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Well, it wasn't last night, but at least it's up now. Had a bit more to write than expected since I'm late and all.
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- Azereiah 11 yrs ago
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Ren
The Cantina
Deep within the confines of the Revenant, Ren idly watched and listened. The ship didn't have much in the way of internal security, but if push came to shove, Ren was, even in its downtime and operating under the simplest of AI routines, confident that there was no risk of losing the ship while it was on board. The chances of the Revenant being boarded were low enough of course, but as far as any "enemy" was concerned, there was a monster on board that wasn't in any crew logs or shipping manifests. Ren was the ship's security system, and if a threat appeared, Ren wouldn't be trapped in the ship with them: they'd be trapped in the ship with Ren.
Renli and Rento quietly stepped into the bar alongside SAL. Renli was the active unit, while Rento was performing her duties via her onboard non-sentient AI systems. Rento was more akin to a simple droid in this state, albeit with a better paint job, just as Renli had been when he was first unboxed. Things were going smoothly, for the most part. The patrons weren't terribly concerned by the ships' crews, and as far as any of them could tell, it was business as usual at a shady bar in a bad part of town. His sharp hearing let him listen in on a number of conversations happening, and for the most part, it was just the usual stuff. Drug deals, smuggling rare medical supplies, banned virtual reality games in one corner, alcohol induced arguments, embezzled funds, the works. Nothing too worrisome there, but there were some things that properly caught his attention.
The first was a short-lived brawl: some poor sod had made the mistake of picking a fight with their funganoid crew member, Tibulus. Wait, Tibulus!? Renli let out a slight chuckle at the skeleton's shitty pun of a name. Probably had it long before his current state, but if anyone could be resurrected by sentient necro mushrooms, it'd definitely be someone with a name like that. And so he swiped a credit note that was hanging out of a large, furry creature's jacket pocket and took a seat at the bar next to the Revenant's shocking choice of a pilot. One of the bartenders, more attentive than any he had seen before, swung one of many its heads up towards him as if implying he should place an order or get off the stool. "Earth style moonshine. In a mason jar, preferably."
Other drinks were infused with various mind altering substances that made them hit far harder than even the purest of Earth's traditional brews, but Renli was attached to his old preferences. "Sorry. No münshine. Ünly Earth drink is Jakk Danyell's Ten'see whiskey." Disappointing, but not unexpected - that old brand had been around for so long it'd more or less swallowed the entire rest of the liquor export industry, leaving other, better drinks as old fashioned delicacies primarily to be found in Alliance territory. Renli nodded and accepted the offer, then pushed forth the stolen credit note. The Bartender's wall-eyed, dinnerplate face didn't seem to notice or care and left the credit note on the table, then firmly planted an entire unopened bottle on the bar in front of Renli.
Did everyone in space have stupidly high tolerance or something? Either way, Renli turned to Tibulus. "Enjoying yourself?", he asked with a smile, still surveying the space for any sign of trouble.
The second thing he noticed was that Stryker had left his name out of the conversation with the other captain, either intentionally or by accident. He preferred being referred to as one person anyhow, so that was fine by him. But what was Stryker playing at, here? Was the other captain untrustworthy? It was a question better left to better men though, so Renli turned his thoughts back to the 750ml bottle of bourbon and Mr. Bones.
@Banana
Rento was "off" and thus blissfully unaware of any conscious thoughts that might have otherwise interrupted her security sweep. Every bulging pocket, every possible hidden weapon, every avenue of escape was recorded, processed, and sent to Ren's and Renli's internal transmitters. She was wearing baggy cargo pants and a leather jacket, zipped up over an ancient band tee shirt from before the era of neuroprosthetics and AI. The pants were the obvious place for a hidden weapon, so she had hidden three out of five of her M1911s under the jacket and on her back. Renli was carrying the other, more well maintained one, and she had placed her own personal pistol from her time in the United States Army inside the Tower's storage cabinet for safekeeping before departing the ship.
Some of the more questionable patrons were leering at her, clearly mistaking her for some sort of 'companion bot', and like all other information, this was transmitted to Ren and Renli. She would step in for herself if it caused a problem, but the patrons seemed to all be too drunk and distracted to do anything stupid.
Stryker's mentions of Ne'ero Sol brought Rento's attention to the large man in the gaudy suit. Possibly dangerous, potential unknown. The bodyguards were a much greater threat. One of the organics was very large -- a Havarn, a species known for its martial prowess, and this one was larger than average. But like with all organics, the Havarn seemed rather squishy. More troublesome was the presence of a series of robotic patrons that seemed somewhat out of place. Three older model labor automatons, clearly modified but with unknown potential were present, and Rento's backup AI marked them as suspicious. Whether or not they were actually guards remained to be seen.
A simple logic to speech system waited for a lull in conversation and fed equally simple descriptions of potentially armed patrons, guard armaments, and figures of interest to Stryker's communicator under the assumption he was actually wearing it.
@Crossfire
Grimm Studies
A shout from across the room caught Ashe's attention. Skye was calling out for her to join the other group of students, and Ashe tried to make her way to join them while the two tentacles were still far enough away. She sprinted towards the other group, not noticing the creature staring at her and two others. The tentacles reached her first, as she was only halfway to her destination.
When the Dionaea resumed its assault on her, Ashe was prepared. Mostly. The beast didn't just use the two tentacle-like vines, though, but rather three. Gods damn it, it's like fighting a train wreck. I'm not built for this shit!, she thought. It was going poorly already, and it was only getting worse, even with the blow she'd taken to the head reminding her to pay attention to all of the tentacles. Dodging, weaving, ducking, vaulting over tentacles kept her from taking any more hard hits, but between the exertion and the splitting headache, she was slowing down.
Eventually one of the tentacles struck her in the back, throwing her off-balance and sending her scrambling across the ground and into the shallow waters until she could pull herself upright. The other students were having much less trouble with the damned thing - and had brought tools that were better built for killing large Grimm to boot. Shields, swords, ranged weapons, the works. And all I've got are these fucking gloves!
At least she was closer to Skye's group now, but the vines weren't letting up, and the damned screeching from the Grimm's smaller heads felt like it was coming from inside her already aching head. The vines swung again, and she hopped the first, ducked the second, and watched the third sail off in a totally different direction: towards a classmate. Good riddance, not my problem anymore... Its sudden departure gave her the chance to finally do something, and she hastily spun the dials on her gloves to their highest settings.
A tentacle returned once more only to be met with Ashe's fist. A flash of blazing white flame erupted from the gloved fist towards the tentacle's tip as though she had summoned forth Gungnir from Odin's very hand, burning clean through its hide with a loud crack as the red crystal upon her forefinger shifted to a lifeless shade of red-tinted grey. An eruption of foul, burnt smelling gas burst forth from the gaping hole, indicating some unknown degree of hopefully massive internal damage. Whether or not the remainder of the tentacle would still be usable remained to be seen, but the Grimm yanked the vine away from her immediately.
While the creature was recoiling from the strike, Ashe dashed the rest of the way to the middle of Skye's group formation. A burning sensation at the top of her right hand caught her attention - her Magician's Hand, in all its shoddily constructed glory, was on fire. Very on fire. And the synthetic fibers were melting onto her skin. When she dunked her flaming hand into the marsh waters, the burning itch didn't go away, so she channeled some of her remaining aura toward the burn site in a desperate bid to keep the pain from getting worse. Exhaustion was catching up to her as well, and her heart was pounding in a way it hadn't since the first gang brawl she'd been in. Deep breaths. Deeeeeeep breaths... In through the nose, out through the mouth...
"Sorry I'm late. Taking the rear," she called out to the group over the Dionaea's ceaseless screaming. She wasn't sure if she'd be much use to anyone while out of breath and nearly at the bottom of her aura reserves, but she at least still had one weapon, so she took up a position at the rear along with Skye. One more hit and she'd have to run for the classroom door if it didn't put her down.
As a precaution, she turned the dial on her remaining glove from 11 to 9: 1/4th the power, and not as likely to scorch her left hand.
@NarayanK@Krayzikk@FlitterFaux@Write
I'll get a post up tonight.
Welp. Never mind. Looks like it's not happening. Anyhow, someone poke me when the class is winding down, though at this rate that may take another month. I won't be participating until things actually move forwards. Might make a short post in which Ashe is removed from the fight so I can bow out without getting auto'd by the GM.
Sorry for the delays. I'll get a post up tonight - just been too busy with political activism and college.
Think we could keep this thing moving?
I'd be down for a short time skip.
Grimm Studies
Scent and/or pheromones... Or motion. Or heat, perhaps? That's a lot of stuff to go through, Ashe thought to herself. She knew from her previous encounters that Grimm only partially sought out prey based on negative emotions. Happy people tended to not get attacked by Grimm while walking outside of cities, while people struggling with some personal catastrophe didn't seem to make it to their destination all that often. But they also generally had eyes, noses, ears. Simply hiding from a Grimm was often enough to survive for just a little while longer, and Grimm could be blinded. At least, if they had eyes.
Others were formulating their own plans in their own circles of friends allies, and she was sure that most of them could take care of themselves while she tested her ideas out. Of course, she couldn't think through every detail on time, because Port suddenly alerted the class that it was time to fight. It was rather uncomfortable - she felt much more confident with gathering information well before taking action, but she supposed it was realistic enough to be thrown into a fight with nearly zero knowledge. And so the box slid into the floor, taking the class's safety with it.
She stood, nervously eyeing the gigantic creature. She hadn't ever properly fought Grimm before, and here she was facing off against some sort of giant floral tentacle monster. Every motion it made prompted a slight twitch, some nervous reflex to run or to jump aside, but it seemed to be taking its time. And then it struck.
One tendril came straight for her, and for some reason, her eyes locked onto it. Alertness was out the window, and with a reflexive flick of one finger and a jab of her wrist, she launched a spurt of flame directly at the masked tentacle headed her way. Nothing happened -- the safety was on and the magnitude was still unset, and she only barely managed to vault over the vine's side swipe before the second, unseen tentacle came crashing down from above.
THUMP
Aaaaand down she went. At least her aura kept her intact and conscious, if dazed and gifted with a truly exquisite headache. Instinct kicked in and with a quick slap to the back of each glove and a second jerk of one finger, she jabbed her fist towards herself. The gravity burst sent her skidding across the floor out of harm's way, and with some minor difficulty, she pulled herself upright. This wasn't going to be easy. At all.
Ren
Where are my guns? (cont.)
Rento nodded as Stryker spoke, then at Maxi in return. So there would be a job coming up pretty soon. That was good -- she'd be able to ingratiate herself with the rest of the crew. The only people who'd seen her in action were the good Captain and the other gunner, whatever his name was, who'd already left. Perhaps this would be a good chance to get a good reputation, since... Well. They were basically privateers, after all, and she wasn't sure how long it would take for them to blast her main processing unit out of existence even with the risk of blowing a hole in the ship.
"Medically induced and shock induced comas? Shitty luck. Hey Doc, have you considered trepanning?", she said with a wink. Brain swelling was pretty serious and she was only half serious about it. It might actually work to keep the half-dead one alive, though. "Are you, by any chance, a neurosurgeon? Or do you have experience with it?"
She quickly, internally, glanced at the camera feed from Ren. She only caught a few words before closing it out. It seemed Grayson was in the middle of a rather, er... Personal conversation with another crew member. Better keep that private. On the bright side, that meant that she'd be able to satisfy her more voyeuristic tendencies. In the meantime she'd kill some time.
"If there's an on-foot job coming up, I'd like to go with the away team. Haven't had much mortal excitement lately," she said towards Stryker.
@Crossfire@Tickout
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