HHShetland

The Blue Moon Tavern

"Alrighty then." Rimau said as cheerfully as a fellow such as him is capable of, removing the mission paper from Mysaren's hands and into his so he could have a look at the bit he didn't read. "...Now, it says 'ere that these robbers 'ave 'oled their loathsome selves up in some kinda mountain range, right?" He affirmed, still glancing at the paper to see if there was any hidden details. Or hidden clauses designed to screw them out of their reward. It wouldn't be surprising in the slightest. Not that it ever dissuaded him; gave him something to do, at least. And the ones who tried to kill him had a nasty habit of getting bullets driven into their brains. "...This could mean one o' two things; either this mission'll be a piece o' cake, or it'll be the opposite o' cake. Like a... piece o' pie." He continued, scratching the side of his chin again. He finally cast his glance away from the paper and back at Mysaren, a look of purpose on him. Not too unlike that pauldron dumbass' look, actually. "...An' that depends entirely on whether or not these dumbasses 'ave decided to hide out in a cave or not. That said, if I know yer average dumbass crook, they tend to leave lots an' lots o' evidence on their path. Hell, I'm surprised guards across the land 'aven't formed their own divisions dedicated to analysin' evidence an' drawin' conclusions from that. Like a... crime scene investigation team or somethin'." With that hypothesis out the way, he proceeded to pin the paper back to the board before someone yelled at him; or the tavern started acting weird again. Like maybe the board would swallow the paper up, and his hand along with it. It was then he realised something, which made him rub his eyes and roll his shoulders about. Travelling. To a mountain range. Probably very cold. "Also, I don't s'pose y'ave some kinda transportation method?" He asked, in such a manner so as to not be too forthcoming with his dislike of cold climates. If he had to be in a cold climate, he could at least minimise the time spent. Not the time spotting, that was important. But the time travelling, on the other hand... "...Uh... not that I mind walkin'." He said once he realised he may have paused for a second too long. "I may be three-hundred-and-three, but I ain't decomposin' just yet. But when I start, I'll be sure to tell yer so y'can make preparations, heheheh... uh... that was a joke."

The Blue Moon Tavern

I need to focus. I've been getting distracted by video games today.

The Blue Moon Tavern

Well, as much as I'd like to continue, I'm afraid I must go to bed before I end up late for lectures again. I'll be able to stay up much later tomorrow night, though. Oh, and for @Sessamaru when he gets back, when characters decide to go on a mission, are we expected to describe their journey to wherever they're going at length, or do we just say 'they travelled, now they're here'? Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.

The Blue Moon Tavern

Rimau stood and listened to Mysaren's proposition carefully, with his arms crossed and his eyes squinting with focus to let her know he was listening. "Well, as it 'appens, I was mighty interested in that particular employment opportunity." He replied, curtly. "An' from the looks o' yer, I'd bet m'grand-pappy's soul that y'were some kinda magic specialista." After he said that, he idly sniffed at the lady by sticking his long, reptilian tongue out for a brief second. It was half-unconscious really, an old habit of his. When a Zizz met a new colleague, it was considered normal to sniff at them to show that they trusted them enough to disregard any blood they may have on them. Which was quite often. Unfortunately for Rimau, though, the scent he picked up off Mysaren's robes made him wince slightly. She had the stench of death coming off her, there was no doubt. And not just the figurative stench of a killer, but a literal stench of corpses. "...Necromancy, p'raps?" He asked, in as friendly as polite a tone he could manage. If she was, it'd be understandable if she wanted to hide it, but Rimau had nothing against Necromancers. If anything, he thought zombies made for an excellent barrel of laughs on a dull day, and that's ignoring his religious beliefs. "...Skills like that work 'specially well as a distraction." He continued, with interest. "...Lemme tell ya, some kids get real touchy when they see dead folks walkin', an' that makes fer a mighty effective distraction. From, say, the barrel of a nice Rifle trained at their 'ead." He said with a slightly devilish grin, pointing at Skrin-Ko's stock on his back; if he was right about her being a Necromancer, it only seemed fair he let her know what his preferred form of combat was. "I think we could work well t'gether."

The Blue Moon Tavern

Say, @Mysaren, has Mysaren (the character) washed at all since she last exhumed some bodies? Zizz have a very good sense of smell.

Beware the rust! [robotic discovery/survival RP]

Alright, I just posted my CS. If I get accepted, would anyone mind if they got me up to speed as to what's happening so I don't get confused? I'd be very grateful.

Beware the rust! [robotic discovery/survival RP]

Name: MSEB/G-097, better known as Emseb Grapple. Appearance: Size: Slightly bigger than human-size; about eight feet tall. Unit history: 'MSEB/G' stands for 'Modular Sports Entertainment Bot/Grapple'. The MSEBs were originally built not for actual warfare, but for a type of combat sport; the details of which have since been lost to time, other than that it surged in popularity after advanced robotics came to prominence. They were designed with two things in mind; unarmed combat, and the ability to take A LOT of punishment. Naturally, when the war broke out, they were hastily re-programmed with weapons handling data and pressed into service as 'mini-tanks'. The people doing the reprogramming couldn't erase their preference for unarmed combat due to time and money concerns, so they simply buried it. Memory: Grapple has only recently been awakened at the bottom of a mineshaft, having been dumped in there along with many other supposedly broken robots at some unknown point during the war. His memory is vague but better than one might expect; he remembers lots of crowds and getting cheered on for what he assumes to be winning fights, and then finding himself in crumbling cities whereupon he was struck with a direct hit from a rocket launcher, which was what presumably 'killed' him. His 'buried' unarmed combat programming has resurfaced seemingly by itself, since he doesn't really remember how to operate guns. In addition, he doesn't remember what 'MSEB' stands for; all he knows is that 'G' stands for Grapple, because that's what he's best at. Incidentally, he doesn't understand hyperbole, analogy or sarcasm; he'll take everything said to him literally. Equipment: He used to have a specialised scanning system which enabled him to record and analyse another robot's fighting style and tactics, but it's currently broken and unusable. Besides this, his limbs contain a sort of springy substance that mimics human muscle, except they are able to stretch for short distances, which helps with grappling, running, jumping and reaching that elusive top shelf. His armour plating is quite thick, to say the least, to the point that the above-mentioned rocket launcher only left a dent in his torso. If he has to use a weapon, he'll just pick up whatever happens to be nearby. Not that he'd like it much. He'd much rather just run up to an an enemy and suplex their heads off. Skills: Being a Grapple robot, he has a very extensive knowledge of wrestling techniques; and can usually pull them off unassisted thanks to his strength. Ranks: Combat: A (up close), D (at range) Memory: C Speed: C Companionship: C Electronics: D Wisdom: B Initializing data retrieval: ....................................................COMPLETE.

The Blue Moon Tavern

I never thought I'd ever write posts much longer than everyone else's, but apparently I do.

The Blue Moon Tavern

Rimau was about to look further into the job about the golden mask when the paper was suddenly taken off the board by some kid in fancy robes. He attempted to position himself in such a manner that he could continue reading, but no such luck; the kid was simply too big for him to not obscure Rimau's vision. He screwed up his face and grumbled for a brief moment. Alas, if he could see through solid objects, not only would he be the world's greatest marksman, without a doubt, but this sort of annoyance wouldn't happen. Soon, however, the kid suddenly turned around and looked Rimau directly in the eyes, the invisible 'force' of which prompted Rimau's own eyes to widen and his the line that was his mouth to upturn in a more friendly manner. It was then he realised something; the kid was actually a woman. A square-jawed woman, sure, but still a woman. Those were some thick robes. The sort of robes Rimau would die in if he wore them. Deciding that you can always get more done in life if you're nice to people, Rimau decided to clamber down off of his stool and make his way over to the lady; as fun as it was to keep rivalries, most of the time it tended to be impractical and juvenile to insist on a professional rivalry with a specific individual, especially if the job was well-paying. Merely competing with other mercs and hunters was a fact of business. But 'sportsmanlike' rivalry? Laughable. "Heyo there, kid. Couldn't 'elp but notice y'took down that mighty interestin' job proposition off the wall. ...Can't say I've seen y'round 'ere before, either." He said as he approached the lady, that weird muffle effect the Tavern seemed to have turning on. He stopped to look her over, see if she was the trustworthy type. She was certainly a lot taller than she looked, even taller than most humans he'd seen, who all tended to be taller than Rimau anyway. Made them easier to target. Raising one brow, he looked over her scars; clearly, she had experience with fighting, then. You don't get the sorts of scars on her face from cutting yourself while shaving... not that she'd need to shave, but still. Her attire seemed to suggest a magic user; magic and him didn't get along too well, but its practitioners had their uses. Their flashy tricks were very distracting for most people, and Skrin'Ko was indeed bound to him by an enchantier. Very nice fellow, he was. After a few seconds, Rimau decided he may as well introduce himself; after all, a name doesn't convey much. But he kept his hands close to his body, in case she was the twitchy kind. "...Th'name's Rimau. Rimau Ekoy-Rimau Eng-Dasku, but that's, uh... well, y'don't wanna know m'full name. Believe me, some'un once asked for it, an' lemme tell ya... uh, never mind. What's your name, kid?" He asked, smiling a little.

The Blue Moon Tavern

Mysaren's interested in retribution still if anyone wants to be mission buddies.

@Mysaren

Oh yeah; has she voiced her interest IC yet? Because Rimau has. Sort of.