PerfectThought

Spiral Serpent - A Jazz-Rock's Band's Story of Success

Looks... Interesting. Not too experienced with music stuff though gotta be honest. Any chance I could do a fixer-type businessman involved with the business of the band, but not with the music production? This could lead to an interesting dynamic of the businessman and the musicians butting heads over the balance between money and art...

Pizza Tower: THE RPG

Looks like something someone wrote while on one too many pills. Sounds like my job. I'm in.

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

Sorry wasn't too active toward the end of that. Been busy and shit. Still posting though.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

PARTYCRASHER - SACK OF POTATOES

Stafford perked up at Glitch's message. He was about 20 meters from his target position. But here would do. He slid into the sand, creating a small cloud of fine dust. Lucky for the mask, he thought. He rapidly drew his rifle, not prepping his position. Instead, he immediately loaded a superheavy depleted uranium anti-personnel slug into the chamber. Enough to turn just about any single person into a fine red mist. He loosely adjusted his form, spreading his weight more evenly and securing his elbow more. He lined up the cockpit in his sights, listening to his oppo's words. He gave a short affirmation and waited for the return signal. Following the barked signal from his buddy, the maw of the iron beast opened wide, revealing the shocked pilot to the brutal violence he had been previously shielded from.

@Awesomoman64
Relax. Inhale, exhale, inhale, squeeze, exhale. "Fired." He watched as his shot grazed the wall of the cockpit, shaving through the hermetic seal and passing straight through the center of the pilot's head. It burst like a balloon full of Kool-Aid; the viscera coating the interior with a fine paste of gore. The now headless body proceeded to flop out of the unmanned mechanical beat like a sack of potatoes, slumping to the ground at the iron warrior's feet. Stafford smirked, hoping that was good enough for his colleague.

@FourtyTwo
Next up on the menu: the other pilot. The Doctor humped his rifle over to a nearby rise in the ground, his rifle pointing upwards he properly set himself up, ensuring he was adequately covered by his cloak he scanned the air for the bastard Hind. He caught it hovering to the north of the ship, searching for an adequate target. He guessed. No matter. He adjusted the magnification on his scope, zooming it in and adjusting the picture ever so slightly. He attempted to train it on the cockpit, waiting for it to face him so he could try to take out the pilot. Short of that, he'd try to fuck up the engines. Not especially hard to do to a helicopter thankfully. As the whistle of the 'silencer' died down, he loaded another superheavy round. Before attempting a shot he keyed into the comms, "Queen, clear to take a shot at the chopper's pilot?"

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

@Fading Memory Spooky girl! Something related to Brown's power? He's definitely going to be super weirded out by that. Really nice post, thanks!

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

KAITIAKI

Stafford listened to the hearty groans and grumbles from the bloody scot. With an arrogant smirk, he retorted, "Well love, if you know the right people. You can pay off just about anything... Anyway, this is a good nightcap, but don't worry doll. I'm sure you'll be paid back in due." With that he reclined back, largely withdrawing from the conversation as he began to examine the ongoing antics in the rec room. He could already tell this team would be interesting. Yet to see how effective. But certainly interesting.

---

PARTYCRASHER

"Roger that, Sunray. In position." He exhaled slightly and muttered something about having to run around away from the mech. He noted Jaguar cresting the ridge, about 20 feet away from him. As his colleague got into position Stafford began his checks. He awaited the unspoken signal of Queen's throttle hitting the floor. He spied the dust clouds barreling towards the oxidized skeletons, glinting in the morning desert light. He racked the bolt, loading a one-pound HEAT round into the breech of his rifle. With a heavy push, he loaded the round into the chamber, the gun primed and ready he removed the safety. He took one last examination of the lay of the land before taking his mark.

Finally, he closed his sights on his target: the sensor array of the class 2 mech. It was truly a nasty beast, boasting a whole suite of weaponry that could turn him into the contents of a tin of spam. However, that wouldn't off-put him. If he could decimate the sensor array the pilot would have to rely on the limited set of analogue optics the mech was equipped with. This in turn would make all their lives easier, especially his, as it would limit the hulk's long-range effectiveness to practically nothing.

Stafford took a deep breath in, watching his sights sway as his chest moved. Then he exhaled, letting the reticule drift back to its resting point: directly over his target. He reached the end of his lungful and gently squeezed. He felt the rifle kick into the crease of his shoulder like a mule. The only thing stopping his arm from being broken is the rifle's recoil limitation features. And a heavily padded stock. A whistle is the only sound to be heard as in the distance he looks at his target, examining the damage. As soon as he had ascertained the extent of the damage from the shot he began to reposition. Picking himself up hastily, then the rifle. Holstering it firmly while he tried to remain as low off the ground as he could. He barked out to Jaguar, "Reposition! ASAP!" Before the opposition could determine his location he was barreling down the opposite side of the ridge from them. He engaged his exo-suit, full throttle. Sprinting into the horizon, unfortunately vaguely in the direction of the Hind, but that wasn't his primary worry. For now, he would attempt to travel in a quarter-circle arc around the AO from his previous position and attempt to fire off another shot.

@FourtyTwo@Theyra

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

Got the shit beaten out of me, but at least I've gotten over my writer's block. Pretty short post, but Brown is now... Somewhere? Not with the others.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

Brown L. Cheeseman

The elongated boy had not uttered a peep since leaving the small pool. Entranced by the setting around him, he ambled slowly through the magnificent settlement. His mind was filled with thoughts and theories, only paying attention to the conversation. As he stumbled his way through crowds he found himself face to face with a short stocky creature. It grinned up at him with a wide mouth and a gleaming set of many eyes. Brown didn't get a chance to count due to the heaving crowds, but he sighted a great many eyes and a great many arms. It wordlessly thrust a great staff towards him. The body of the staff was sleek and simple, reminding him of a wizard's staff. It was easily taller than him by at least a foot and had a pleasant deep brown colour. It was bare except for a small grip hewn into it, approximately slightly below his should height, and topped with a crudely carved figure. Reminiscent of a gothic-era gargoyle. The creature sat squatting on top of the staff.

He suddenly realised he had been standing in thought, examining the staff for some time now. The grin of the creature slowly morphed into what appeared to be a look of confusion. He thrust it towards him again. Brown, realising the small creature was offering it to him gingerly plucked it, feeling the surprising lightweightness of the staff as he hefted it by his side. He watched the creature give some kind of joyous cackle before being whisked back into the ever-changing folds of the crowd.

He peered over the heads of many creatures, searching for his entourage in desperation. It dawned on him that he appeared to have lost them, and so, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He continued in the direction the group was traveling: towards the opulent palace.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

Hmm, haven't posted recently. Was originally going to wait for the plot to move forward. But now that we're taking it slower, thinking Brown might get accidentally split up or some. Take a meander through the city... Not sure.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

KAITIAKI

In the auburn setting sun the elegant scot running round the small island like an ant. His helicopter was fast approaching the quaint landing pad. He put his monocular away with a snap as the blades began to slow down. He snatched up his sleek leather duffel up as he leaned out wishing his pilot, Romeo, a farewell.

He stepped out, his figure of bravado framed well by the fast setting sun over the Tasman sea. His tailoured suit had not faired well from the long travel he had endured to show up. But oh well, with any luck he would be showered and refreshed for tonight's brief. At least that's why he presumed they'd been rallied at this humble little HQ.

He let himself in, finding his own lavish quarters. He considered finding his stash and settling down in his office for a read. However more pressingly, he desperately wanted a shower. After redressing himself in his night clothes. (A set of striped pajamas, red silk bathrobe, and slippers. Of course.) He snatched up a small teak box and wandered on up to the rec room.

He was somewhat caught off guard by it's sole resident as he wandered in, eyes cast downwards to the ivory pipe propped between himself. He let out a frustrated grunt as yet another match smouldered against whatever flowery scented substance he had loaded in the pipe. He glanced upward briefly in search of the drinks cabinet and was rewarded with an eyeful of his old oppo.

Skye Lyons. An apt name for the fearsome woman. He sleepily found himself beside the woman, flashing her one of his infamous smiles. Somewhere in-between a wry knowing grin, and a slightly presumptuous smirk. It was the marmite of facial expressions. It relaxed some and merely angered others. He was curious to rediscover how the fine woman reacted to it. "Hmm, fancy seeing you here." He gave her a sly wink as he reached for a tumbler and poured himself an ample glass of the rich golden amber nectar. Sipping on it slightly with a contented look at he settled into one of the lavish armchairs around the room. Finally he finished off his settling in with, his voice slightly more noticeably northern than normal, a single straight to the point question: "So, who's fucked us off now, love?"

---

PARTYCRASHER

Stafford had scored himself shotgun in the primary DPV. Standing with his head above the windshield, he peered out across the desert through his monocle. As the early morning sun crested the wave of sand that stretched out in front of them. The DPV's radio blared out under his racing heart. It had been more than two decades, and it would be at least another two decades before that rush died down before an op. He sat back down into the passenger seat, unclamping the lower half of his face mask.

The mask's mandibles split open to reveal the clipped beard of it's occupant. It brought to mind images of a horrific metallic bug consuming a man. Those images were soon scratched to the dust below their tires as he brought out an unusually pungent 'cigar'. Flowery, dry, and earthy scents could be detected on traces of wind as the DPV sped out from under the wind around them. Iller brought his hand up to a match he had carefully lit, protecting it from the wind as he lit the skunky, piney blunt.

The DPV's slammed into it's resting place, Stafford jumping out as the rest of the squad disembarked. He flicked away the roach and closed his mask. The last peek that could be garnered of his face was a slight scowl as the scarab's mandibles engulfed his face. He drew his hood up over it as he gazed over to the ridge in mention. It was about two miles to travel, by his reckoning. Probably about 50 meters high. He nodded to Queen and gave her a short 'roger' before beginning his journey.

For the sake of his legs he started off jogging, then slowly eased up the power of his exo-skeleton to help carry him the rest of the distance. He'd made it up in about two minutes, and while the rest of the squad were busying themselves, he set himself up.

First he appraised his surroundings, it was a desolate scene. A few shrubs, a singles small twisted tree about 10 feet away. Mostly just sand, and a few rocks. He drew the rifle from his back, holding it with both hands as he lay himself on the sand, resting the barrel in-between two seemingly dead shrub that had grown right next to each other, he positioned the monstrous towards the rusted out hulk. Checking the safety catch instinctually as he brought he did his finally preparations. He drew his left Token and set it in the sand under his cloak, by his left arm. Finally he brought his armoured cheek up to the bespoke cheek guard. His face welded perfectly to the stock as his good eye stared into the inky blackness of the unpowered digitised scope. He flicked it on and a blue flash filled his vision.

His first thoughts as he began surveying were that, as the sun had just barely risen, the sand on his stomach was cold. Even through his light armour it was noticeable. He squirmed as his focus turned to the skeletal remains of what was once a ship. He stared through, accounting anything noticeable. After that he switched the scope to thermal mode to account for any heat signatures hidden by the oxidising superstructure. Vehicles, people, gear, anything about. Once he had finished the survey he thumbed the wireless radio transceiver built just above the mag release switch and passed on his survey.

@FourtyTwo