"Sure, let me just let the triggerhappy psychopath up for round two first. You never learned first aid? Useless featherworld public schools! What do they even teach you? Just keep pressure on it and yell 'doc' really fucking loud."
"Or not that loud, he's right fucking there."
[Fire is not the doctor. Doc is the doctor.]
KzkSkippy Member
A Mongoose's Creed
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- KzkSkippy 10 yrs ago
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I'm a man for one, let's clear that up. You may encounter me playing outside my gender, just as you may see me playing outside of my race, religion or political leanings. That's why it's called roleplaying. I find it a lot easier to avoid the classic trap of playing a Mary Sue when I'm playing a character that is obviously not me.
On that note, If I see you playing a Mary Sue, I will call you on it. The mocking will be legendary, I assure you. None of this dual katana waiving, Desert Eagle praising, special snowflake faggotry on my watch thank you. I'm not here to start fights on the internet. I will, though. I just find them funny, but keep in mind while I'm ridiculing you: that's just how I relate to people. I don't hate you. For Christ's sake, I made my best friend by kicking him in the balls. And giving him a pretty impressive scar with a spoon. Come to think of it, he still hasn't gotten me back for that one.
As far as my posting goes, well, I happen to be in that awkward position of having adult things to do a lot of my time. I may be a slow ass poster, or at least be pretty limited in the times of day I can post. I may also be pulled out for weeks at a time, which I will give warning for, and probably bow out of any ongoing RP's. The reason for this is my current enlistment in the military. Now, before you get all, "Thank you for your service, bro." (Or "Fuck you, Baby-killing asshole!" for that matter. I won't judge) on me, I should say that I have not, nor will I ever see combat, and you should save it for someone who's service has actually mattered. Mine is just a day job.
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Sorry about the tooth though. On the plus side, I bet our unit has good dental.
Tam planted a knee in her apparently psychotic teammates back, twisting his shooting arm around behind him to keep him from going for that pistol. As long as his bones worked close enough to a humans, she was fairly confident that would hold him.
She looked at the shooters victim. "Paul, stop pretending to be a badass and get something on that leg. Krishna, gun's do kill people you know!"
Holy shit I thought I was the only one who thought that was nine different kinds of awesome.
Consider me interested.
Well, I'm attempting to do just that.
Or at least hold you down long enough for the leader to figure out what the fuck is going on.
Nothing personal. Just realistic.
You going for the ridiculous vulcan super-strength?
Tam might have paid attention to the obvious display of stage magic. She also might have responded to her team leader. These were all important, relevant things that were happening. However, somewhat more relevant, was the fact that this pointy-eared primitivist asshat just shot one of her teammates.
In another situation, Tam might have shot Fire. However, as much as she might clash with Fire, she also gave him a little bit of credit for being a teammate. That prevented her from killing him... for now. It did not, however, preclude less lethal methods of ensuring he didn't do it again.
Muscles forged by a combination of heavy-grav environment and scientific intervention flexed, and a hundred-plus kilo's of Narakan flung herself at the shooter. What she might have lacked in finesse, Tam made up for in raw strength and years of experience in barside brawls and company-town riots. She hit like a train. Striking as the xeno casually checked his weapon, she attempted to disarm and grapple.
"Sarge! Get the fuck over here!" under the circumstances, she didn't bother with formalities, "Fucking Fire just shot Paul!"
[Action: Disarm and Restrain Fire. @Nerminator: PM me if you wish to contest. Sorry, there is just literally no way someone could react casually to watching that happen]
Are we all ignoring the fact that captain pointy-ears here just shot a teammate?
It's going to be really hard to hold up a team dynamic and reply in character.
"There's worse things in the world than dying, Eyebrows." Tam shrugged him off curtly. The overly logical xeno had been a constant source of argument for as long as she'd known him. She didn't expect there was any malice behind it, just one of those personality conflicts. That didn't mean she looked forward to their arguments either.
"Oh for- I'll get him!" She used the opportunity to disengage when the engineer stormed out. She'd worked with him more than most people on the team, given the overlap in their specialties. She tended towards the more maintenance oriented jobs though, taking care of armor and drones, while he did the more... esoteric jobs. Inwardly, she'd suspected more than once that he was an avatar of saint MacGuyver reborn.
"Hey, Paul!" She stuck her head out the door. "Gear's in here, old-fuck is tentatively designated as friendly. Don't bother the locals."
Fire walked up to the two, joining in there little conversation. Doc is Correct, if the Old human Was working for someone, we would've been dead before we even woke up, Fire added his Logical logic,
Fire added his Logical logic,
Logical logic,...Oh for Vishnu's sake!
Tam feigned offense, "Whoah doc, stereotyping much? You know the saints watch out for drunks and criminals, so I'm less likely to die than the rest of you. Probably die a hundred and fifty years old with fourteen husbands and a pool-boy gathered around my bed. Naw, what im getting at, is how the hell did the old man know which gear to grab? It's all sorted out neatly, and I guarantee I didn't have some of these tools on me when during the dogfight. I shucked my gear to crawl up in the grav-rings right before we jumped out. So, I can get this whole good samaritan- pulled us out of the wreckage act. But how did he know whose gear was whose? And how did that old bastard carry an entire squad and our gear? Hell, I'm a load and a half for a man in good shape, he doesn't look like he should be lifting more than a glass of prune-juice!"
She looked around to be sure the old man wasn't listening, "Maybe I'm nuts, but this smells like a setup. He knows things about us. Something he shouldn't, if this whole 'primitive world medicine man' act is kosher. Something's going on."
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