Eisenhorn

Sailing the Seas of Aquarianus! (A D&D 3.5 High Seas Adventure!)

That was more intended that the high risk, high reward job would be risking steady, albeit still dangerous, work running Chinaworth cargo, versus running the risk of not making a good profit off the pirate hunting, for whatever reason, even with free repairs thrown in.

Sailing the Seas of Aquarianus! (A D&D 3.5 High Seas Adventure!)

Hmm, I'm cool with either, though I can't really decide between whether to vote high risk high reward, or go for the more reliable work with Chinatown, or go for the big bucks with Ashur. My only thoughts about the latter are logistics, mainly, but I would be happy to work with either.

A Hunt of Blood and Gears { Eisenhorn and Fairy Tale Dreamer }

Adrian listened to the Vampiress Victoria speak, and as she spoke, he finished up with his rifle, letting it rest in his lap while she finished speaking her bit, and he shrugged a bit. "I'm not really prepared to discuss my past with vampire kind, they ended my service in the Commonwealth Army, that should suffice for the moment. I can't speak on not knowing your past, but it sounds like a terrible burden, to put it mildly." Not knowing where one came from was practically as bad, if not worse, than not knowing where one was going. They went hand in hand, so it was simple enough to see how not knowing one could make the other difficult. "I imagine you have at least attempted to figure out your past at some point or another?"

Adrian listened to her response to his rifle, how it was fascinating and impressive, and Adrian nodded, although he did not necessarily wish such weapons needed to exist. But they did, so here he carried one of the finer examples of such tools. "Aye, its only one part of a new generation of weapons brought on by this revolution of Steam. I do not know how effective it shall be against your King, the rounds are based on the blood of the vampire itself, and it might require a more potent sample to ruin a more potent being, such as the King." Her talk of the doctor and his night hours was a quiet relief, if a small one at the moment, and he nodded while drawing his revolver, breaking it open to make sure everything worked properly with it as well. "That is good to hear, I can feel my leg just isn't right, even if I couldn't tell otherwise. Apologies about your dress, by the way, didn't intend to see it ruined." He gave her a chance to respond in kind, keeping the tidbit about the factories in mind, clearly thinking about such things now, debating how it was probably going to be some place he paid a visit to, in time, when he was recovered more thoroughly.

World of Darkness (Boston)

The Tremere watched as the Camarilla vampires gathered, all walks of such beings of various standing and power gathering to hear the grim news, if their own crude imitations of information networks, barring a few skilled amongst them, had already informed them of the news. He observed two such beings, one he had personally instructed a ghoul to inform, the other, probably a side effect of that. The Seneschal Eriko Nishimura, a fascinating example of her clan, that much was certain. Information was scarce, hardly surprising as she probably kept such things out of sight, and he hardly dug too deep. Such things would be noticed enough to attract her ire, and such a thing he could ill afford, especially a time like this. His musing on her were kept short and to the point, only concerned with the fact that, with the Prince dead in a permanent sort of way, she was the de facto ruler of the Camarilla operations in Boston. That meant she was THE boss above him now, for the present, rather than one of the higher ones. And knowing how she acted in the past, she probably had all sorts of agents and operations already in action, all to cover for this assault and other such shadowy goals that lurked in her mind.

The other notable presence, to the Tremere at least, was a Kindred that most of the others avoided, one who spoke with rats and held the information network that, he suspected, outclassed his or, at the very worse level, provided a rather potent rival. A strange specimen of their kind, which was saying something, the sewer dwelling information broker was probably the single Kindred in Boston that could treat information as a deadlier weapon than himself, and he could respect that, if nothing else. He, with his own strange habits, hardly cared or was bothered by the sewer Kindred's habits and company, although they rarely crossed paths personally, he was sure proxies and such in each of their networks had crossed paths consistently, and made deals and such as part of their own work as well as their master's. He approved of the information that Tosh, if memory served him, would potentially bring to the table, especially augmented with what his own report had, should Eriko decide to share.

Speaking of the illustrious Senseschal, Inigo calmly approached her, black folder tucked under one arm, leaning heavily as usual on his cane, inclining his head as he paused a respectful distance from her, well aware of her body guards presence in this place. After the Prince's death, of course they would be even more heavily aware of their surroundings and charge than usual, which was impressive considering their natural talent to begin with. But, such idle thoughts were irrelevant, and he spoke to her directly, before it was time to address the Camarilla. "I apologize for the disruption, Seneschal, but I suspect you will forgive such intrusions this eve. Enemies escaped with the life of our esteemed Prince, endeavoring to end our esteemed estate of Boston, though that ever endearing ghoul most likely eagerly elaborated as such." Probably not eagerly, but the poor creature had little choice in the matter, after all, Inigo was hardly one that could be blown off when he got on a roll. With her here, he was inclined to let her take the spotlight, hand out orders, and such, and passed her the black folder, speaking as he had before, hardly direct and apparently wasting breath for those unfamiliar with the Tremere.

"A specially structured script, storing select sources upon sometimes stressful souls against us, Sabbat and their seekers." It would contain the report meant for the Prince, so it would lack his normally maddening manner of speech, and in plain speak, it was an intelligence report on the most recent discoverable activities between the Sabbat, Garou on the outskirts, Human hunters, and other things of note. The Sabbat were the focus this time, however, and he figured that they had a hand in the death of the Prince, direct or otherwise. He resumed speaking while she either leafed through the report or not, adding onto what the ghoul would not have. "Speaking of Sabbat, this humble Tremere has called the meeting of the Camarilla, but is hardly one to be opening with speeches of venomous words and fiery orders, nor is he one to be in the open of such foreboding motions. The bulk of the bolstered body of the Camarilla appears bodily present, and it would bode well, in this one's opinion, to begin with the berating of some, the bolstering of others, and a beginning of new page in Boston history."

Inigo knew his manner of speech was not conducive to leadership, most Kindred couldn't follow or stand his manner of speaking for extended periods of time, for he spoke fast, and never directly stating manners. After all, one could summarize what he had stated as simply it would be, in his opinion, prudent to begin. But he spoke as such for his own amusement, and for his own uses, and so he would simply fall in behind the Seneschal, having both called the meeting, found the Prince's abode the way it was, and of course carried much knowledge of the report she now held, as well as additional information and such that would be analyzed further, he had a natural reason to be present. He stuck to the shadows around her, of course, keeping that respectful distance while waiting to be called upon, her presence would no doubt gather attention and silence the Camarilla that was gathered here, after all, many were confused as to why they had been summoned away from their duties. Let Eriko deal with explaining that, it was hardly his place to do such things with higher authority present now. Let her deal with the shock and backlash that would arrive from such things becoming known to the main populace of Camarilla Kindred.

A Hunt of Blood and Gears { Eisenhorn and Fairy Tale Dreamer }

Well, I feel like a major heel.

I'm terribly sorry about forgetting to post here, got a bit busy and it slipped my mind. I can have a post up today if your still even interested, if not, I'm sorry about letting it die like that.

Sailing the Seas of Aquarianus! (A D&D 3.5 High Seas Adventure!)

Gerald listened to the others, his own arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair as they spoke in turn. This Captain Ragbeard's offer had piqued his interest, and he had more cause than most to get off the land again for awhile. Captaining wasn't something he had considered before, but from what the folks have said so far, he figured it was at least worth the offer. He didn't know their past experience at sea, if any, so he might as well offer his own services in such a role, even if it proved to be merely advisory. He politely waited for each person to finish that had spoken so far before breaking his own silence, keeping polite until he got a grasp on who each of these people were, in turn.

"I am in agreement with our friend here, we can hardly afford having an ill equipped captain in charge, I've seen that happen once too many times. I've spent most of my life at sea, done a variety of jobs. Its certainly not a sterling record, but if no one else here desires such a position, I can take up such a mantle of Captain, in transit, until either proven or someone else proves themselves a better fit to the mold." No lies, only omissions of his past there, but that was many a tale for another day, another drunken night mayhaps. But he spoke truth, having spent only a scant few years in total on the land, more familiar with a scrap at sea than at land, though he could handle both, and he left his offer alone at that, not attempting to push the matter or force it, letting it naturally work itself out, however it might become, for good or ill.

Sailing the Seas of Aquarianus! (A D&D 3.5 high seas adventure!)

Hmm, it does look interesting, count me in.

Mechwarrior: New Age of the Mercenary

Alerts from across the front came racing into the cockpit of Jurgen's Huntsman, and he sighed in a very tired sounding way when reports of a mercenary company with the banner of three talons on a field of grey came in, since he knew all too well who those particular band of mercs were. But through the sigh, he started chuckling a bit. Of course they would cross paths again, seemed that was a common occurrence at this rate, whether on the same side or opposing. He looked at the placement map of where his troops were, the only ones not in position were, unsurprisingly, his Harasser's who were out in the forest edge, and the fighting clearly spooked them and sent them racing back into friendly territory. Good, they were not feeling unusually brave today, that saved him the trouble of having to dispatch an order telling them to withdraw immediately. He didn't want to replace them without a good reason this day.

Jurgen snapped out orders from his vantage behind his tank line, well hidden in the rubble created by artillery barrages that had been pounding away as much of the defenses as possible, creating more than they had started with for creative defenders. Jurgen and his men needed to be creative, since they wouldn't be winning any slug fests straight face to face style. "All Dawn Runners, all Dawn Runners, now hear this. Make to your entrenchments and make ready to repel the first assault waves. Our old friends in the Dark Talons have come calling, led by the Queen Bitch of the Universe herself." That got some chuckles out of his men, the main reason he did it since they all knew it wasn't hostile, and they really didn't hold animosity towards the other mercenary bands. After all, they all had to make their pay somehow, so it was just the business of the day. Jurgen snapped more detailed orders out, having lightened the tension a bit.

"Musketeer's, your the first hitters against light and medium mechs, as well as anything you think is worth the ammunition. Harasser's, fire at anything you can do some reasonable damage to. Warrior's, to the skies the moment the first enemy mechs get within range of you, but don't go high up, and keep moving, who knows what kind of AA they might have. Hit hard, hit fast, but don't get yourselves caught in a corner. Engage at your own discretion." The first units to reach his section of line were infantry and their APC units, which got set upon from four different pieces of rubble, from the appearance on their side of the lines. Harasser's with medium lasers could do some work against a variety of targets, the APC's didn't stand much chance, and not many infantry were able to bail out, and energy fire would take care of those survivors.

The key to the survival of the Dawn Runner's in their defensive plan was a whole series of set defensive points each unit would shoot and scoot to, firing from one point until danger dictated they move to a new, seemingly random point, engage from there, rinse and repeat. Slower units wouldn't be able to pull it off, but the high speed, hover capabilities of all his units made it possible. The Warrior's would strike the first mech's that got into range of them, the ones they could damage at any rate, moving like flies, randomly swerving to throw off aiming protocols and keeping low enough that missile attacks could be avoided by ducking down into their landing safe zones within the deeper city proper. They would hit and run both flanks, popping shots at the oncoming tanks while sitting out of range of most weapons, abusing the Autocannon range while ducking down as soon as something started paying attention to them, before popping up again and scooting, firing again from different air space.

Jurgen had his Huntsman powered up, but held back in reserve, watching for any serious, high value threats towards his section of line. If the heavier mech's hit his section of line, he was the only chance they seriously had of bringing them down. The sole other mech in his company, the Stinger, was fighting, jump jetting from hot spot to hot spot, firing its own medium laser and machine gunning down hostile troops, the twin guns scything down lightly armored men with ease, while the medium laser would give some mechs pause, the fast moving, quick hopping light mech was a hard target to hit from between rubble piles and volleyed fire from friendly artillery units, being given targets from their forward positions, and by the Dawn Runners themselves, pointing out likely coordinates for valid hits, but his section of line was an apparent ghost division, moving fast enough some enemies swore that there was more there than was really the case, and word would probably reach others about this phenomenon. How long the Dawn Runner's could hold this defense, well, was up to partly chance, and partly how strong enemy opposition got in comparison to the support they would get. Jurgen had a fighting retreat series of lines set up, maximizing his advantages while minimizing his weaknesses, always keeping in mind changing battlefield conditions, waiting for the perfect ambush strike moment to arise.

World of Darkness (Boston)

All Caramilla Vampires, Inigo Malzahar

Inigo Malzahar stood upon the stage, alone. He had quite a lot on his mind right now, understandable, considering the events that had kicked off this wonderful night. He hadn't risen with the plans of finding the Prince, a vampire that, while they had never seen eye to eye, understood the value of information and gave him fairly free reign to do as he saw fit to get the job done. So they got along well enough, from a professional point of view. And he would not have wished a final death upon the Prince, not at this moment at any rate, there was far too much at stake, if his information and sources were reliable, and they had never failed him before. He had enough time vested into this network for it not to fail on him, and he had experience in this kind of work.

Inigo was in his usual great coat, leaning upon an old cane that seemed to support the vampire's weight more than anything else, although this was all smoke and mirrors. He had not removed his hat, a wide brim that had served him well for a good many years now, and he had invested some money in keeping in working order. His attire beneath was clean, but nothing flashy or fancy. A vest, dark slacks and working shoes made up a rather humble attire for someone of his standing. But Inigo did not readily stand on fancy garb, he spoke like an enigma many times as it was, there was little need to dress like one. He had a few other items on his person, nothing he gave any serious thought to. He had popped by his abode, collecting a few things he wouldn't take in the presence of the Prince, weapons, for example, and came here after sending the ghouls on their merry way.

Inigo knew arming himself against many of his enemies was a joke, but it kept up the illusion, and wasn't that the job of many, in the end? Lie to the face of the humans, let them think nothing was wrong, that nothing that went bump in the night was any more substantial than a heavy breeze or just an unstable tea kettle, and not something far more dangerous. But such thoughts were for later musing, as the ghouls arrived to receive their orders. "Go, fetch your masters, rally all those among the Caramilla to this home of drama. There is words to be had this night, for wrathful foes unseen have wrought woeful wickedness upon our kind. The flames of war have been unleashed, and discussion must be made as to how we shall demonstrate our response in kind, what deeds and actions must be placed in motion to preserve our mission. Go now, you have your orders. Ensure that the Seneschal especially is aware and present, one such as that will be required."

The ghouls would go, informing all the vampires of the Caramilla to go to the theater downtown in Boston, that a meeting of dire importance and emergency had been called, and that time was of the essence in this moment.

Mechwarrior: New Age of the Mercenary

Jurgen sat in the cockpit of the Huntsman, designated Command and Control unit for his mercenary band, on the virtue that he was the personal pilot of it, reading the incoming data streams, mission reports, progress on digging in and creating fighting holes for his hover craft, the ambush points that he needed to be aware of, a whole myriad of data one wouldn't think an average merc commander would think necessary. But such things were perfectly necessary and even vital for Jurgen, who was analyzing the situation, directing his men and their vehicles to go about their jobs. He had to handle this situation very carefully, a defensive siege was not necessarily the best job for a force like his, but the pay was good, and an old friend had asked him to help out. So here he was, organizing raiders for a siege. The Huntsman he was sitting in was powered down, so it couldn't be detected, only enough power to operate his display and communication system, waiting for the time to come online and strike out against the first heavy attackers. But to do that, he had to consider his allies in this situation, the State of Allavar. They had FedSun backing, one reason why he was here, and the pay was good, better C-bills than the other side was offering, so that was the why of the matter.

The how would be difficult. Defenders naturally had the advantage in many cases, here was one such case even facing a pincer maneuver that was inevitable. The entrenchments were facing the most likely avenues of attack, cased by his own Harassers and their high speed recon. The H7's he had were hidden, under cover and in ruins that hid the fact they were hangers. No one on the enemy side, mercenary or otherwise, should know that those armed VTOL's were waiting to react to a call for reinforcements from either side of the city. The key to his defensive contribution was his speed, he could get around to hard points in the defenses, he was piloting the slowest unit in his regiment, and you could hardly call a ground speed of almost 90 km/h, with a 150m jump distance, slow. The ground pieces that were entrenched alongside the unarmored infantry were solid, well protected, and covering the likely killzones. His concern would be hostile Battle armor units, small, fast, armored infantry that could outperform their fellows and be dangerous to just about everything he was fielding. His men had standing orders to evade them, rather than try to fight them. Especially if they were in numbers, just report their positions and movements if necessary for retaliatory efforts by units equipped to handle BA.

His men had been active, picking off those that ventured too close, whether they were scouting or aiming to cause trouble within their ranks was irrelevant. The medium lasers on the Harassers took care of them handily. That was the job the Harassers were proving excellent at. His Musketeer's had already been set up hidden firing posts, that they could bail from the moment they were needed elsewhere, or the position wasn't defensible anymore. The Warrior H7 VTOL's were standing by, Autocannon/2 and SRM-4 ready to provide fire support wherever it was needed. They were even more fragile than his Harassers, but safer since they could fly and sit out of range of a lot of attackers, the AC/2 gave them solid standoff distance. His XO was in the Stinger, a Med laser and machine guns gave it a decent, if unimpressive, armament to provide support from. The shining gem of his defensive force was the Huntsman, and omni mech with weapons to deal with most any threat. They had participated in raids while buying the defenses time to be built, and some of the enemies no doubt remembered the Huntsman opening fire, getting attention so his Harassers and Musketeers could raid their supply lines before all of them fled. Things had slowed down as the noose tightened around this city, relegating him to the job he had now, coordinating raids and picket defense as they waited for the assault to begin proper.

Jurgen faced his corp against the forest, which some might think a mad plan, but there was reasons. The plains had no cover, and he suspected the heavy vehicles would be coming that way, from recon reports, and they would stand zero chance against them in an open field. His forces in the forest, though, could operate better, even with the looming threat of Battle armor advancing as well, an idle claw could turn a high speed Harasser into a careening wreck of debris if done right. No, when it was clear the assault was starting, his Harassers had fire positions that were preselected for them to retreat to and open fire from, keeping their exposure minimal while their ability to return fire, maximum. But recon also reported heavy mechs, real heavy ones, were on this side as well. That made him apprehensive, but he had little choice now. There was no fleeing at this point, this was a stand against better equipped foes, at least for this type of work, and he was getting paid to do it. For now, all he could do was wait and see who came knocking, maybe some old acquaintances were waiting on the other side of the line, which would make things real interesting real quick. But for now, he took in reports, gave out new orders, reaffirmed standing orders, and made sure his men were as ready as they could be for the oncoming storm.