Gonna post Zhevon helping Cath out tonight
notifying so we don't get that trainwreck miscommunication thing
notifying so we don't get that trainwreck miscommunication thing
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ゴゴゴゴ
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So... I guess Zhevon is going to help Cath? Right?
I'll make Guess Who come back.
4 people is enough
I'll post today, or failing that tomorrow.
---
Tomorrow failed. Tuesday for sure.
4 people is enough
I'll post today, or failing that tomorrow.
---
Tomorrow failed. Tuesday for sure.
surprise im alive
Lets do a quick roll call
Lets do a quick roll call
"Sir, the art is fascinating and all, but you're going to have to come with us." The more serious one interrupted,
"Ah, I see. Lead the way then." Zhevon replied, conceding. There was something he needed to retrieve from their basement, and he was a bit curious. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a stairwell. The guard opened the heavy door on the bottom, the door flowed smooth and gave no creaks. It was probably often used and well maintained. A few steps into the basement, gunfire was heard, then the guards received a transmission. Zhevon tensed up. Once they rose their weapons at him, the Inquisitor spun around, swatting a lasgun away with his arm and planting a fist into the face of one of the guard on the left. In a flash, Zhevon gripped his sword and whipped it out, slashing at the right guard. He went into a stab, and thrust the blade of his power sword into the chest of the guard on the left. Zhevon pulled it out and smacked the other guard in the face with the pommel of his sword. A quick slash dispatched the last guard. The Inquisitor looked to the exit of the basement, knowing that their cover had been blown, he would have to link up with the rest of his retinue. But the door wasn't there. What he saw was a stone wall, like the other stone walls, with a rack lined with whips of various size and length.
Zhevon's eyes narrowed. His communicator flashed red, jammed.
A transmission barely came through, crammed with static and interference.
"...Nor... Iestess Li... Melta charg... Det... Report... Vasto... Position."
A Techpriestess, Melta Charges, Detonation? Report to Vastok's position? Zhevon clicked his communicator on, receiving static back. He clicked morse code back, "Stuck in basement. Will escape."
He turned to face deeper into the basement, the darkness limiting his vision. The only thing he could see further down were the dim lamps on the walls. He shook his sword, shaking off the excess blood off of it. Since the exit, or entrance, was closed off, the only way to go was deeper into the basement. He walked cautiously, wielding a laspistol taken off of one of the guards in his offhand, and his sword on the other. He noticed scores of boxes, art pieces, shelves full of phallic objects. He saw a particularly large one, so oddly shaped, he stopped and let out an audible Eugh. This must double as both storage and dungeon.
Another transmission came in, like the last, riddled with static and interference.
"Aviza... Evac... Regroup..."
It was more garbled than before, which didn't bode well. After a few moments of travelling, he stumbled upon a Meltabomb. He looked at the Meltabomb, and then at the ceiling. A thought occurred. Not a particularly intelligent one, but a thought. He grabbed it and placed it on the ceiling, then he jogged away about two dozen feet. Took aim with the laspistol, and fired. He missed. Zhevon grimaced and took aim again, firing again. Missing again. He sighed loudly, taking several more shots until a las hit the melta charge and detonated it. Finally, a way out.
Then how to climb up... He walked over to a shelf and leaned it against a wall. He took a running start, stepped on the shelf, and managed to climb his way up. His communications now flashed green, he switched it on.
"This is Inquisitor Zhevon, I was trapped in the basement for a moment, I'm out now. Regroup at the DZ?" He broadcasted on squad communications.
"Ah, I see. Lead the way then." Zhevon replied, conceding. There was something he needed to retrieve from their basement, and he was a bit curious. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a stairwell. The guard opened the heavy door on the bottom, the door flowed smooth and gave no creaks. It was probably often used and well maintained. A few steps into the basement, gunfire was heard, then the guards received a transmission. Zhevon tensed up. Once they rose their weapons at him, the Inquisitor spun around, swatting a lasgun away with his arm and planting a fist into the face of one of the guard on the left. In a flash, Zhevon gripped his sword and whipped it out, slashing at the right guard. He went into a stab, and thrust the blade of his power sword into the chest of the guard on the left. Zhevon pulled it out and smacked the other guard in the face with the pommel of his sword. A quick slash dispatched the last guard. The Inquisitor looked to the exit of the basement, knowing that their cover had been blown, he would have to link up with the rest of his retinue. But the door wasn't there. What he saw was a stone wall, like the other stone walls, with a rack lined with whips of various size and length.
Zhevon's eyes narrowed. His communicator flashed red, jammed.
A transmission barely came through, crammed with static and interference.
"...Nor... Iestess Li... Melta charg... Det... Report... Vasto... Position."
A Techpriestess, Melta Charges, Detonation? Report to Vastok's position? Zhevon clicked his communicator on, receiving static back. He clicked morse code back, "Stuck in basement. Will escape."
He turned to face deeper into the basement, the darkness limiting his vision. The only thing he could see further down were the dim lamps on the walls. He shook his sword, shaking off the excess blood off of it. Since the exit, or entrance, was closed off, the only way to go was deeper into the basement. He walked cautiously, wielding a laspistol taken off of one of the guards in his offhand, and his sword on the other. He noticed scores of boxes, art pieces, shelves full of phallic objects. He saw a particularly large one, so oddly shaped, he stopped and let out an audible Eugh. This must double as both storage and dungeon.
Another transmission came in, like the last, riddled with static and interference.
"Aviza... Evac... Regroup..."
It was more garbled than before, which didn't bode well. After a few moments of travelling, he stumbled upon a Meltabomb. He looked at the Meltabomb, and then at the ceiling. A thought occurred. Not a particularly intelligent one, but a thought. He grabbed it and placed it on the ceiling, then he jogged away about two dozen feet. Took aim with the laspistol, and fired. He missed. Zhevon grimaced and took aim again, firing again. Missing again. He sighed loudly, taking several more shots until a las hit the melta charge and detonated it. Finally, a way out.
Then how to climb up... He walked over to a shelf and leaned it against a wall. He took a running start, stepped on the shelf, and managed to climb his way up. His communications now flashed green, he switched it on.
"This is Inquisitor Zhevon, I was trapped in the basement for a moment, I'm out now. Regroup at the DZ?" He broadcasted on squad communications.
yep im back from the dead
hi.
I'll be posting tomorrow, tonights for getting my bearings back for all of my stuff
---
Hey Rivaan, could you put your sheet up in the Chartab? It'l be easier to find there for whomever needs to check up on the current party.
whoops hadn't realized we got a second page for the tab.
---
heres some fancy music
youtube.com/watch?v=b1FLk6BgATc&ab_cha..
hi.
I'll be posting tomorrow, tonights for getting my bearings back for all of my stuff
---
Hey Rivaan, could you put your sheet up in the Chartab? It'l be easier to find there for whomever needs to check up on the current party.
whoops hadn't realized we got a second page for the tab.
---
heres some fancy music
youtube.com/watch?v=b1FLk6BgATc&ab_cha..
As the rest of his squad piled in, he acknowledged them with simple, short nods, waiting for the briefing to start. Just when it was about to, two more mechs appeared on the squadron roster. Zapka narrowed his eyes. His squadron was still being built, and all of them were non-standard mechs, with... interesting additions or origins. So, we're an irregular squadron, he reasoned. With an emphasis towards lights and fast mediums, Zapka being the only heavier mech there for the moment. Not a scout squadron, his very presence crossed that out. Not a combat squadron, too many lights and not enough heavies. This strange combination of mechs confounded him. He sighed. The last two pilots entered the room, and the assistant dimmed the lights and began his briefing.
A hologram of the planet appeared at the front of the briefing room. Already Zapka could see that it was about half made of water. The rest of landmass. Numerous plateaus and mountain ranges would play havoc with the Aspis' maneuverability, but for the rest of his squadron, not so much. What was strange was that he saw no structures of signs of civilization at all, usually briefing maps included the night time lights of cities, or highlighted military bases to aid the pilots with their preliminary judgement, as well as visual aid for the one doing the briefing. However this planet was just blank, as if it were uninhabited. He narrowed his eyes.
The Assistant began.
"This is... What the crews are calling Cryotic 4. All probes sent to this planet has been destroyed, by the natural phenomenon, or other. We do not know what is on this planet, aside from what we have scanned. The planets diameter is only 3,512.1 kilometers, the atmosphere is thin, nitrogen rich, and the landmasses are mostly made of rock. The water is covered by ice. The planet temperature goes from -80*C to +10*C. You will be dropping at Drop Site Bravo."
The hologram rotated, letting Drop Site Bravo face the pilots. The site was highlighted. It was a spot of flatland near a mountain range and lake, with rivers leading to the oceans.
"This will be an extended mission... And that concludes my briefing. Captain Zapka, would you like to say a few words?"
Zapka nodded and walked up to the front. He turned to face his pilots.
"Men. Start thinking about modifying your loadouts to suit an exploration role, free up some tonnage to allow the eggheads to attach whatever active sensors and data gathering modules they want onto you. We're not going into war. But I get the feeling we're not getting the big picture here..." Zapka slowly turned his head to glare at the Assistant. He stayed silent. Zapka turned back to his pilots. "The brass tends to do this to mechheads. Be ready for either an extremely boring deployment, or a strangely action packed one. If you have any questions, ask now, if not, head down to Bay 1, our mechs should be getting prepped there."
A hologram of the planet appeared at the front of the briefing room. Already Zapka could see that it was about half made of water. The rest of landmass. Numerous plateaus and mountain ranges would play havoc with the Aspis' maneuverability, but for the rest of his squadron, not so much. What was strange was that he saw no structures of signs of civilization at all, usually briefing maps included the night time lights of cities, or highlighted military bases to aid the pilots with their preliminary judgement, as well as visual aid for the one doing the briefing. However this planet was just blank, as if it were uninhabited. He narrowed his eyes.
The Assistant began.
"This is... What the crews are calling Cryotic 4. All probes sent to this planet has been destroyed, by the natural phenomenon, or other. We do not know what is on this planet, aside from what we have scanned. The planets diameter is only 3,512.1 kilometers, the atmosphere is thin, nitrogen rich, and the landmasses are mostly made of rock. The water is covered by ice. The planet temperature goes from -80*C to +10*C. You will be dropping at Drop Site Bravo."
The hologram rotated, letting Drop Site Bravo face the pilots. The site was highlighted. It was a spot of flatland near a mountain range and lake, with rivers leading to the oceans.
"This will be an extended mission... And that concludes my briefing. Captain Zapka, would you like to say a few words?"
Zapka nodded and walked up to the front. He turned to face his pilots.
"Men. Start thinking about modifying your loadouts to suit an exploration role, free up some tonnage to allow the eggheads to attach whatever active sensors and data gathering modules they want onto you. We're not going into war. But I get the feeling we're not getting the big picture here..." Zapka slowly turned his head to glare at the Assistant. He stayed silent. Zapka turned back to his pilots. "The brass tends to do this to mechheads. Be ready for either an extremely boring deployment, or a strangely action packed one. If you have any questions, ask now, if not, head down to Bay 1, our mechs should be getting prepped there."
Say what happened to that one person that wanted to be a techpriestess?
I think?
Or someyhingg?
I think?
Or someyhingg?
Will be posting tomorrow night, Finals just finished this week.
Zhevon wandered the halls of the mansion rather aimlessly, endless hallways of paintings, locked doors leading to who knows where, the occasional table. It was all mostly unremarkable, which was a disappointment to the undercover Inquisitor, he had hoped to stumble on some sort of museum of Chaos artifacts, or something similar. Usually his aimless wandering had him stumble on a something, but this time he appeared to have no luck in the matter. Now convinced he was lost, he looked at a painting to make himself seem like he was busy, when in actuality he was trying to remember the steps he took to get to that point in the mansion.
Then he heard a pair of heavy boots closing in where he was standing. He muttered a curse and held his ground.
"Sir?"
Zhevon slowly turned to look at the voice, it was two guards. Well armored, and wielding lasguns. Likely low-ranking soldiers patrolling the halls. "Guards." Zhevon acknowledged, he turned back to the painting.
"Uh... Sir, the dinner is that way."
"I know. I'm not particularly hungry, and this painting is just... Captivating."
"Excuse me?" One of the Guards asked, more curious than anything. The other looked at his partner, then at the painting.
By now Zhevon was actually examining the painting rather than just blankly staring at it. He saw a burning village in the background, a bay full of sunken ships, and in front, hills covered in dead yellow grass. Piles of cattle skeletons and dead cattle laid strewn on the hills. He spotted animated skeletons scattered across the landscape. A large group of them swarming a small church of a long dead religion, others pulling out caskets from the ground, the dead rising from the earth. In the bottom corner, a small number of skeletons beating war drums, and hoisting an obelisk with a column of armed skeletons marching from the mouth of a dark cave nearby. Just above it, the boney undead were executing the living, by sword, hanging, burning at the stake. To the left, pitched battle between peasants, hopelessly armed with pitchforks and staves against a second column of skeletons, all armed with spears. The peasants were losing. Upon closer inspection he noticed that the painting was flowing, as if it were a real event captured in a painting.
"This painting shows the futility of fighting death..." Zhevon began. He spoke for an impressive length of time, mostly making all of this up right on the spot, but the Guards seemed to understand it well enough.
Then he heard a pair of heavy boots closing in where he was standing. He muttered a curse and held his ground.
"Sir?"
Zhevon slowly turned to look at the voice, it was two guards. Well armored, and wielding lasguns. Likely low-ranking soldiers patrolling the halls. "Guards." Zhevon acknowledged, he turned back to the painting.
"Uh... Sir, the dinner is that way."
"I know. I'm not particularly hungry, and this painting is just... Captivating."
"Excuse me?" One of the Guards asked, more curious than anything. The other looked at his partner, then at the painting.
By now Zhevon was actually examining the painting rather than just blankly staring at it. He saw a burning village in the background, a bay full of sunken ships, and in front, hills covered in dead yellow grass. Piles of cattle skeletons and dead cattle laid strewn on the hills. He spotted animated skeletons scattered across the landscape. A large group of them swarming a small church of a long dead religion, others pulling out caskets from the ground, the dead rising from the earth. In the bottom corner, a small number of skeletons beating war drums, and hoisting an obelisk with a column of armed skeletons marching from the mouth of a dark cave nearby. Just above it, the boney undead were executing the living, by sword, hanging, burning at the stake. To the left, pitched battle between peasants, hopelessly armed with pitchforks and staves against a second column of skeletons, all armed with spears. The peasants were losing. Upon closer inspection he noticed that the painting was flowing, as if it were a real event captured in a painting.
"This painting shows the futility of fighting death..." Zhevon began. He spoke for an impressive length of time, mostly making all of this up right on the spot, but the Guards seemed to understand it well enough.
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