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Post by Gravedust on Jul 12, 2010 8:30:36 GMT -8
((Y'all's turn, if you're wondering. I'll tally up friday's and today's CP and other stuff at the end of today.))
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Post by DeleriusDruid on Jul 12, 2010 8:34:03 GMT -8
As Rick turns to begin walking south, he catches a glimpse of Marty about a dozen feet away and jumps back with a cry of surprise.
"Put yer hands up ye slimy git! You've gone and made a real mess of all this. You'd better be tellin' me what I want or I'll put ye out of yer miserable existence. Even though you're hardly worth the trouble.
Yer danged ship be over thar blowin' up my ship by the sound of it, and I want to know why you're still standin' here like an idiot. Why did they leave ya?"
((Attempt Intimidate with my gun. If he makes any kind of aggressive move or tries to run I will shoot))
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jul 12, 2010 8:48:32 GMT -8
As soon as the words "circuit-key" fall across Emiliana's lips, Dexter's brain -- and his tongue -- begins working, slowly building up momentum (and volume) from silent, mouthed utterances, to a normal speaking voice, to almost shouting. The tail end -- what anyone standing nearby could hear -- was this: "...that makes a switch approximately 33.42% more likely to be successful than a snatch..." His eyes fix on Emiliana's. "Can I have your key?" Seeing the credulous look he gets in response, he tries to rephrase the question. "Do you know what the second key looks like? Are the keys identical?"
After a few moments he says again "...and...can I have your key? To borrow I mean. I'll give it back when I'm done."
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Post by Gravedust on Jul 12, 2010 10:47:08 GMT -8
On the beach to the north, Rick turns white, dropping his gun into the sand before putting his hands on his head...
"It.. We.. ah.. We heard a ship land.. Weren't sure who it was... So Captain had the ship made ready to fly, and sent Rackman and I out to see what was going on. .. Didn't want to move if we didnt' have to.. When they heard shots they must have figured it was.. Well who knows.. Concordiat marines or something.. But they picked up and moved, as planned... I just... Didn't make it back fast enough. ...Captain said no matter who or what it was she'd take a shot at them for 'mucking up her day' ...So I guess that's what she did." Rick's eyes shift from the gunbarrel to Marty's face in a nervous cycle. "...So who are you, anyway?"
-- Meanwhile, to the south:
"...and...can I have your key? To borrow I mean. I'll give it back when I'm done."
"No ye can't, and in fact I couldn't think of a stupider thing I could possibly do under the circumstances. ..If yer thinkin 'a makin a nother half yerself.. No.. It's more'n complex enough ta keep yeh guessin at it fer years, 'n even then ye'd never know it ye'd got it right 'till yeh stuck it in and got blown ta shit fer yer trouble. I've had me own man looking at it fer months. We either go in with the original thing, or we dig. One way'r th' other."
"What stopped ye from makin a crater oh the man and takin it fer yerself?"
Emillianna's lips quirk with irritation. "Well fer one 'es not a moron, he's hidden the damned thing. Fer second... He's the original Captain, so a 'lil bit of respect is deserved." She sighs. " 'An he's my damned father, so. 'm not just gonna go bustin' 'im up."
She pauses a moment levelling a glare at each member of the crew.
"'An that being the case.. If any of ye harms one single hair on 'is head. ye'll live out th' rest of yer long, miserable lives down in me bilge, without arms 'r legs, 'r eyes, 'n without even a tongue ta bite off 'n kill yerself. Just a sack 'a meat that gets fed through a tube, 'n tries ta scream from time to time, but can't."
Her eye twitches with nearly palpable malice. "Think long 'n hard on that."
-------------------
((Should have mentioned it before: circuit-keys are not keys in any conventional sense.. They are simple circuit boards sandwiched between plates of metal or wood, with connections that are designed to line up with terminals inside whatever machine they are designed to unlock. Each lead requires the correct voltage and current direction to work. They usually include a number of fake connections as well, making them difficult to forge or copy, since the only way to tell which leads are real or not is to crack the thing open, thereby breaking it. To make life more interesting, many key systems are rigged so if the wrong thing is input, then something generally terrible and trap-like happens instead. In this case the circuit key is divided into two halves which must be used together. (you connect the two halves like bookends then put them into the door))
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jul 12, 2010 10:56:50 GMT -8
"No ye can't, and in fact I couldn't think of a stupider thing I could possibly do under the circumstances. ..If yer thinkin 'a makin a nother half yerself.. No.. It's more'n complex enough ta keep yeh guessin at it fer years, 'n even then ye'd never know it ye'd got it right 'till yeh stuck it in and got blown ta shit fer yer trouble. I've had me own man looking at it fer months. We either go in with the original thing, or we dig. One way'r th' other."
Dexter rolls his eyes in exasperation. He glances at his sister once and then appears to talk to his boots, shifting his weight uncomfortably and not meeting Stormchild's Captain's stare. "Pppphhhhhbbbbttt! Of course I'm not thinking of making another half myself. That would be imbecilic. I only thought maybe we could do a swap, if we needed to, steal his key and leave a duplicate in its place. By the time he realizes it's a fake we'd be long gone. Or else forging a copy of yours to get him to warm up to us enough to show us his half..."
((As a side note, I was never intending to make an actual, usable copy, only a replica. Though the extra info about circuit keys just works even better into my clever plan, mwahahahahaha ;D))
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Post by DeleriusDruid on Jul 12, 2010 11:23:28 GMT -8
"...So who are you, anyway?"
Marty gave Rick a long, grim look. He thought quickly, weighing his options.
Before on the beach, it had seemed too easy. An old cripple and this little kid seemed easy targets, easy prey. But because they were on patrol, they had seemed almost.. military. And military implied Concordiat, the enemy. Marty hadn't considered that they weren't in any sort of uniform, and these fools wouldn't be accepted into any military in the first place. And then the "easy" prey had run back for help.. and found mother bear. Now they were outclassed, outgunned, and in a very tight spot. It was not good to appear threatening to the greater power. Better to lie low, appear weak, then escape later.
Marty slowly lowered his gun to waist level, but did not move his finger from the trigger.
"No, we ain't the Concordiat. Though that's the ship we came in on. We were prisoners, broke loose and commandeered the ship fer ourselves. Now we're just tryin' to find fuel, tryin' to get back to where we was."
Marty paused, looking away for a moment. "You can call me Grimshot."
Then Marty began walking south, back to the beach and the Bethesda, or what was left of it.
"If'n you think yer old friend Rackman be worth savin', we best go see what we can do fer him," Marty called back to Rick.
And it might be the only thing that saves my neck, Marty thought to himself.
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Post by e on Jul 12, 2010 11:46:37 GMT -8
Claire listens to Emillianna's tale of the six in rapt attention. "Ye see where I'm goin' with this?" Claire's been countin' the ships as Stormchild's captain mentions them and her eyes are widened with realization, and interest before Emillianna says more. She nods minutely to herself as Emillianna continues on about Lucifer, and then the key.
"But don't be gettin' any extravagant ideas of yer worth, now. Like I said, I'm content ta dig if I have ta."
Claire responds only by lookin' the taller woman directly in the eye, her face as still as can be.
As the questions start acomin' from all directions, she cocks her head to the side, eyes off in the distance, contemplating the situation.
"'Ere's what I'm partial to havin' filled in, if ye want us to stand a chance in procurin' that key... well, portion of the key, anyhow. We need to know all n'around 'bout the man. Your ol' pa, ye say Emillianna... so's ye should be more'n able to fill us in plenty an' give us a bit more luck in the attempt."
Claire shifts her weight and narrows her eyes in concentration. "What's he do? What makes 'im tick? Got hisself a faction? How long 'as it been since ye've talked over the key with 'im? Is he plannin' to get into Lucifer 'imself or just doesn't wanna see you on that bridge?"
She stops, puttin' her hands on her hips and smiles. "If I make myself up as a helpless lil thing, will he invite me in fer hardtack?" She laughs a short second.
Claire would much prefer to get out of the rain... her gun is gettin' wet fer cryin' aloud, and it'd be somethin' of a comfort to not have to keep lookin' to the turrets atop Stormchild and wait for 'em to wave around more. She decides that it'd be safest in interest of not pushin' the one-eyed captain further toward violence to invite 'em into the Bethesda rather than askin' for a tour of Stormchild.
"We might get ourselves an' our sundries outta the rain while we talk over it more. Ye can all have a peek round the inside o' a Concordian prison tub if ye'd like." She waves toward the Bethesda, taking a step in that direction. "C'mon. Our cook 'ere'll be plenty pleased to exhibit his skills in the kitchen, eh Kenneth? This man 'ere makes a damn tasty dumpling, we've found."
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Post by brendur on Jul 12, 2010 12:20:14 GMT -8
Tom blinked at the revelation that the old Captain was Ema's father, wondering briefly if the Stormchilde was her inheritance or her ill-gotten gains. Hard to tell with her, could easily be both while explaining her current situation well enough. Pirates did tend to have strange relationships with their parents, his own had sworn to shoot him if he ever stepped foot on family land again. Didn't stop his siblings from having a pint waiting for him when he dropped by on occasion.
He hazarded another question. "Ye mind iffin I ask yer father's name?"
Then as an after thought he turned his eyes to Claire.
"Might also be prudent to send someone out to see iffin there were any survivors oh Marty's bout oh insanity....courtesy to good Captain Ema here..."
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Post by Gravedust on Jul 12, 2010 13:55:43 GMT -8
"We might get ourselves an' our sundries outta the rain while we talk over it more. Ye can all have a peek round the inside o' a Concordian prison tub if ye'd like."
Emillianna grins. "That's half a good idea. We ought get 'th hell outta th' weather, yeh.. Get'n dark soon anyhow. But we shouldn't leave th' kids parked next'ta each other like so.. If Max- That's his name, mind. Maximillian. -An yeh, he thinks he has a sense'a humor.-" She spits.
"Anyway if Max sees us together he'll know we're workin' together and that'll sink ye, most like.. I'll drive up th' coast'n park Stormy back where I had 'er. When yer ready ye can walk up th' beach ta us 'n we can have the rest'a this chat. There'll be plenty ta tell ye. Oh.. an if ye have a rattle-pan, be sure ta bring 'im.. Haven't had a decent meal in weeks."
...'f it ever comes up what happened on 'th beach here, just say I flew in, put a couple'a shots in yer boat 'n then left fer no reason. ...Sounds enough like me ta pass fer truth." She chuckles.
"As fer Rackman..." She shrugs. "I'll scoop 'im up on th' way back, if he's still lifelike."
---
Further up the beach, Rick watches Marty as he moves south, chewing on his lower lip. A few times he starts forward a few steps, but always he halts, hands under his armpits. After Marty is a few dozen yards distant, Rick stoops and retrieves his gun from the ground, gingerly brushing some of the sand off of it. Wanting to get more of the grit out he pops the cylinder catch and groans as the bullets tumble out of their chambers into the sand. With a sigh he sits down in the sand and drops his head into his hands.
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Khrys
Full Member
Posts: 130
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Post by Khrys on Jul 12, 2010 20:17:50 GMT -8
Kenneth kept his face flat and emotionless as always, despite Claire's suggestion that he prepare the galley for a meal. A galley that currently was low on food stock.
Trusting in his appearance to convey harmlessness, he made a huffing noise out his nostrils and turned his back on the larger-than-life Emillianna and her rattle-bang gun ship. He grunted, "Bother me in twenty minutes, you get beans. Stay out of the galley instead of getting underfoot and I'll have barbque ready in an hour." Unless a blunderbuss was cocked at him, he'd ascend into Bethesda, heading to it's dark interior to begin work.
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Post by e on Jul 12, 2010 20:44:02 GMT -8
"Might also be prudent to send someone out to see iffin there were any survivors oh Marty's bout oh insanity....courtesy to good Captain Ema here..."
Claire nods in agreement with Tom. "Yep, whyn't ye go look for Marty. Make sure he's not makin' hisself more harebrained commotion. If ye want company, I'm fair certain there's someone else 'ere itchin' to have a word with our defector."
She turns back to the conversation with Emillianna.
"When yer ready ye can walk up th' beach ta us 'n we can have the rest'a this chat. There'll be plenty ta tell ye. Oh.. an if ye have a rattle-pan, be sure ta bring 'im.. Haven't had a decent meal in weeks."
Claire smiles broadly at Emillianna. "Arrite then, we'll be knockin' at yer entryway in a wee bit, an' we all might just get a bite o' dumplin' this fine evenin'."
She leans over to pick up her rucksack outta the sand and heads inside the Bethesda, tossin' her head toward the hatch to indicate her companions should follow her inside.
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kraftykate
Junior Member
Dr. David Sunday
Posts: 90
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Post by kraftykate on Jul 12, 2010 20:59:46 GMT -8
Now that things had settled down a tad, Heloise decides to head outside, grab her gun and secure it in her cargo pants. "I'll clean it later..." she mutters, "lot more interesting things going on."
Once inside, she finds the top-heavy captain and does her best to strike up a conversation in her own very special way. "Say Captain Em, I'm Heloise Watson of the Watson Engineering Works and would love a chance to see the belly of one of the Six. Grandad Watson used to tell me stories and I'd give at least two of my crewmates to get even a peak under Lucifer's skirt." Her eyes are sparkling like a kid who thinks they can peak at their birthday presents. "Matter of fact, I wouldn't mind getting my head under Stormchild's petticoat either. Do you..." Heloise begins to rattle on about the model of Stormchild and about modifications that may have been done or could be done. Wild gesticulation gives a hint at wheels in her mind are working at a pace usually reserved for those in love or gone mad. Anyone who isn't an engineer might find her to be just another red-head who won't shut-up with the damned foreign language.
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Post by Gravedust on Jul 12, 2010 21:55:54 GMT -8
"Arrite then, we'll be knockin' at yer entryway in a wee bit, an' we all might just get a bite o' dumplin' this fine evenin'." Emillianna grins. "Sounds a bit like a plan, yeh? Arrite.. Be seein' yeh soon, then." She motions for her crew to clamber back aboard the Stormchild, and turns to go herself when she's intercepted by Heloise and stands blinking under her barrage of questions and comments for a good twenty seconds before reaching out and flicking her squarely on the nose with a finger. "Oi... I don't know much about 'th 'Child other'n she's the one ship I haven't had buckle out from under me yet. Ye want ta know more ye can talk ta my mechanic Allan. ...An' good luck to ya on that count." She snickers. "...On th' subject of 'th Lucifer.. If ye'r in th' right place at the right time, maybe ye'll get yer chance." With that she turns on her heel and walks back to the Stormchild, the heavy cargo door swinging up even as she climbs on. A few moments later the rear rotor and forward airjets begin to spin up. A few moments after that Emillianna appears on deck from the bridge hatchway grinning madly, with a double armfull of folded umbrellas. "Remember ta stay dry, kiddies!" She howls laughter over the increasing engine noise and flings the armload overboard and towards the Bethesda. Most make it into the sand but one or two fall into the rotor arc of the rear engine and are smashed to splinters and tatters of canvas, one half one one knocked clear into the treeline by one of the rotorblades, prompting a fresh gale of laughter from Stormchild's Captain as the ship lifts off the wet beach and heads north. -A minute later and a ways up the beach- Grimshot is alerted by the oncoming airship by the sound of it's engines before he sees it. It rounds the beach a few hundred yards distant, hovering low and slow over the beach, before dropping to the sand for a minute while it's cargo hatch opens and two men scuttle out onto the sand to pick up their shipmate. Even from this distance the man's angry curses can be heard. Once the cargo door has been closed and secured again the ship lifts off again, resuming it's course. ((If Marty chooses to hide he'll be passed by, I already made the roll for it just in case. If not, then let me know.)) ================================== ((THE AIRSHIP COMBAT SECTION HAS BEEN UPDATED. CHECK IT OUT PLEASE.)) It is here!Upkeep:Dexter: +4 CP Claire: +5 CP Tom: +4 CP Marty:+4 CP Kenneth:+2 CP Helo:+4 CP
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Post by DeleriusDruid on Jul 13, 2010 3:33:06 GMT -8
((Yup, I'm definitely hiding. I'll write up another post in a little while))
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Post by brendur on Jul 13, 2010 5:54:58 GMT -8
"Yep, whyn't ye go look for Marty. Make sure he's not makin' hisself more harebrained commotion. If ye want company, I'm fair certain there's someone else 'ere itchin' to have a word with our defector."
"Aye aye Captain. M'still oh the mind that no-one should go out alone, specially iffin there's a retired pirate on the isle. No knowin what traps he might have set out there."
Tom couldn't help but grin as the Stormchilde took off with her Captain laughing, the woman was two grenades short an arsenal, but damn it if she didn't grow on you. Ignoring the umbrella's in the sand he went to fetch his own rucksack, staying out in the rain as the others retreated inside, he nodded to Claire as she went up the ramp.
"Well that went well, I'll take a job oer a bullet to the head any day."
He checked the inside of his oiled rucksack to make sure the grenade and dagger in there were still dry. Slipping the long knife out of it's hold, he thrust it back into his belt, feeling better already just for being armed out here.
"So what should I do with Marty once I find him?"
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kraftykate
Junior Member
Dr. David Sunday
Posts: 90
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Post by kraftykate on Jul 13, 2010 8:59:22 GMT -8
After properly cleaning her gun, Heloise searches the ship for some sort of rucksack that she can use. All the while she speaks under her breath about how she would love to just be in a ship with fuel or better yet a machine shop. "Fucking captain... wrench to the head... just want to be back in the shop... could show 'Allen' a thing or two... could build a goddamn six... I'm a goddamn Watson..."
With most places being searched several times over, she begins to knock around the bunks, floor plates, paneling, etc. Anywhere someone might have tried to hide something. People are always trying to hide stuff, she figures. Even if it's junk to most, it's a treasure to them.
((Heloise is venting frustration by looking all over the ship for places where prisoners or crew might have tried to hide something, no matter how small and hopefully find a rucksack while doing it.))
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Post by e on Jul 13, 2010 9:34:02 GMT -8
Claire looks about at Bethesda's new crew. "Who 'ere wants to go with Tom to fetch Marty? If nobody else wants, I'll go with."
"So what should I do with Marty once I find him?"
"Bring him back here. I've questions for the bugger. I'm a mite tempted to throw him back in the cell we came out of, but I'm most like to put him back on them' stinkin' gray rations for a time. I figger we need all the hands we set down here with, long as we think we can count on he won't blast the next thing he sees again tomorrow." Claire grins. "Ye can tell him we won't kill him... or ye can leave it out if it suits."
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Post by e on Jul 13, 2010 10:47:57 GMT -8
Claire drops her rucksack in the bunk area inside Bethesda after retrieving her gun and stuffing it into her belt, and walks back out into the drizzle to accompany Tom on the search party for Marty. When her eyes fall onto the umbrellas Emillianna left behind in her grand exit, she considers a moment, shaking her head in amusement then picks one up and unfurls it over her head. She figures it's silly lookin' but she'd rather be dry than proper.
"Right, let's be off. I'm lookin' forward to finishing this pain-in-the-arse business and gettin' started on our new operation, not to mention eats."
She tramps back into the greenery of the island, heading toward where she last saw Marty.
((moved gun from rucksack to belt slot))
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Post by brendur on Jul 13, 2010 11:56:02 GMT -8
Tom trudges after his new Captain, chuckling slightly at the sight she cuts with the umbrella, but saying nothing of it. As they draw to the tree line he partitions his time between keeping an eye ahead, and keeping an eye on the ground. His hand, ever at the ready on the dagger in his belt. When they are out of earshot of the crew, he speaks in a low voice so not to advertise their presence to the world.
"Ye did well with the Captain, but I'd be careful. S'likely she marooned her father here. Iffin she did well stands to sense she wouldn't be above doin the same to us to keep the secrets oh the Lucifer to herself."
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Post by DeleriusDruid on Jul 13, 2010 12:23:58 GMT -8
Marty ducked for the cover of the trees when he heard the unmistakable sound of a formidable airship approaching. He watched as the Stormchild recovered their fallen crewmember (who was still alive, the filthy git)
He continued south through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the crater that had once been the Bethesda and its crew.
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Post by Gravedust on Jul 13, 2010 12:40:09 GMT -8
((Y'all go ahead and bump into each other if you want.))
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Post by Gravedust on Jul 13, 2010 21:15:53 GMT -8
((No post from me just yet, keep on truckin'. Once we get the meeting between claire/tom/marty out of the way we can move the scene, I think. I'll figure out the results of Helo's search tomorrow.))
UPKEEEP
Tom: +2 CP
Helo: +2 CP
Claire: +2 CP
Marty: +1 CP
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Post by brendur on Jul 14, 2010 5:53:01 GMT -8
The dagger comes out as soon as there's motion in the bushes, Tom stands stock still for a moment. When Marty finally comes into view he sighs, sheathing the dagger and shaking his head.
"Jaysis fuck, n'there he is, pleasant as ye please. Wonder iffin he's shot anyone else while he's been out here."
Tom puts his fingers to his lips and gives a whistle, waving Marty over to the two of them.
(( Would also like to spend 20 cp points for +4 to Sapping))
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Post by DeleriusDruid on Jul 14, 2010 8:46:08 GMT -8
Maniac and Bossy-girl had come looking for him. Marty sighed. They did not look too pleased with him. Still though, they were alive, and he supposed that counted for something. Maybe the Bethesda was not a total loss, maybe there was still a chance he could leave this God-forsaken island.
Marty looked into the faces of his disgruntled companions, trying to discern exactly how upset they were with him.
"If'n yer lookin' for an apology, ye won't be gettin' it." he muttered, "But I suppose I could be sayin' I won't do it again, cap'n."
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Post by e on Jul 14, 2010 14:57:29 GMT -8
"If'n yer lookin' for an apology, ye won't be gettin' it....But I suppose I could be sayin' I won't do it again, cap'n."
Claire smiles crookedly and adjusts her Captain's hat. "Now why d'ye think I'd be wantin' an apology? Could it be, mayhaps, because ye shot a man without provocation and against mah kindly recommendation and near as hell got our recently-pilfered ship blown ta high hell for it? Could that be why we'd be wantin' an apology? Let me tell ye somethin' about that ship's Captain -- she may be a mite trigger-happy and maybe more than a little cracked, but she's good people, and we don't shoot our friends and neighbors...or didn't yer pappy teach you nuthin'?" She sighs, exasperated.
"I had a mind to throw you back in one of them cells we just came out of for a while to cool yer heels. And I'm still considerin' puttin' ye on those gray rations we had to shove down when we were abidin' in them while you watch ever'one else forkin' down th' good fixin's Kenneth be cookin' up. But seein' as how I wasn't wearin' this previous, I s'pose I can't fault you for not takin' a direct order...much. But I will tell you this: I won't stand for it again. I may have just started wearin' this cap, but ah figure ye learn as ye go, and who knows what ah'll be sayin' after wearin' it for a while. Might be as I'd have you take a long walk out the cargo bay whiles we're still in the sky you ever cross me like that again, yeh hear?
"Now, we're fixin' to pay a little visit to that ship yonder -- the one ye thought ye could steal" -- she suppresses a snicker -- "ta eat with the selfsame crew you just traded bullets with. I was thinkin' I'd have you stay behind while we all go and have a dandy time an' learn about this new job we be doin' with them. But ah'm thinkin' it's even better ta have yeh with us so's you can sit an' eat with the man ye just tried ta kill. An' I don't wanna hear any complaints outta yeh, or I'll let 'em strap ye ta their prow as decoration. Now let's get movin' back to the Bethesda so's we can get our bearings and head on out..."
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Post by brendur on Jul 14, 2010 15:35:21 GMT -8
Tom keeps his silence as Claire chews Marty out, keeping his eyes on the direction he remembers seeing the smoke come from, wary about the prospect of meeting Ema's father. Pirates didn't tend to age gracefully, if they managed to age at all.
"I was thinkin' I'd have you stay behind while we all go and have a dandy time an' learn about this new job we be doin' with them. But ah'm thinkin' it's even better ta have yeh with us so's you can sit an' eat with the man ye just tried ta kill. An' I don't wanna hear any complaints outta yeh, or I'll let 'em strap ye ta their prow as decoration. Now let's get movin' back to the Bethesda so's we can get our bearings and head on out..."
He tilted his head at the prospect of just up and bringing Marty, one trigger happy lunatic in a room was a party, two was a meat grinder. He looked Marty over, looping his thumbs in his belt, just in case the man had something violent to say.
"That a good idea? The two oh them in the same room?"
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Post by e on Jul 14, 2010 18:55:32 GMT -8
"Way I see it, they'll either end up killin' or kissin' each other. Either way our boy here's gonna need to own up to what he did. I don't think 'pologizin' is the worst that could happen to you, 'pologizin' to yer own or the crew over yonder." Claire indicates the Stormchild with a toss of her umbrella.
"Take yer druthers Marty.... stay back on Bethesda while we work out the details of this job with Emillianna, or come with us, leavin' yer malfunctions behind and say a few peaceable words to that crew. I'd say yer hide depends on yer not comin' unstuck again, but I think you realize that."
Claire turns and begins the walk back to Bethesda. She's not sure if Marty has his mind made up, but they can walk and talk or just walk and talk once they're back at the ship. She's anxious to get over to the Stormchild and get a peek at the gut of her, and to learn what kind of hoops they need to be jumpin' through to try and score that key.
She holds the umbrella over her head and tromps through the sodden grass, and makes a mental note to get herself another pair of boots when she gets anyplace civilized. She can feel the sole startin' to tear apart from the leather and soon she reckons she'll have sand inside 'em.
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Post by jazzs3quence on Jul 14, 2010 19:21:31 GMT -8
When Dexter gets back inside the ship, he fidgets. Not that he's co-dependent or anything, but whenever Claire is elsewhere, he never fails to feel ill at ease. He picks up the book he was reading then stops when he realizes he already finished it, and he's too jumpy to start a new one. Heloise rampaging around doesn't make him feel any better. Especially when she's plowing through the cells below that he just finished organizing. It wasn't a perfect system...yet...but he hates it when people mess with his stuff and he has to put it back again. It reminds him of when he was little and would built huge, perfectly symmetrical towers taller than himself out of wooden blocks and Claire would come home from school, slam the door to announce her presence, and the whole thing came toppling over. He loved her, but in those moments he wanted to strangle her.
Dexter's also annoyed that the Stormchild's Captain was too dense to follow his plan. He knew what a bleeding circuit key was. Hadn't he been soldering raw circuit boards himself since he first made a shortwave radio from some parts he found at a scrapyard when he was 5? Yes. Yes he had. The point was not to make a working copy, which she was obviously too ignorant to realize. The point was to make a replica that would take the place of the original after they had stolen it, so that by the time the old man realized it wasn't real, they'd hopefully have the vault open and the ship would be in the air. Or else make a copy of Emiliana's key, and show it to the old man to get him to warm up to Claire enough to show her where he keeps his half. It was tiring to have to work with people so uneducated; you had to explain these things multiple times, and Dexter wasn't very good with the talking thing. After the first time, any further attempts to detail his point usually came out "smargle flargle puff! Pargle argle bargle! Floof parade!" so he didn't bother.
Words were not his strong suit.
Actually, that wasn't true. Words he was fine with. It was the saying them part, that was the problem. He suddenly longed for the experiment in brain communication he'd started working on 2 years ago...it didn't work, the best he'd gotten was a rat to twitch its tail before biting him on the finger, but it was a good idea. People would be happier if they could explain themselves in thoughts rather than have to use words to describe everything. Language is so fallible.
Not wanting to go below, avoiding the galley and the bridge where he figured the others were likely to be loitering, he retreated to the engine room, leaned his head against the pipes and sheet metal, and closed his eyes, waiting for Claire and Tom to return, with or without Hooplehead.
((Dexter grabs his leather bag and the gun on the way in the ship. The bag is on his person, the gun is currently next to him, but he's not going to take it with him when they leave.))
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Post by brendur on Jul 14, 2010 20:44:28 GMT -8
"As ye say Captain."
Tom followed behind, humming a shanty to himself to keep his feet in time with the others. A few times he leaned his head back and opened his mouth to catch a few mouthfuls of water. Scrubbing at his tangled and soaked mess of hair, at the closest thing he's had to a bath for going on a few days now. He keeps an eye peeled to the ground and trees for any hanging dates or coconuts, perhaps sign of some game near about to replenish a few of the rations they had been burning through. Making idle conversation as they move.
"Can't believe they managed to find one oh the Six, bastards are either lucky or cursed."
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Post by Gravedust on Jul 14, 2010 22:54:16 GMT -8
The trip over to the Stormchild is uneventful, though not quiet quiet. The rain stops about halfway through the trip, and the jungle's indigenous creatures more than make up for the lack of ambient rain sounds with their own calls and rustlings. The Stormchild herself is little more than a dark blot on the beach, clearly under blackout orders with thick cotton drapes covering all the windows. Only the soft, deep mumble of her banked furnace and a thin stream of smoke from her stack indicates she is alive at all. A lookout on deck stands up and waves as the Bethesda's contingent approaches, and a few second later the aft cargo ramp hisses and drops open. A solitary figure drops out into the sand to meet them, a woman with two swords crossed at her hips, considerably shorter than the captain but also considerably more solid. She looks over the group appraisingly for a few moments from behind a pair of goggles. "I'm Rhenna, first mate. You're welcome aboard Stormchild. Take the stairwells straight up to the bunk deck. Don't go anywhere else without permission. If -anything- comes out of a holster or scabbard I'll consider it a hostile move. You're warned now, there won't be a warning later. This boat is my responsibility tonight, and I take that responsibility very seriously." She lets her words hang on the air for a moment then jerks her head towards the open cargo hold. "Welcome aboard." Stormchild's Cargo hold encompasses the entire lower deck, and is stocked with a number of covered boxes, most likely food and other supplies and sundries. Some boxes are loose and others are cracked open in their cargo slots, not a particularly shipshape way to go about business. The stairwell leads upwards to the third deck, which appears to be the engineering spaces. The furnace hisses at a low bank and further aft in the double-sized area the pressure tank rests. Doors lead both further forward and further aft but both are close. However, juding from thier positioning and the minor forest of piping and wires that lead to each, it's very probable these are both the ship's engine compartments. Unlike the Cargo deck, the spaces here are meticulously, maintained, withhardly a dollop of stray grease or a mote of rust on any surface. The next stairwell leads up into the bunkroom. While almost double the size and better appointed than Bethesda's, they are jammed tight with equipment and supplies and people. Gear and miscellaneous pieces of equipment are strewn everywhere on every available surface. The space is illuminated by dim electrical lighting. Doors lead forward and aft, but are closed and dogged. A hatch in the aft part of the compartment leads up into what is most probably the bridge. Most of Stormchild's crew is in attendence, either playing cards in a small group in one of the corners, or laying in their bunks. They watch Bethesda's crew file in silently, pausing in whatever they were doing to look them over. A pained moan is heard through the wall of one of the aft compartments, followed by some cursing in what those on the beach would recognize as Stefan Rackman's hard-edged voice. The air grows tense. Rhenna comes up the stairwell last, kicking the hatchway closed behind her. She looks over the living quarters and it's denizens with her arms crossed over her chest. "This is the crew of the Concordia junker Bethesda. There isn't going to be a problem, is-?" Her introduction is cut short by as Emillianna half climbs, half drops down from the overhead hatchway, landing on her feet in a clatter of gear. "Oi! Rollin' hell, 's about damn time, yeh?" She looks around the room at the assembled group, then focuses in on her sullen crew. "Pissy, huh?" She sneers. "Well kiss'n make up 'cause ye bitches'r working together at least in name, yeh? 'n if not that then because these'r -MY- guest fer the night." She looks around, a sour scowl riding on her features as she unsubtly lays a hand on her enormous rifle. "Any objections and I'll hear 'em now." A moment passes before she presses a finger behind her ear. "Nothin'? ...Good. Hate ta have two crew shot in one day." She grins at the Bethesda's assembled contingent. "And this' a gun ye only ever get hit once with." She pounds the butt of the weapon solidly into the deckplates. "Unlike that girly little fairy-fart ye got Rackman with. Speaking of which..." She cranes her neck and stouts at the closed door of the aft compartment. "Weeb! WEEB!! Leave that dried up old fart alone an' get out here!" Emillianna sweeps the junk off a nearby high-backed swivel chair with her arm and has a seat, settling in with the huge gun across her lap. "Arrrite. So. Make yerselves at home! If yeh got any food get ta dolin' it out, there's some here who haven't eaten yet." Stormchild's LayoutMore of the island============================================== UpkeepTom:+4 Sapping Skill (-20CP) +2CP Marty:+2 CP Claire:+2 CP Dexter:+3 CP Helo:+$99 (From search)
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