Tearstone

Stargate - H.M.S Tempest

Here's the thing.. There's kind of a back and forth type of thing that has to happen. I cant just arbitrarily state that my character solves the obstacle in one way, or another. It's up to the GM to determine success or failure. It's like launching an attack in T1/para style combat, defender (In this case the door/GM) determines the success the enemy had upon them, and how much damage or effect that occurred. I have a number of things I can try but it's going to require several back and forth posts, or a long and more difficult to understand or non-sensical post. OR a collab.

The other thing we can do is work through things in PM and then make a post about the results which might work the best.

Operation: Red Hatchet

I can work with whatever.

Stargate - H.M.S Tempest

Once they had entered the shade of the derelict there was some relief from the beating sun. Immediately Brandt was grateful. The distance had been farther than expected, but that was an illusion of closeness due to the size of the vessel in question. Taking a drink from his canteen he sealed it back up, then double-timed it to the doorway. "Affirmative, sir," he said then studied the door and symbols. "Seems Asgardian. That' might be a little odd. I thought this was where the Ancients had come," he muttered, half to himself, half to Miller. Pulling out his fixed blade knife he rapped on the door and then the hull. The former was sturdy but sounded hollow and had an echo, and the main hull itself seemed quite solid and hard. No hidden or empty spaces.There seemed to be a keypad of sorts, only a couple buttons. "Sergeant," he said, then gestured to it. There was a slot in the back which seamed something could or should be put into.

He gestured with the knife to the pad, the slot, and the Asgard symbols. "Looks like we might need an access card or external power source or something. Probably a pretty smart design feature in the event of systems being down or out. We could try to force it, or blow it. You were in demo, right sir?... I mean I'd rather not. I think we can get in decently, but I think I'd like your opinion on it before I do anything, sir." It was a subtle way of saying "if something happens... its not going to be my fault" but he did not say it out loud.

Stargate - H.M.S Tempest

The TS-1 ready process had been interrupted by reversion to realspace and subsequent collisions with the debris afloat in the field. Milton had been getting into his gear, black ACU style uniform. It was pretty similar to the fatigues when he'd been in echange with the US Air Force. He'd picked up his mission kit, as well as his translator's kit. It seemed they weren't using him as a lead linguist at least for the moment. That might be subject to change at any time, so he needed to have his tablet and translation software ready to roll. He'd had several manuals piled into his gear as well, small but sufficient to help him stay concurrent and fresh. He didn't have much problem reactivating old languages, but he knew he was going to be calling on several of them frequently for this tour.

The tablet which was a glorified PDA was more advanced than the gear he'd used with the teams out of Cheyenne, and had built in recording suites and voice analyzers. He could use it as a com-link and a portable lie detector. A couple of other things that were useful, like line tracers, and a few simple tools, sunglasses, radio, compass, pace counter/Ranger beads, binoculars, anda few other things were part of his loadout. He had a small survival kit too, geared for desert, which gave him some paracord, a good fixed blade knife, ferro rod, and a military canvas tarp, canteen, sunscreen, salt tabs. Part of the standard loadout was at least one MRE. Meals Rejected by Everyone weren't Milton's favorite thing, but it beat starving.

Knowing they would be beaming down to a desert world, he slathered on sunscreen, and changed from the usual baseball style cap to a wide-brimmed boonie hat with vent holes. The idea of going to a sweltering environment wasn't ideal, and he didn't relish it, but the job was the job. After a moment's consideration he added a black shemagh which could protect face and neck, provide more shade and cooling, and had a ton of other uses. Most of everything disappeared into his tactical rig. For weapons he snagged a couple of smoke grenades, a concussion grenade, and a fragmentation grenade. A suppressed FN P90 with holo sight was issued to him with two extra magazines. Typically he preferred a different weapon, usually the H&K MP-7 developed for LAPD S.W.A.T.. It was even smaller than the P-90, and usesd a smaller round that was designed more for penetrating armor. The P-90 was a sweet weapon system though, and it worked well. He was fully rated with it, and could put rounds on target all day. He simply had his own likes. At least by keeping standard weapons compliments, they could share munitions.

With the impacts to the Tempest tossing people about, causing power surges and secondary structural damage, and secondary internal explosions, he'd been lucky to avoid injury, except for a couple bumps and bruises. He'd been spending his time helping where he could to repair systems. He was no super-tech, but he knew how to wire electronics, and he could take direction. When he was informed it was time to return to mission, he had cleaned his hand soff and headed back.

It wasn't hard to see some of the nervousness and excitement on the faces of those around him. He could also tell that their Tok'ra advisor was worn down and a little frazzled around the edges. By what he'd heard being passed around the ship, she'd probably saved a number of lives up on the bridge with her healing device. He was thankful for that. Still, his own thoughts were more directed to the operation ahead.

Materializing on the planet's surface, he held onto the cooler air in his lungs for as long as he could then sighed and took his first breath of hot, dry air. He moved with the rest of the team, sweeping his own gaze out behind his sunglasses. The slight chill that had been clinging to his skin was rapidly being eaten away by the blazing heat. The shade of his hat and the sunglasses made adjusting to the light no problem. When the Sergeant ordered the second element out to the city he took a moment to speak up as they moved toward the wreck. “Sergeant, do we know what the rotational cycle of this planet is,” he asked. That would determine day/night cycles and the last thing they needed was to be out on open desert when nightfall came. It would probably be bitter cold in the city too, but the buildings would radiate heat longer. The derelict they were making their way to would probably be thermally insulated... but that meant it could be an oven, holding the heat in from days of glaring sun, and never quite venting all of it at night... then building up more the next day, and not quite cooling as much as the previous night, until it was worse than a sauna at night and a solar oven during the day.

At least hydration wasn't an immediate concern, or starvation

The heat was a pain, that was for sure, but he put the discomfort out of his mind as he sub-vocally murmured an old marching cadence to himself. Almost immediately his discomfort left his mind and rote rhythm and routine took over, his body starting to operate with machine-like determination. The body follows the mind, always.

One bead. One hundred meters. The ranger beads were on a piece of paracord, short, with knotted ends, with plastic beads in olive drab. It had been folded over and knotted with a loop so that it hung from another loop of paracord from one of his zippers. Easy access. One side had four beads, the other had nine. When all nine were expended, he would have walked a kilometer. When the four beads were ticked down to the end knots of the string, that would make five kilometers. It was a decent way of dead reckoning navigation. It was an old habit from the SAS days, a reflex and it had saved his bacon more than once, as well as his buddies. He supposed he could be a cocky sod about it but that would get him nowhere.

Another hundred meters ticked by, and by now he was positively broiling in his gear, but he couldn't afford to get rid of any of it. Still, it mattered little. “Sergeant... Sir, are we still getting that locator beacon from the derelict? If I can get a hand I might be able to get a lead on deciphering whether it's computer code or something more like an actual language. Might give us more of a heads-up on what we're walking into.”

[Casual] Seeking New Partners

Bump for significant person.

Stargate - H.M.S Tempest

Name: Milton Brandt
Aliases: Thomas Pennington, Sergei Cherpovka
Appearance:

During time with the SGC

Rank: Corporal (SAS)
Role: Rifleman| Intelligence/Interpreter
Unit: Tempest Strike 1
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Reason chosen for Tempest: General field experience, skilled linguist, interrogation and information gathering. Will not be a tactical liability for security operations, can be a go-between with civilians on team, and serve as a point of contact between outside NEO's (Non-Earth Origin beings). Has a variety of other side skills that may be useful.
Personality: Focused, likes to pit his wits against others, favors social engineering. Brains over brawn, duct tape over guns.

Short Biography: Milton went into the armed services just after graduation. Coming from a dysfunctional family, his father was an abusive drunkard, and his mother was a hypochondriac that left him with some near prescription grade issues. The entry into the military was an effort to get away from home life. As a result of his background he was used to rough-and-tumble situations, taking a beating, and thinking on his feet. It also meant that he didn't miss home much. He worked his way into the SAS after plenty of letter writing and petitioning. Once in, he did well, but some of the selection course that year was brutal enough it nearly killed half the class during the survival phases. Milton, or Mills did well enough though and came out pretty hardened on the other side.

Inside the military his training was focused on intelligence gathering, interrogation, and interpretation or linguistics. Using military metrics and language key activation systems, he picked up fluency in half a dozen languages and competency in close to a dozen more. With his mind focused on these abilities, he can pick up new languages rapidly and be competent with them, quickly able to sound like a native speaker. MI-6 picked him up soon after, refocusing his skills he'd picked up in the military, and adding to them, playing on his charisma and natural desire to match wits against others, along with his patriotism. By age twenty-eight he had heard rumors of a Project Stargate, and when it was discovered that he was researching into it, his superiors had a choice... either make him look like a looney, or they could read him in, and bring him into the program. Being such a useful asset, they decided for the latter.

It was for these reasons that he was chosen to begin to work with the SGC as part of an international SG team. When the HMS Tempest began to need crew, he was passed over more than once, as the mission for the ship was to be exploration, not intelligence or combat assignment. It seemed that the military minded naval folks aboard, along with those running security felt that a person that could fall between full military and civilian, could pick up languages fast, adapt to new situations and environments and more would be useful, and could be able to deescalate situations rapidly and glean information faster, process intelligence more quickly than relying on analysts back aboard ship or back at base, or or by relying on allies like the Tok'ra or the Asgard. With having an asset like that on the ground, they could follow up on things much faster, and get to know the locals better, put a friendly face to military forces and so on.

Stargate - H.M.S Tempest - Recruitment

Hey Sep. I had to take a step back from the Exile RP, but would like to get into this. Are you still taking players?

Kalmaysia Academy Official

TheLastRunaway said
Oh jeez, everyone went to bed? It's only 8:40 over here.. .-. What do I do now?

Not to be stalkerish, but you have a PM or two that could use a reply. >.>

Ghost Hunter RP

Have you ever heard of the game setting "Beyond the Supernatural" from Palladium Books?

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