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Post by danielle1 on Jun 25, 2010 14:28:04 GMT -8
((Heloise...I modified my post i think before you did as I didnt say exactly what you quoted. We are posting on top of each other ))
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kraftykate
Junior Member
Dr. David Sunday
Posts: 90
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Post by kraftykate on Jun 25, 2010 14:41:28 GMT -8
((What did you do that for? It worked out perfectly before))
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Post by danielle1 on Jun 25, 2010 14:46:02 GMT -8
((i had changed it before you posted the last time...as I misread what you said. Sorry for the confusion.))
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 25, 2010 14:48:41 GMT -8
((Dani, persuade rolls don't work on PCs. NPCs onry.))
As Scooter climbs down the stairwell into the bridge, the first thing he becomes aware of is wind. Lots of it. He lands on the deck amid the howl of air through the jagged holes in the starboard bulkhead.
The bridge compartment is a ruin, punched clean through on the right side, and with black pits on the left where the shots didn't quite have the power to go through. Bits of sharp-edged shrapnel and glass from smashed instruments rattle against the floor with every jostle of the airframe. The Captain sits slumped over the arm of his chair, unmoving and lifeless. What Dexter assumes is the pilot is collapsed in a heap next to the helm. The helm itself is knocked at an angle a few degrees from upright. The wheel free-turns over and over in circles, clearly disconnected from anything that might have an effect on the ship's attitude or heading.
Turning towards the aft of the compartment, Dexter sizes up the door for a moment before finding the locking catch. Sliding it back he tugs the door open, revealing the now somewhat-crowded bunk room.
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kraftykate
Junior Member
Dr. David Sunday
Posts: 90
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Post by kraftykate on Jun 25, 2010 15:02:24 GMT -8
The sound of the hatch opening and the rush of outside air force Heloise's eyes to widen. Spinning around she takes in the sight of Scooter's small form and the first glimpse of the battered helm. "Hey hey!" She smiles at Scooter appreciatively. "Good job, kid! Glad to see someone with smarts."
Heloise marches right onto the bridge, surveys the damage, and gets right to work. The view may be dizzying, but that doesn't seem to matter to her. Finally, she can do what's in her Watson blood. Make things work.
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Post by brendur on Jun 25, 2010 15:20:41 GMT -8
Tom's eyes flicker back and forth between the two women as they begin to hash out their troubles. His mouth opens to do something foolish like interject, when suddenly the port hatch opens as lo and behold, there was Dexter. Adopting a smirk he shields his eyes from the wind and walks on into the bridge, patting Dexter on the shoulder.
"Heh, not bad. Saved our arses, stopped what would have been one hell oh a cat fight, but ye saved our arses. Remind me to buy ye a drink in port. Iffin we get that far."
Tom looks about the wrecked cabin, walking up to the captain and making damn sure he's dead. When the signs are clear he stands up straight and salutes the corpse.
"Yer hereby relieved oh duty Captain. Don't worry, we'll get the old gal home safe."
Beginning to rifle through the Captain's pockets he looks to Heloise and Ellie.
"We will won't we?"
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Post by e on Jun 25, 2010 15:43:26 GMT -8
At sight of Scooter through the open hatch to the bridge, Claire grins and proclaims "About time!" She nods at Heloise, tucks her gun back inside her pack and steps through the opening, eager to lay eyes on the rest of the ship.
She turns in the hatchway, fixing her eyes on Ellie and says "I'm fair sure that guard had no information of note, sides what little he gave us already, and right now, every moment adds up. So let's squabble later and worry over getting the ship more topsy and less turvy."
She moves around the bridge, surveying the scene, then turns to Scooter and quietly asks "Did you see or hear anything useful in your walk?"
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jun 25, 2010 16:09:37 GMT -8
Dexter smiles sheepishly at the praise from the mechanic, and flinches somewhat at the appreciative pat from Tom, reorienting himself back in his comfort zone, which is approximately 4-5 feet away from anyone at all. When he speaks to his sister it's with a bit more vitality, though not much.
"Did you see or hear anything useful in your walk?"
"Um. Just, everyone's dead. Mechanic in the aft engine room hatchway. Guard up on the deck. He gave me this," showing her the Highwind. "Engines all sounded good to me, so the logical conclusion is the only major damage is that mess." He stares at Claire's shoes for a minute, then adds quietly: "Steering block is fluxxored," using a word he invented to mean exceedingly broken, damaged, or otherwise messed up. He couldn't help but snicker a bit at his own joke, which involves theoretical quantum physics and generally drew astonished, blank stares whenever he tried to explain it.
"Speaking of which..." Without finishing his sentence or looking at anyone else, he heads back into the bridge and starts assessing the damage, watching where the mechanic is going first and inferring her repair priorities and then finding ways he can assist, or address other repairs, without getting in her way. When he has a course of action more or less set, he places the pilfered toolkit from the first mechanic aside and pulls his own toolkit out and gets to work.
((It should be obvious to anyone watching him that the extra toolkit is left out for anyone else if they wanted to try to attempt repairs themselves, though he hasn't -- and wouldn't -- actually say as much.))
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Post by e on Jun 25, 2010 18:46:09 GMT -8
Since tools isn't her forte and it looks like the situation is under control on that front, Claire decides to take a stroll and makes her way around the ship, looking for munitions or anything else that'll sweeten her pockets, or her tongue. It's been what seems like ages since she tasted anything with a flavor...
She's planning to do a quick check of the various corpses on the upper levels and anything else she spies that looks useful or valuable and then swing back to the bridge.
((Claire's going to backtrack from the bridge, to D2C3, and then keep moving in a counter-clockwise circle back to the bridge))
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 25, 2010 19:04:36 GMT -8
((Round is closed ;D)) ((Claire I'll cover your looting on Monday))
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 25, 2010 19:07:17 GMT -8
Without much further ado, and with no small amount of haste, Dexter and Heloise get to work on the broken helm.. The first order of business is straightening the block itself, then prying off it's panels and having a loot at it's guts. Moments later they are pulling up the falsework of the deck of the compartment to expose the steering linkages, Bethesda's ligaments, and the root of the problem. The chains that connect the helm to the various control levers further back in the ship have snapped, victims of a hunk of shrapnel the size of a clipboard. Thankfully the very same twisted hunk of metal that snapped the chains also pinned them in place and kept the taut ends from being drawn away up the linkage canals, saving about four minutes hard labor and guesswork with a ironhook hauling them out again. With their task before them the two mechanics set to work, communicating in the terse, wordless language that techs tended to share, full of gestures and grunts and raps and taps against metal with tools that meant 'pull here' or 'tighten this'. There is a bit of a disconcerting moment when the piece of shrapnel (still warm to the touch) pinioning the steerrage chains is finally pried loose. The ships's controls slip free and the bow dips down below the level of the horizon, filling the windows with nothing but a view of the dark sea below, as the deck drops away quickly enough to lighten everyone in their boots. Then the chains snap taut with a -jang- like the strum of a massive harp and the ship levels out again, wallowing, groaning it's discontent as metal and wood flexes. The Helm wheel centers, twitches and quivers like a living thing, once again the reigns of the ship. Elle steps forward and takes the wheel smoothly in hand. The ship gentles as though reassured. What's left of the instruments indicate she is travelling ahead at half-power, approximately twenty knots, south by southwest as she is pulled from her endless turn. Altitude holds steady at four thousand feet. The Bethesda is yours. www.gravedust.com/sp/ilp/Bethesda01.pdf====================== Whew!! Well there we go. That about does it for the first part. We're taking a break over the weekend, during which time I'll try like hell to have a writeup finished that explains more about the stats and such you see on the Bethesda's sheet. We'll pick up with part 2 on Monday hopefully.. Hope y'all have a great weekend! ++CHARACTER UPKEEP++((All Characters get a +5 CP bonus for completing their objective! This is included in your totals.)) Dexter:+8 CP +Clevinger Highwind (Ammo 6/10) (Equipped in Back slot, let me know if you want to move it elsewhere) -1 Toolkit +2 Mechanical (-10 CP) Tom:+7 CP Marty:+7 CP Claire:+7 -1 ammo from Ladyfinger Helo:+8 +Clevinger Peacekeeper Ellie:+7 CP Kenneth:+6 CP
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 28, 2010 13:04:11 GMT -8
============================= ::PART TWO - PROBLEMS AND BIGGER ONES:: =============================
With Bethesda repaired, stabilized and hovering complacently, there is time to look over the vessel more completely. Tom's earlier search of the Captain reveals a large wad of cash in his pocket, though there is little else of interest on the man, save for his expensive (and relatively unbloodied) Captain's hat, which lay on the floor near his chair. Claire's winding path takes her by the corpses of the guard on the windy outer deck, whose pockets yield an extra magazine for the rifle that was in his posession, and a small amount of cash. The mechanic dead in the aft engine compartment is relieved of some additional cash, as well as a power tool set and accompanying miniature pressure tank. A general exploration of the cargo hold reveals that it's primary contents are a large number of canned goods, enough to last those currently aboard about a week. Another bin is discovered to contain less appetizing preserves, presumably to be fed to prisoners. There is enough of this ..stuff.. to last an additional 3 days, give or take. The Cannon in the rear of the ship is short a number of rounds from its maximum capacity, though it is likely they simply weren't loaded in the first place to save on weight. The corpse of the gunner in the cannon compartment is discovered to contain some cash, and a spare clip for his Solitaire. During the assay of the ship a cat appears, slinking out from it's apparent nest under the main boiler in the furnace compartment. He is a white and orange tabby, wise in years and large in girth. A collar around his neck proclaims him as Boris. He seems friendly, if a little crabby, and upon manifesting himself immediately commits himself to getting under the feet of anyone nearby and yowling hungrily. Or you assume it's hunger. But with cats it generally is. The most pressing discoveries however, is that the ship is down to about two days worth of fuel for it's furnace, and it's position is almost entirely unknown. Water stretches out in all directions to the horizon, and the navigational chart on the bridge is nowhere to be found, perhaps blown out of the compartment. The gimbal compass seems to work, (though it's glass housing is cracked and it leaks a thin trickle of oil) but it's of limited use without a position for reference. Further complicating things is the overcast night, making star-sighting impossible. The salient questions at this point seem to be; what to do with what's been found, what to do about the bodies that currently litter the ship, and, perhaps most importantly, where to and what next? A few hours after the collective survey, most of the Bethesda's new crew finds itself grouped near the bridge, so this might be as good a time as any to start discussing... ======== ((Claire it's possible that if you were sneaky enough people might not be aware of what you found on the upper decks, so you can try to keep it to yourself if you want.))
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Post by brendur on Jun 28, 2010 14:54:41 GMT -8
Tom had a hard time deciding whether he hated or loved this ship. He seen from both in and out of the cells, he could tell it was fickle, had an ugly temper, and wouldn't brook much insult. However at the end of the day, this ship was the only thing keeping them from drowning in the briny deep. Deep down it was infuriating, being popped from your cage only to find you're in another with an even better lock.
Now the news was out, two days fuel and they were sailing blind. Ah well, at least they wouldn't die of madness or hunger. This was of course provided they didn't kill one another within the two days that they had. It was true that most of the arguing had taken place under a more stressful time, but if there was anything a life of action had taught Tom, it was that stress and adrenaline just brought out something that was already there. How would everyone act once their bodies caught up to their minds? Once they were well rested and had time to realize that they were low on options.
Tom didn't dwell to long on it, if anything it just made the obvious more so. They needed to get to land, period. To do that they needed direction, in more ways than one. If this ship was to make it anywhere she'd need a crew pumping through her veins.
This was what went through his mind as he turned the Captain's hat over in his hand. He'd carefully removed it from the former Captain's head, afterwords binding the corpse up in some of the sheets from the bunk room. He'd cleaned the blood off of it as best he could, splashing a bit of the rum they'd found on the spots and rubbing at them with a rag. It would just get blood on it again he realized, but it had to look good for moments like these.
Looking around at the others gathered at the bridge, he placed the Captain's hat on the desk in the bridge with a strange sort of reverence.
"I think it goes unsaid that we all want to reach land. Certainly didn't help get this bird flappin right only to have her crash on a count oh an empty stomach. That bein said, we need to get our wits about us, start actin like sailors instead oh jail birds. I think that requires we elect a Captain, even iffin they're only Captain until we reach land."
( Would also like to expend 15 CP to bump my sapping +3)
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Post by e on Jun 28, 2010 15:31:54 GMT -8
Claire stuffs the cash into the nethers of her bag on her way back toward the bridge. She enters quietly, her eyes resting on each of her shipmates for a moment. She wonders what secrets they each might hold and what kind of alchemy could be put together with this particular group of persons. She had faith aplenty they could figure out where this bird had migrated and how to put down snug. She figured the next question, that kept knocking into her thoughts, the one about whether they were now hunted as fugitives and shipjackers, was likely to be a real test.
She crouches in a corner of the space where most of the people are gathered, setting the rest of the spoils (pressure tank and rifle magazine) in front of the others. "Here are a few odds and ends I collected, if anyone can find a use for 'em."
She turns and watches Tom decorously placing the Captain's hat down on the desk and speaking. "I think it goes unsaid that we all want to reach land. Certainly didn't help get this bird flappin right only to have her crash on a count oh an empty stomach. That bein said, we need to get our wits about us, start actin like sailors instead oh jail birds. I think that requires we elect a Captain, even iffin they're only Captain until we reach land."[/color]
Claire takes a few quick steps toward the center of the room, to be heard better by all. "Fine by me. I'm of the same mind as you, Tom, 'bout puttin' down soon, but I also think I'd like to get these bodies outta the way before they start crawlin' around."
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jun 28, 2010 16:22:31 GMT -8
As soon as the cat makes his appearance, Dexter turns all his attention to the feline, grabbing a bowl and can opener from the kitchen and one of the cans of....whatever it is....from the cargo hold. If the cat decided he wasn't too good for it, that would at least make one crew member on the ship and somewhat less wasted space (or, alternately, a lot of wasted space solely for cat food). He couldn't imagine the original crew feeding the cat better than the prisoners, but stranger things...
After attending to Boris, Dexter finds a place on the floor near (but not too near) the rest of the group and starts fiddling with the gun he found, first removing the half-empty magazine, and then finding the bolts and screws and mechanisms that bind it together and make it work.
Dexter begins his running self-dialog shortly after Tom begins speaking...
"I think it goes unsaid that we all want to reach land. Certainly didn't help get this bird flappin right only to have her crash on a count oh an empty stomach. That bein said, we need to get our wits about us, start actin like sailors instead oh jail birds. I think that requires we elect a Captain, even iffin they're only Captain until we reach land."
Anyone close enough to Scooter would hear him muttering "I vote for an anarcho-syndicalist collective, run by a council where all decisions must be ratified by a consensus..." He snickers quietly. "Of course that couldn't practically work on an air vessel...we, of course must be ruled by a dictatorship. But surely we are civilized individuals, not crass pirates, above being ruled by fear and intimidation. Or, conversely, smiles and well-wishes..." He looks up for a moment at the rest of the group, then quickly darts his eyes down and away back to the gun he's fiddling with in his lap.
"Fine by me. I'm of the same mind as you, Tom, 'bout puttin' down soon, but I also think I'd like to get these bodies out before they start crawlin' away."
"Throw them out the cargo bay," he mutters, still under his breath. Then, realizing the rest of the group probably didn't hear him he raises his voice just enough for the rest of the crew to hear him. "Throw them out the cargo bay. I'm sure I can get that latch to open and it would be easier than dragging them to the top deck, and less messy than tossing them out the gaping hole where the windscreen used to be." He shrugs. "Unless anyone has a problem leaving a trail of bodies behind us." He pauses for a moment. "Or we might be able to put them in the furnace. I didn't look at them too close but if the firebox opening is too small, we'd need to chop them up first, of course..." He shoots a glance at Kenneth looming nearby, then back at his gun. Bored with his gun he mutters, "I wonder what's in these lockers," and starts opening each one in turn and examining the contents.
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kraftykate
Junior Member
Dr. David Sunday
Posts: 90
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Post by kraftykate on Jun 28, 2010 17:15:52 GMT -8
Now that everything had calmed down, Heloise is rather quiet and listens to the others as they talk about what needed to be done. After getting out of the prison jumpsuit and into her normal clothes she felt a bit more in her element and the thrumming of the engines worked like a tonic. While sitting down, her head is back against the wall, and her eyes are closed.
"I think it goes unsaid that we all want to reach land. Certainly didn't help get this bird flappin right only to have her crash on a count oh an empty stomach. That bein said, we need to get our wits about us, start actin like sailors instead oh jail birds. I think that requires we elect a Captain, even iffin they're only Captain until we reach land."
This brought a small grin to her face. What fun that would be. Getting all these convicts to name a captain could be worse than dealing with the guards. A lot worse. This didn't get her to open her eyes, but the muttering of the kid did.
"I vote for an anarcho-syndicalist collective, run by a council where all decisions must be ratified by a consensus..." He snickers quietly. "Of course that couldn't practically work on an air vessel...we, of course must be ruled by a dictatorship. But surely we are civilized individuals, not crass pirates, above being ruled by fear and intimidation. Or, conversely, smiles and well-wishes..."
Who talks like that? Heloise doesn't know if his mother didn't hug him enough or if he was just touched in the head.
"Throw them out the cargo bay," he mutters, still under his breath. Then, realizing the rest of the group probably didn't hear him he raises his voice just enough for the rest of the crew to hear him. "Throw them out the cargo bay. I'm sure I can get that latch to open and it would be easier than dragging them to the top deck, and less messy than tossing them out the gaping hole where the windscreen used to be." He shrugs. "Unless anyone has a problem leaving a trail of bodies behind us." He pauses for a moment. "Or we might be able to put them in the furnace. I didn't look at them too close but if the firebox opening is too small, we'd need to chop them up first, of course..." He shoots a glance at Kenneth looming nearby, then back at his gun. Bored with his gun he mutters, "I wonder what's in these lockers," and starts opening each one in turn and examining the contents.
Yeah, Heloise thinks he's definitely touched, but damn it he's got smarts. "Hey. Hey kid. Let's you and me go look for a map. No one leaves port with just one, so there's got to be another around someplace." She stands up and gives Scooter a strange appraising look. "If you have some sort of encyclopedia in your head to start talkin about anarcho council whatever, than maybe you can help me figure out with way to point this girl. I'm willin to bet they loaded enough fuel for a one-way trip. So judging by the what we have left, going forward and not going back is the way to go. We have a compass, so we can at least get a general direction, and I'm also willing to bet they use a standard route. Beats burning fuel and going no where. What do you say?"
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Post by brendur on Jun 28, 2010 17:19:00 GMT -8
Tom nods with Claire as she mentions the bodies, seeming to agree with her until her brother speaks up.
"Throw them out the cargo bay. I'm sure I can get that latch to open and it would be easier than dragging them to the top deck, and less messy than tossing them out the gaping hole where the windscreen used to be." He shrugs. "Unless anyone has a problem leaving a trail of bodies behind us.He pauses for a moment. "Or we might be able to put them in the furnace. I didn't look at them too close but if the firebox opening is too small, we'd need to chop them up first, of course..." "
His eyes suddenly narrow as he snaps at the mouse-like fellow, pounding the desk with his hand. "To blazes with that! Those men were sailors! They deserve a sailor's burial at sea!"
He suddenly seems to realize he's shouting, coughing into his hand he settles back down. "They need a Captain to say a few words oer them afore they're committed to the sea. They earned that much at least. All the more reason why we aught settle up on who's leadin afore we do anythin else."
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 28, 2010 17:55:52 GMT -8
Boris the Cat peers at the offered foodstuff fora moment, sniffing it quizically for a moment, before giving the feline equicvalent of a shrug and lapping it down perched and purring over the tin as he does so. Once finished he licks his paws contentedly until distracted by a passing air molecule and wanders off somewhere towards the aft of the ship.
Dexter's rummage through the lockers reveals piles of personal effects, changes of clothes, a few books and diaries, one binder full of risque lithograph prints, some small demnominations of obscure foreign currency (Dexter being Dexter, he knows the rate of exchange makes them all but worthless) but little else of value, withthe exception of a bin full of rolled up maps jammed in to the back of one.. Upon inspection they mostly turn out to be air maps and directions to landing grounds in various cities and ports, but eventually he finds one that covers a wider area, countries and continents demarcated in little black lines.
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jun 28, 2010 18:10:14 GMT -8
Dexter glances briefly at Tom's fist as it strikes the table and shrugs. He turns to the lockers, ravenously hording the books and diaries and stashing them in his leather bag. He leaves everything else until he discovers the maps. "Hmph," he says and turns to Helouise. "You mean a map like this?" holding out the most promising of the air maps.
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 28, 2010 19:36:37 GMT -8
((Closing out the round for tonight. Feel free to continue tomorrow whenever you like as soon as the summary's up. ))
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 28, 2010 20:04:29 GMT -8
======================================================= ((Well.. in a tragic lack of togetherness, I forgot to put in stats for two items I made for the last loot roll, the Aircrank (Belt)(I think I called this the wrong thing, also. -_-) and 200 PSI Pressure tank (Belt) this has been rectified. Also stats for the Captain's Hat are in. e, if this changes what you want to do with the items in question, let me know. ::::CHARACTER UPKEEP::::Tom:+3 CP +$152 +3 Sapping Stat (-15CP) Claire+2 CP +$69 +Aircrank (You didn't mention dropping it, so I'll assume you held onto it.) Dexter+3 CP +Boris' Favor (+1 to all rolls next round. ) Heloise:+3 CP
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Khrys
Full Member
Posts: 130
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Post by Khrys on Jun 29, 2010 13:51:02 GMT -8
Kenneth sat back as discussion was made on what to do and where to go. It was obvious that there would be too many cooks in the kitchen if anyone wanted to assume authority. Logic dictated that he do what he normally would had this entire fiasco never come about: be useful to everyone so that when it was balls-to-the-wall, he would be the fragger and not the fraggee. It was time to volunteer.
"I will clean up the mess of the previous crew. If anyone wishes to give a soul's peace prayer to any of them, you have six hours before I start walking the decks and collecting them for burning one by one. The task will be done in a day, perhaps day-and-a-half."
He looked startled for a moment as his hands stopped sliding across his huge belly and touched upon the frying pan belted at his waist.
"Oh, and if you'd like some food, real food and not that grey swill, that is what will be served in three hours. Simply present yourself in the galley."
Turning around, he took his travel bag of gear and headed for the bunk that was his before the incarceration. He'd spend 10 minutes establishing it as his spot and then get to work immediately in the kitchen. It was time to ingratiate the appetites of this motley crew and assure himself some safety and stability while they danced for positions of power.
The bodies of the prior crew were unappetizing, laying out in the open, but he could mop everything up after he'd filled their bellies with tastier swill than what they'd been experiencing.
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kraftykate
Junior Member
Dr. David Sunday
Posts: 90
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Post by kraftykate on Jun 29, 2010 19:20:48 GMT -8
"To blazes with that! Those men were sailors! They deserve a sailor's burial at sea!"
Heloise gives a quick glance at Tom.
"They need a Captain to say a few words oer them afore they're committed to the sea. They earned that much at least. All the more reason why we aught settle up on who's leadin afore we do anythin else."
"I don't know about captains, but if you've got the notion to give 'em a burial, then you can play chaplain." Heloise gets a bit of a frown on her face. She hopes someone will step up and claim to be some sort of captain because she thinks dealing with all these yahoos is a bit of a chore. It's then that Scooter speaks up.
"Hmph," he says and turns to Heloise. "You mean a map like this?"
"Yes. A map exactly like that one. Judging by airspeed, fuel spent, fuel we have left, and using the compass, we should gave a good idea of where we are and where we can go." While the wheels turned and potential mistakes are made, the large cook speaks up.
"I will clean up the mess of the previous crew. If anyone wishes to give a soul's peace prayer to any of them, you have six hours before I start walking the decks and collecting them for burning one by one. The task will be done in a day, perhaps day-and-a-half."
She mutters quietly. "See, most folks here have brains. We don't really need a captain of this keeps up." This of course was an argument to herself against needing a captain for the people aboard and an argument that they were in fact not yahoos.
Kenneth speaks again, "Oh, and if you'd like some food, real food and not that grey swill, that is what will be served in three hours. Simply present yourself in the galley."
All thoughts broke in her mind and one question was spoken aloud as the cook left to begin what he does best. "Can we have pie for dessert?"
((Spend 20 CP for +4 Mechanical))
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Post by e on Jun 29, 2010 20:29:44 GMT -8
((Yes, Claire bagged the aircrank.))
Claire frowns at Tom's outburst directed at Scooter. She's never been pleased to tolerate others pestering her younger brother, and has been drawing lines around him since the two of them were still young'uns and she'd round the corner at the schoolhouse to find Dex on the ground covered in dirt and grease from yet another spontaneous invention attempt (some of them had actually turned out fairly sterling like the extending-bookgrappler.) The other children would be tossing rocks closer and closer to where Dex was huddled on the ground and laughing at the spectacle. She raises her eyes, deciding it best to speak about her little brother sooner rather than later.
She looks around the room intently. "Listen, Dex--Scooter here is my brother and he is a bit genius and he is also a bit, well, nonsensical. When he's talkin' to himself, you can listen, but don't stake oceans on what he's muttering. It could be a salvation or it could be whimsy, and sometimes even tomfoolery. But, just 'cause he's peculiar doesn't mean anyone can go and shout at him because of it. I look after him a bit and I am fair certain you all will be honorable enough to show fairness." She shifts her weight and smiles confidently at the others.
"I don't have any hankering of my own to say words over those boys." She nods in the direction of the nearest guard. "But I won't stand in the way of anyone who does. Who do you fancy would look best in that captains topper Tom?"
She turns when she hears a map has been dug out of the ships belly.
"Yes. A map exactly like that one. Judging by airspeed, fuel spent, fuel we have left, and using the compass, we should gave a good idea of where we are and where we can go."
"I have some fair interest in maps, and I might be of help in ferreting out our current course." Claire steps closer to Heloise and studies the map with the mechanic.
A little later she hears Kenneth mentioning something about cleaning up the mess and making a meal. Before Claire can thank their stomachs' savior, Heloise bursts out with "Can we have pie for dessert?" Claire grins widely at the mechanic and then at Kenneth. "What an amazing notion. I think we could all do with some pie or any other food with a name. A mighty thanks to you, friend, for knowing your way around a kitchen! It truly is a rich skill to have in a place like this. "
((Spending 15cp for +3 Impress))
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jun 29, 2010 20:52:47 GMT -8
((gah! I for one didn't realize (until just now) that there wasn't another GM post coming >.< misread your post, or misinterpreted, or mis...something...))
Dexter leaves the map with Claire and the mechanic when he spies the Aircrank Claire lifted from the mechanic in the aft engine in her bag. His eyes flit from the rucksack to the pressure tank on the table and he gives a small squeal of delight as he appropriates the Aircrank out of her belt and attaches the pressure tank. Grinning like a boy with a cookie jar he pulls the trigger a few times and the crank gives a satisfying whrizzz in response. He squirrels the aircrank away in his belt and pats it fondly, then collects his books, the rifle he took from the guard (leaving the half-empty magazine distended on the floor), and scurries off downstairs to his former cell with the spoils.
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 29, 2010 22:41:20 GMT -8
(( Nope, no posties from me needed. ^^ So long as everyone is chatting away in the compartment I don't have much to do, you're driving the story yourselves for the moment, and doing a great job of it, I might add. So feel free to post as often as you want till I tell you you need to take a halt for whatever reason. In other news: Del (Marty) is on vacation this week, as he mentioned, and Dani I guess is running a little short on time to play. In Del's case we can just say he's nowhere to be found at the moment, but since Elle is sort of the pilot, I'll be running her character until I can nudge her out of the story. She'll most likely remanifest when Dani has the time to play again. I'll start posting as her tomorrow. Oh.. and the Aircrank you picked up runs off pressure from the miniature pressure bottle, as I'm sure you've figured out. The bottle itself can be recharged in the Pressure compartment. Takes a full round to do so in combat. =============================== :::CHARACTER UPKEEP::::Kenneth:+2CP Heloise: +2CP +4 Mechanical stat (-20CP) Claire:+3 CP -Aircrank +3 Impress Stat (-15CP) Dexter:+2 CP +Aircrank +200 Psi Pressure tank (...I guess?) -1 C.Highwind Reload (leaving the weapon w/o ammo.. Is that corrrect?) I'm not sure if you intended to pick up the pressure bottle as well, but the Aircrank needs it to run.. so I stuffed it in Dex's Leather Bag. It'd need to be on his belt in order to work with the crank, though. --- I think in the future when players are dealing with picking up and.or storing items, it would probably be best to include a line at the end that says specifically what they're doing and where it goes, just so I don't have to parse through playtext and guess what peeps are picking up and/or want to put things. i.e: (Picks up XXXXX, stores it in Backpack, after moving YYYY from the Backpack to his Belt (center) Would probabaly help keep things organized a bit better. Whew. Anyway. Looking forward to tomorrow.
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jun 30, 2010 5:32:51 GMT -8
((Yep, picked up the pressure bottle and attached it to the Aircrank, took the gun but left the reload (although, it's not a full clip, as I recall). Will start doing summary at the end. Also, not sure if you've been keeping up but I've been updating Dexter's and Claire's PDF character sheets each round after the summary goes up and uploading them, so they should be in some form of current in terms of where stuff is.))
((Spending 10CP for +2 Tinkering))
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Post by brendur on Jun 30, 2010 8:37:11 GMT -8
Tom listened to Claire as she rattled on about her brother, stealing a glance at the kid grinning over a bit of the machinery he'd found. He'd suspected something was off about him, but it was hard to tell if he was crazy or just one of those odd scholars from the many colleges popping up all over the world. He wouldn't deny scooter was smart, he just hoped he could reign in those brains when it came time to do so.
"Alright, alright, so his gears ain't turnin right. I won't hassle him fer it."
"I don't have any hankering of my own to say words over those boys." She nods in the direction of the nearest guard. "But I won't stand in the way of anyone who does. Who do you fancy would look best in that captains topper Tom?"
Tom's mouth turned to the side in thought as he gave those gathered in the bridge a glance each in turn. Well Scooter was right out he could tell that much. The large mountain of surly as well, cooks were temperamental, and captains had to be level headed. Most of the others didn't seem to even want to be Captain though, and he sure as hell didn't want the job, sides he didn't even know all that much about captaining. Blinking that awful grin of his suddenly popped onto his face.
"Tell ye folks what, since I seem to be the only one interested in sendin the boys what came afore us off right. I'll busy meself with gettin the bodies bound up to cargo and ready fer a burial. As fer this hat?"
He scooped up the hat, showing it to everyone present. Then he stuffed it in his rucksack, keeping his hand in there for a moment before gingerly pulling out the grenade he had tucked away in there.
"It's going in my pack...with this. Old salt and pepper grenade that I've had with me since I started sailin, tis older than my career and twice as unhappy. S'already started to sweat nitro-glycerin and it's probably as temperamental as yer grandmothers stomach on a diet oh rock salt. Any one oh ye bastard's crazy enough to take this hat from my pack, well then I'll call ye Captain."
He sets the grenade back in the pack and sets the pack back over his shoulder still grinning like a lunatic.
"We don't have a captain in 5 hours, well I'll set the old boys out to sea m'self with a few words, tis less than they deserve though. N'tis bad luck to take a ship from sailors what haven't gotten their rewards, ye folks want a smooth sail ye'd best start observing things like that."
With that he heads for the door, dragging the corpse of the Captain with him as he goes. When he gets to the stairs he calls down after Kenneth.
"And I'm with the mechanic, Pie in the sky!"
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Post by Gravedust on Jun 30, 2010 9:55:52 GMT -8
In the bridge, Elle makes another minute turn on one of the black knobs on the control panel next to the helm. Somewhere above, the forward rotor stem adjusts itself by about a quarter of a degree. Elle releases the control wheel and steps back, eyeing the gimbal compass critically. Aside from the slight vibration from the ship itself, it holds rock-steady, it's horizon-ring perfectly centered.
She sighs, rubbing her neck. Finally. It had taken forever to get the ship trimmed to hover hands-off for even a few minutes. And a few minutes was all it would probably stay trimmed for, the poor girl was old enough to have flown with her grandmother aboard, and ships that aged tended to have picked up quite a lot of 'personality'. Bethesda was certainly no different.
Still, a few hours worth of minor adjustments had bought her some time away from the wheel and out of the cold, windy bridge.
Stretching her arms, she headed back into the bunk area, arriving in time to catch the majority of Tom's speech. As he makes his exit she peers at the satchel. "I'd have a mind to try my hand that that..." She sighs. "But the old girl needs some fair share of coddling to stay aloft, and I don't see myself having much time for anything but that."
She drums her fingers for a moment then heads for the lockers, selecting and piling on a few extra layers of clothing.
"...Going to be a cold night up front, most like. Little breezy." She winks. "Come see me when you've worked out a heading." She pokes her belly. "And some palatable food would be nice, when it's done."
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jun 30, 2010 11:22:18 GMT -8
Downstairs, Dexter busies himself by beginning preparations in transforming his former cell into a laboratory.
((No Dexter's Lab comments, please, that's why he's nicknamed Scooter ;p))
This involves, first, choosing one cell to use as storage, and begins piling the paper-thin mattresses they were given in Viktor's cell. Next, Dexter takes the Aircrank and crafts a socket into which a Pressure Tank could be mounted.
((uses Tinker to build Autocrank, stats below: Name: Autocrank Slot: Belt Bonus: (+5 Activated Mechanical/Repair (5 prs) (20 Pressure) Difficulty: 25 Value: 140 Size: 3 Accessories: Power-Tool(5)(Pressure Tank(20)) Description: Similar to an Aircrank an Autocrank features a socket into which a pressure tank can be mounted or unmounted, making the tool more nimble and easier to carry. ))
He heads to the cargo bay and grabs the wooden crates that were formerly used to store their personal effects. The sound of drilling and hammering wafts abovedecks as he builds a makeshift workbench and chair out of pieces of the old crates reinforced with metal from the bedframes in the cells. When he's done with the workbench and the chair, he adds a cushion to the chair by ripping open a mattress, tearing some fabric (slightly larger than the seat of the chair) and some padding from the mattress and drilling the fabric over the padding onto the seat of the chair.
This accomplished, he places the rifle on the workbench, but before starting on that, he collects (and in many cases, unbolts and disassembles) any additional scrap metal from the cells and collects them in the cell adjacent to Viktor's.
When he's done, he heads back upstairs to the bridge. ((This should keep him occupied until dinner -- or whatever meal -- is served.))
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