being made are programmed to be aggressive guard dogs, and that this trait is only amplified amongst their feral puppies. However my Lord, if we scoop up these cyberdogs when they are young their aggression may be tamed, and they may be socialized to be our own cybernetic warriors. Think of it my Lord, before our dogs were at most used in small shock actions against unprepared foes or as cannon fodder, occasionally also being able to crush some tribes that ordinary Legionnaires might struggle against. But these? Bullets will often bounce off of their steel hides and even when they pierce they will often get stuck before hitting anything vital; even if they do, they are still far mightier in flesh than the mongrels we often have to make do with. But that is not all my Lord.”

Vulpes was skeptical, but he beckoned the man to continue.

“The terminals to control this process are still online. Though none of the men at the site are sufficiently advanced in technical works to truly work with the devices, it was clear that the manufacturing of the dogs is still controllable. We may control for size, behaviour, we can even control for appearance and coats of fur; blond dogs for the deserts, black for the forests. Indeed, we can even have commands that they answer to pre-programmed. A few of the current specimens were even delivered for you to review!”

Though still apprehensive, the expression of the Caesar changed rather quickly to reflect that he was indeed impressed. Nodding to the man, a few cages were brought that contained two howling beasts. They frother at the mouth, and a secondary set of steel bars had to be built in for they had gnawed at the previous ones with such violence they had bent that they could almost escape. To the shock of the Praetorians who dove at the man the Lord of Colorado drew a silenced pistol and fired a shot at the animal. He did it just in time before they tackled him to the ground for the bullet to ricochet off of its breast and then off of a Praetorian’s shoulder.

Vulpes stood and walked over to pick up the flattened piece of copper and examined it. “.45. Subsonic and thus low velocity of course, but nevertheless impressive. I shall give you half of all technicians we have that aren’t needed for other urgent matters, the paper-pushers shall organize this of course.”

Vulpes waved for the Praetorians to let him go, before sitting up his throne again. The Governor stood up and brushed himself off, before inhaling to gain some confidence.

“I’d like all of them, my Lord. I understand something else may come up but please. From the looks of it this may not be the only such manufactorum.”

The Emperor took off his sunglasses, wiping them before putting them on an armrest. He motioned for Dolos and a few other advisers to walk over with a table, and after a whisper they rolled out some maps across it.

Eventually, Caesar threw his arms up in the air. “A simple answer, if you please.” he stated, no longer in a whisper. “What is actually possible.”

Dolos stepped back, shaking his head. “My Lord, I was stationed up in Salt Lake city when the bombs dropped. Its possible from what I remember. They definitely had a lot of projects going on there if memory serves right. But you’re not going to get some sort of hail mary for a free industrial revolution.”

“That’s not the point!” Screamed the Lord of Colorado, whimpering at the gazes he received for this loss of composure. Nevertheless he rallied magnificently. “Yes, this industry will not equip armies, it will not create cities, perhaps only one out of a thousand of our citizens will feel its effects. But it will create elite warriors, it will create luxuries, it will generate value that none of our artisans and sporadic attempts at factories will be able to for perhaps a century.”

After a great deal of whispering, Vulpes once more donned his sunglasses and smiled. “You can have half of what is left after the first half of technicians is taken. We will also send other civilian specialists to make proper living quarters in the locales and better investigate this phenomena of yet operational prewar machines.”

Raising his hand to stifle a celebratory dance from the Governor, the Emperor turned to the trio of Picus, Canyon Runner, and Karl. “Tell me about progress regarding our potential allies. I have high hopes.”

All for One for All! | A WHFB Adventure [APPLY]

Clop-clop-clop-clop-clop….

The noise of the hooves was the only thing to punctuate the carts movement. Nuln was rather far from Marienburg and more and more Hugo was finding it that he was wishing their trip had started in the Altdorf chapter house, even if Nuln was cozier to the man. Everyone would take turns at the reins, Jehan’s horse tied along to go after the cart when the Knight might feel the need to rest. The group would have had only a few hours to sleep after their short meeting and for them to end up being anything more than groggy would be a miracle. More and more the quietness of the group was starting to get to him, Hugo noticed. Everyone kept to themselves, and it was… unnerving. Not only that but he also saw it as unproductive given a team that spoke and bantered with one another was better able to cooperate in a hardy situation.

This had to be rectified.

Hugo looked to his side at Sauer. Cultists of Morr would in the mental image of most be thin, bony men, mirroring their obsession. But Erwin looked more sinewy than thin, and wouldn’t bowl over after but a few meaty punches. Well, the road ahead was clear it seemed and thus there was no reason to not strike up a conversation with his charge, the noble reasoned.

“So, Sauer, sounds almost like sour eh? Har-har. You have been to Tilea, right? Learned the tongue?”

Erwin broke from the mindless reading of the tome in his hairy hands as he was addressed, pulled from what had kept him occupied thus far on the trip they'd undertaken.

He faked a smile and a light chuckle at Hugo’s attempt of a joke. It'd been one he'd heard all throughout his life. He spoke up in the foreign tongue with a thick Middenlander accent.

"Sí, maestro."

“That’s good. Languages are useful in this profession. Learned many in university myself. All the Kislevarin dialects, the Classical Tongue, Riekspiel variants, Norse, Estalian - which they tell me is quite close to Tilean - and Bretton. I even dabbled in the languages of the aliens myself, I can speak Mootish rather well and I can at least make a sentence in the languages of the Dwarfs and Elves to have them understand me, though the arrogant buggers usually squeal in protest at how I say it. ‘Course I’ve not been much outside the Empire. Seen Bordelaux and Karak Kadrin, but that’s about it for foreign parts.” Feeling he had gabbled on too long himself, the noble turned the subject back to Erwin. “Beastmen now, I’ve seen them a lot in this job. Had many encounters with mutants yourself?”

Erwin took in the information as it came, quickly archiving it, yet critically analyzing said qualifications Hugo claimed to possess. His opinion was that he was in the presence of a braggart, and an unabashed one at that. But perhaps that would be useful in the tasks to come.

"I know little of the language. Enough to ask a name and say a prayer or two. I thankfully don't need to do much talking in my profession." Erwin added to the conversation. "As for mutants, I have not had the distinct pleasure of encountering them beyond the deaths they supposedly caused."

“You’re in for a surprise, then.” Hugo laughed mirthlessly. “I’m sure you’ve fought men before. Well, think of fighting a man that’s too stupid to know when he’s beaten or even in pain; and that’s just the dumb little ungors. Gors are just like that but they got the size and strength of a beast, and bestigors… well you can see where this is going. More luck than skill involved with fighting them. Before you fellows I worked with the Black Badge under an Ulrican Priest. Man swung a hammer with the speed and grace of Witch Hunters and their feather-weight rapiers. It didn’t save him from getting gutted by a mutant, though. He fought them as if they were people, forgetting they had no care for parrying or self preservation much of the time and would swing right at you even as you are centimetres from breaking their skull. Not looking forward to meeting them again I’ll tell you that. I’ll take a good orc or cultist over the beastfolk any day.”

The man took off his hat, and smoothed down his hair before putting it down. There was still much daylight, but somehow there was gloom. In combination with the untalkative party the mood of the noble soured very fast, and a slight paranoia crept upon him. The trees seemed to rustle more than they should have, bushes moved about. Once again, Hugo tried to distract himself. “Done much boating in your life? Might come in handy here. Got no sea legs, me. Thought I’d take to it naturally what with my father sailing all up and down the Reik, but apparently not. I’ll start hurling only a few hours into a sail, nasty business the water.”

Erwin flicked his eyes to and from the tome which he read avidly throughout the conversation, settling his eyes on Hugo finally after it was clear the conversation was going further than simple pleasantries.

“They really have no sense of self preservation? Interesting.” Erwin mused, before going about answering the question posed in the latter of Hugo’s ramblings. “Boating? I’ve been on a few. Mainly river barges, but never out in open water. I’ve no proper sea legs to speak of.” He chuckled dryly, an empty gesture it seemed.

"Errr, my apologies, I said that wrong Master Sauer. Its more they're too stupid to properly use them. When they see an Imperial army a band of them will run leaving only droppings and piss behind. But they often just cannot tell their doom is here, if that clears it up my good chap. Regardless, bad sea legs is unfortunate. Maybe at least the elves will have some what with the Ulthuani marine tradition, eh? Perhaps the two of them can hold us as we both let our dinners fly out."

Hugo scratched his nose. The conversation was fluid but… well, it only touched matters of their work truth be told, and it almost felt awkward. Now it could have been the prior paranoia, but it seemed the bushes and trees were getting more lively. Now that in and of itself wasn’t bad, but he hadn’t seen any squirrels or other creatures of the woods that would normally be to blame for disturbing the silence. The thought that the usual animals of the place had been frightened away started to preoccupy Hugo’s mind the moment it came to him. “So, err, you… like to read do you?” the man said, trying to sound nonchalant so that any ne’erdowells listening would not suspect he was looking out for them. “Say, you know who likes reading? That Elf, Karuhar, I reckon the two of you could get quite a bit from one another.”

The Division | Mao Mao & Andreyich

PENNSYLVANIA PLAZA // MADISON SQUARE FIELD HOSPITAL

---

Badger chuckled, giving a lovetap to his comrade in the relative security of the moment. "Bullets' not so scary when you know its coming. The Japanese thought it is the ones who go into battle hoping to die that will live, the rest will perish. I'm not a teen virgin to be obsessed with samurai but I think there's value in that."

It would have become by now clear to Firefly that Badger (rather appropriately) considered himself as a hard bastard but he nevertheless failed to restrain a retch as the smell hit him. He was a warrior not a coroner, and though these deaths were fairly recent they nevertheless had been about now to accumulate a stench.

After a moment the Agent managed to brace himself however, and he followed suit. The man hit the deck as gunfire erupted against the duo and was about to end the life of their assailant before his comrade's voice rang out. Keeping his firearm trained upon the gunman Badger eventually relaxed as it seemed Firefly was able to talk the person down, and eventually he stood up looking about. A thought came over the man that he should be documenting this. After all, nobody else as and all that was happening couldn't just be forgotten. Though he considered himself to not be ghoulish enough to take photos while a man was dying before his eyes, Badger nevertheless took his phone from his pocket to make sure there was enough charge on it that some pictures could be taken; the history books of centuries later would have high-res photographs oh yes.

But there were more urgent matters to attend to. Thus Don turned to the Doctor and lowered his mask a little out of deference, before asking quite bluntly: "Fuel. Where is it?"

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