Foster

These are the voyages of the Heavy Hand; Foster and Murasaki

Mortimer finished Mutan's "fix" for this month without too much difficulty, with it she wouldn't age. Although he hoped this one wouldn't cause a bad reaction like earlier... which 'bleached' away her tan and dark hair when she was 21, also turned her eyes red; a sign of losing all melanin production in her body.

He remembered how her older sister would pick on her "gray hair" when she first learned of the condition. Although he insisted that going on a reduced dosage of anagathics for a few years would allow her skin-color to return to normal without suffering withdrawal-aging, Mutan was quite insistent to continue at full-dosage; that in a few decades, she would get the last laugh and her older sister would be the old-hag she truly is.

(fun trick, it's possible through anagathics to successfully go through 20-36 career-terms/80-144 years without aging a single day or being forced to muster-out, while building skill, however, if/when the supply is cut completely...)

---

Isaac eventually took Adria's earlier advice and took a quick shower while his commpad played something to keep him from falling asleep and missing Mutan's appointment before grabbing his semi-formal wear of a red long-sleeved shirt, grey pants, suspenders, tie, and a brown long-coat before snatching-up his flight-hemlet and heading for the hangar, double-checking for writing on the back to make sure it wasn't Adria's.

---

Adria took a bit more time to prepare, even managing to put her hair back in a ponytail. As usual, she dressed in layers to hide what little armor she would bring. The Flak-jacket was just too informal for trying to impress royalty, she was the ship's chief engineer, not some mindless kluge.

At the very basic level were undergarments to prevent chaffing and sagging while wicking away perspiration, her signature smart-mesh went on next and over that went her old blue dress-uniform topped with a black coat. Accessories included an officer's cutlass on her hip and a pair of knives tucked into each Wellington-boot.

Inside the ship's boat already sat a rather lavishly decorated interior pool-hall, while collapsible-furniture lined the hangar-walls.

Adria of course, did not forget her own helmet and breather-mask, which had scrawled on the back from her days in the Navy...

Stop screaming
^{I'm scared too}

~*~They're Coming...~*~ (Walking Dead Rp)

Perhaps.

Anyways, why bonking people on the head with a gun may be an immediately bad idea:

1. It can fudge a scope-mount or misalign any other gun-accessories, that may be important.
2. It can mar and damage the finish on the stock ("skull-shaped dents") and during resale, see point 1.
3. Slight possibility of damaging the rifle itself.
4. Chance of burning or shooting yourself if gun is hot or loaded.

and the most important one:

5. If you dad sees you abusing his $3,000 rifle, he's going to ground you for the rest of your natural life.

~*~They're Coming...~*~ (Walking Dead Rp)

You do realize there's room for 2 co-GMs, right?

These are the voyages of the Heavy Hand; Foster and Murasaki

Must be that time of the month again. Dawes thought to himself as he removed his arm from Mutan's vicinity about as calmly as he could. Surprisingly, Adria was giving him a similar cold-shoulder treatment while Mortimer simply grabbed a cup of coffee and went to hiding in the med-bay.

He then realized he was the only one left sitting in the lounge just as the PA blared from Mutan's stateroom:

>"Whomever is still in the mess should cut off the stove for me, please."

The starship's pilot, a former water-taxi pilot for a leaky seagoing boat, who had clawed his way from peasant to the personal-pilot and chauffer of the system's nobility; was also that same noble's personal steward on her bad days.

He slowly climbed back to his feet and flicked the gas off on the stove, just then it seemed as though a knot grew tight in his gut, movement difficult... then with a very queasy sensation, it was completely gone in such a way he could tell he'd just bounced off the floor for a second... Adria was playing with the gravs on him, and had he not been standing perfectly still, could likely have been jackhammered at three times the force of gravity until his legs broke.

Only one soft bounce, this was just a warning.

Some days those girls could be scary. One call to his contact back at the bar to meet-up on Stigma with the merchandise later and he was off to the showers to prevent himself from causing further mishaps this morning.

---

@Murasaki(compounding anagathics; req: Education; formidable, 10 minutes; phys and life sci)

Doctor Mortimer Knell sipped his coffee as he poured over the data on the resources he'd gathered for compounding Miss Godie's treatment this month. Making anagathics nearly from scratch was the practice of the day. Although it was simply a matter of finding the right parts of animals and mashing the right quantities together in under the right conditions, he was taking his time due to the risk involved. Like any life-saving profession, he'd only get one solid chance.

He had one hour.

---

Adria privately smiled a bit to herself at teasing Isaac with the gravs as she went to the clothes she'd laid-out for meeting Mutan's parents. Nobody else was in the room and he couldn't prove anything besides a minor stomach-upset; even if caught, she did tell them she was reseting the grav-settings on the entire ship... wouldn't be too hard to convince the others that she simply adjusted the wrong deck.

The ship's diagnostic on the fuel-pipes complete, yielding nothing... again... she wondered if she was a bit too reliant on the agent-program when she finally realized... the security-protocols for the J-drive computer-banks hadn't been updated in years. It would have only been a simple matter to hack her database through a comm-link to totally mess with the j-drive programs; since nobody here was an expert in J-drive operation, tiny mis-calibrations could easily be missed... she would have to get Mortimer to run a diagnostic on the programs and update the drivers...

With that done, Adria could take a sigh of relief as she peeled out of her working-clothes and took a much-needed warm shower, knowing full-well that Isaac wouldn't be using a drop of it if he knew what was good for him.

Weirdest Dreams

My dreams in a nutshell, just add a giant head-sucking leech somewhere in there.

Have fun with that.

RPG, What did you eat last?

Rice krispy treat, 5+ hours ago.

~*~They're Coming...~*~ (Walking Dead Rp)

We could simply use google-maps and RL-locations.
-Well, maybe not, since naming stores may be a bad thing.

But generally, most places are cool with the free publicity. Using the store-owners as NPCs, however...
-Simplest solution, FEMA-evacuation.

*Goes on google-maps looking for "Now which of these stores is most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse and/or WROL?"

These are the voyages of the Heavy Hand; Foster and Murasaki

Dr Knell nodded, and then sighed when he was being relegated to being servant simply because Dawes was quicker to his ass, and fetched the can of orange-drink, and a beer for Adria, since ex-military techie looked like she'd need something to get her to relax after hearing Dawes talk about unexplored tech that could be bought for scrap-value.

"I'll prepare your treatment. In the meantime, Adria, I suggest you wear something neater than... that."

"Ah, don't worry about it. You'll both look fine." Isaac quickly responded while placing his arms around the shoulders of the two women.

It was then the stench from Mr Dawes's perspiration hit the two like a tidal-wave. Adria quickly got up to leave the room.

"He's right though, I should clean up the cargo-bay and reset the gravity to standard across all decks. And Isaac, take a cold shower."

These are the voyages of the Heavy Hand; Foster and Murasaki

"From one of the research-stations he was supposed to be guarding." Adria's temper nearly flaired-up, but quickly subsided; a side-effect of working with a person as laid-back and forgiving as Mutan, "Sounded like he defected to 'the program' and gave them some advanced technology."

The engineer paused to get herself a plate of fried rice and spam, "Could actually be one of their underlings trying to make a political statement against the rich, really. Just some punk thinking they're being clever."

She chuckled, "At least it was a good prank."

---

Mortimer, their medic, walked-in. He was a bit flustered but was holding a bag of drugs that he quickly set aside in the med-bay cooler before seeing the two girls relaxing on the couch and watching the latest reports of the People's Glorious Resistance Movement's recent "charitable" actions and various conspiracy-theories on how the grav-belt managed to get onto the golf-course... same boring news until there was talk about recent efforts to automate cargo-handling being met with resistance from the teamsters' unions.

Adria sighed at the idea of -aside from working as an engineer- of no longer having a competitive edge in the marketplace should their ship be laid-up for massive repairs.

---

On that depressing-note, Isaac finally arrived from clear across the spaceport in their 'lil armored-buggy. They could all hear as he drove it into a powerslide around a corner before quickly parallel-parking it in the ship's garage-bay.

A short while later their fearless pilot strolled-in and towards the smell of fried meat, whistling casually and acting like he'd done nothing wrong in his life before seating himself between Adria and Mutan.

"Found an amateur merchant claiming he found some long-forgotten alien tech. Looked a bit too shiny on the inside... more like garbage that survived re-entry recently. Still, it's high-tech garbage. Mind if I borrow you two ladies to convince him it's just garbage if it isn't?"

~*~They're Coming...~*~ (Walking Dead Rp)

Usually there's the butt-swing to the chin, reverse-draw on the forehead, and pile-driving it on the poor SOB you've just floored.

Center of balance is usually just in front of the bolt, so baseball-swinging that part of the rifle would do the most damage, and the barrel can usually be considered a 3/4" solid chunk of re-bar with a tiny lil hole running down it. Axe-handles aren't even built that sturdy..
-Biggest mistake a person can make baseball-swinging is to strike with the very end of the buttstock, putting insane stress on the semi-pistol grip, usually breaking it there. (in which case, you've still got a club, no sense to stop swinging now; it's all you've got left)

All that said, getting swiped upside the head with the muzzle likely isn't going to be pleasant, either. Especially with something sharp, pointy, and heavy lugged onto it.

Throwing the rifle may also be a viable tactic. But so is killing a soldier with a cobblestone-brick.

*Picks up a P-mag and wonders if he can bash a skull in with it*