Being lasered is bad for your health kiddos.
TTwoThumbsUp Member
Oh God Why
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And let there be light!
At least, Sevyn hoped that the lights coming on were her doing and not because of some emergency power that was reactivated automatically. Nevertheless, the lights gave her some hope that she was doing something right with the console, despite the blasted code changing and rewriting itself over and over again as she tried to get the code to resemble anything that would be close to normal.
Her efforts were not helped when Hundred flew violently into the corridor (though it seemed she had done a swell job locking the open door back up; better than that other one was doing anyway with his pushing and grunting), did some fancy doothing with her Dust, then rudely stomping loudly toward the obviously working Syndarin. On top of that, she had the audacity to shove her dirty mug into Sevyn's faceplate. Honestly the woman had no manners. Did she not know how long Sevyn was going to have to spend cleaning her faceplate? Okay well admittedly not long - in fact it was already clean - but still. Manners.
It only got more annoying once the Giygan began speaking.
"I'm sorry, princess," Sevyn replied in mock apology in a tone reserved for infants and the mentally retarded. "I didn't know the wittle clone was scared of a few big bad drones. I'm sorry for not being able to hold your hand the entire time, but I promise the next time when we go out on a space adventure where I have to choose between finding us an entrance or helping you squash little bugs, I'll help you with the bugs."
Just then the console Sevyn had been working on exploded in her face, the resulting blast sending out pure electric hate that only confirmed the Syndarin's suspicions that it hated her, despite her being the most arguably qualified to work with the ship's software. Or maybe it was because she was the most qualified with the software.
Off to her left, Sevyn could hear Jemini repeatedly whirring in what sounded suspiciously like mocking laughter.
Sevyn shook her head in disgust, standing up and taking a moment to stop her ears from ringing and her vision to not be all white and flashy. Once both had returned to normal, she dusted herself off and began working on the next console. Once she had cracked into the code again, she deigned to answer Hundred's question.
"I'm sure you know as well as I do that nothing was spared in the construction of this ship. That included the software. Whoever built this ship had also commissioned someone to write an entirely new language for the Lone Star's software. Normally not a problem, as a language is a language; once you learn it and know how to use it everything's all fine and dandy. Unfortunately whoever wrote this code was some demonic genius, since the code keeps constantly changing and adapting by itself." Sevyn frowned as the code did just that right beneath her fingertips again, and she smacked the console in retaliation.
"Like this, see. The moment you get close to telling it to do something you want, it just rewrites itself into something completely new. There may be a pattern, or there may be some entity controlling the software which I-" Sevyn paused as she heard the tiny click click clicks of tumblers unlocking under the vixen's graceful hands. Which Sevyn thought was all fine and dandy of course, considering they couldn't spend all day in the hallway but, physical tumblers. Why would this ship have physical tumblers.
"Then again," Sevyn muttered, "there's the also the possibility that whoever designed this ship was infinitely crazy."
Unfortunately the unlocking door also seemed to call to life several automated turrets, all of which began lasering everything. Since it is almost universally accepted that being lasered is a bad thing, Sevyn forcefully pulled Jemini into a position where she blocked the turrets from Sevyn. The drone began loudly complaining as she always did as things began lasering her body while Sevyn unfolded her weapon and began firing in kind as she slowly retreated back toward the door the vixen had just opened.
At least, Sevyn hoped that the lights coming on were her doing and not because of some emergency power that was reactivated automatically. Nevertheless, the lights gave her some hope that she was doing something right with the console, despite the blasted code changing and rewriting itself over and over again as she tried to get the code to resemble anything that would be close to normal.
Her efforts were not helped when Hundred flew violently into the corridor (though it seemed she had done a swell job locking the open door back up; better than that other one was doing anyway with his pushing and grunting), did some fancy doothing with her Dust, then rudely stomping loudly toward the obviously working Syndarin. On top of that, she had the audacity to shove her dirty mug into Sevyn's faceplate. Honestly the woman had no manners. Did she not know how long Sevyn was going to have to spend cleaning her faceplate? Okay well admittedly not long - in fact it was already clean - but still. Manners.
It only got more annoying once the Giygan began speaking.
"I'm sorry, princess," Sevyn replied in mock apology in a tone reserved for infants and the mentally retarded. "I didn't know the wittle clone was scared of a few big bad drones. I'm sorry for not being able to hold your hand the entire time, but I promise the next time when we go out on a space adventure where I have to choose between finding us an entrance or helping you squash little bugs, I'll help you with the bugs."
Just then the console Sevyn had been working on exploded in her face, the resulting blast sending out pure electric hate that only confirmed the Syndarin's suspicions that it hated her, despite her being the most arguably qualified to work with the ship's software. Or maybe it was because she was the most qualified with the software.
Off to her left, Sevyn could hear Jemini repeatedly whirring in what sounded suspiciously like mocking laughter.
Sevyn shook her head in disgust, standing up and taking a moment to stop her ears from ringing and her vision to not be all white and flashy. Once both had returned to normal, she dusted herself off and began working on the next console. Once she had cracked into the code again, she deigned to answer Hundred's question.
"I'm sure you know as well as I do that nothing was spared in the construction of this ship. That included the software. Whoever built this ship had also commissioned someone to write an entirely new language for the Lone Star's software. Normally not a problem, as a language is a language; once you learn it and know how to use it everything's all fine and dandy. Unfortunately whoever wrote this code was some demonic genius, since the code keeps constantly changing and adapting by itself." Sevyn frowned as the code did just that right beneath her fingertips again, and she smacked the console in retaliation.
"Like this, see. The moment you get close to telling it to do something you want, it just rewrites itself into something completely new. There may be a pattern, or there may be some entity controlling the software which I-" Sevyn paused as she heard the tiny click click clicks of tumblers unlocking under the vixen's graceful hands. Which Sevyn thought was all fine and dandy of course, considering they couldn't spend all day in the hallway but, physical tumblers. Why would this ship have physical tumblers.
"Then again," Sevyn muttered, "there's the also the possibility that whoever designed this ship was infinitely crazy."
Unfortunately the unlocking door also seemed to call to life several automated turrets, all of which began lasering everything. Since it is almost universally accepted that being lasered is a bad thing, Sevyn forcefully pulled Jemini into a position where she blocked the turrets from Sevyn. The drone began loudly complaining as she always did as things began lasering her body while Sevyn unfolded her weapon and began firing in kind as she slowly retreated back toward the door the vixen had just opened.
The ladder carriers arrived with minimal casualties. Soon afterward, most of the defenders of the wall fell and the gate was opened to the rest of the company. The rest of the keep was taken swiftly and easily, as was expected from the Ebon Hawks.
That didn't stop Soren from seeing scenes of the battle replay in his mind occasionally. A scene of blood here. A flash of terror there. It all blurred into an uncomfortable mess that he got used to drinking away at night, not yet used to the mental rigors it took to be a part of the Ebon Hawks. Ruthless, efficient, cunning, he had all these in spades, but he still had yet to figure out how to lock away his feelings for those he slew.
Many sleepless night were sure to follow today.
Fortunately the young recruit was still on duty and had to remain the stoic mercenary he had to be, which meant at least that he could turn off his mind and bury himself in his work. He had no time to grieve for the child he held in his hands who only a few hours ago was one of many the keep's defenders had armed, nor could he give mind to the woman that he was supposed to dump into the pit next who only recently was waving a knife around, mad with grief over the death of her son.
It was unpleasant work and they had tried to save those that they could, but many people do strange things when their backs are forced against the walls.
Soren heaved the child's body into the grave with a grunt before moving onto the woman next. The mercenary swore under his breath as he tried to lift the woman by himself. He took a few slow, lumbering steps before dropping her quickly and calling over Tinder with his grave detail. The mage shook his head, spouting some excuse of seeing to another burial detail. The recruit had some choice words to say about that, but the recruit thought better and sighed, resigning himself to filling this particular burial pit himself.
The Lieutenant grumbled as she was called away from the breakdown of the siege engines. While deep down she knew any person in the company could take down the engines better than any regular army engineer, she still fretted that one of the idiots would impossibly ruin something as they often tended to do.
The goblin's nose crinkled as the smell of charred flesh wafted downwind toward the original camp.
There were rumors that some nondescript disease was running rampant through the keep even before the company came. Of course they only found that out after they had stormed through the gates and saw a mass of corpses already piling on one side of the camp. The healers and mages did the best they could to contain the isolated cases of the disease popping up among the soldiers, having already set up a quarantine area all around the keep as they did their best to eradicate whatever traces of the disease is left.
All very important and dire stuff, the Lieutenant understood, but still, could they have at least burned the bodies where the smell wouldn't spread all over the damn place.
The Captain, looking no worse for the wear than he did last night, stood in the same tent at the same briefing table as last night, since the keep was apparently currently uninhabitable. People, he could handle, but diseases were another headache entirely. His healers assured it was nothing they couldn't handle - as long as the mages stayed out of their way of course, with the mages feeling much the same toward the doctors and healers. It was frustrating to deal with the two groups to say the least.
Suddenly both of his tent flaps burst inwardly to make way for Patcher and That Old Grizzly Fart (Grizzly to people he hadn't completely alienated himself from), the company's head doctor and wizard respectively. They came in, mouths already chattering about this problem or that with some person or another, the Captain didn't know, and he didn't particularly care. What he did care about was their incessant screeching was not helping with the constant migraine he had when dealing with either of them and they both of them together made everything exponentially worse.
The Captain pretended to listen carefully and diligently as each person flung their figurative feces at the other before he raised a finger to silence both of them. Their arguing stopped immediately. The Captain held the finger up for a long while, enjoying the brief peace and quiet.
After the pounding in his head lessened ever so slightly, he pointed his finger back toward the flaps, away from them. The two head dunderheads opened their mouths in protest, each about to say something that the Captain probably wouldn't care about. All argument went away once the elf turned his tired look into a hard glare that cowed the both of them, a glare that was practiced and perfected over literal centuries. The message was clear, and both heads began storming out, thankfully waiting a good distance away until they began their squabble again.
'They are all literally children,' the elf though exasperatedly as he began looking over his plans and reports again, their next destination not pleasing him at all.
That didn't stop Soren from seeing scenes of the battle replay in his mind occasionally. A scene of blood here. A flash of terror there. It all blurred into an uncomfortable mess that he got used to drinking away at night, not yet used to the mental rigors it took to be a part of the Ebon Hawks. Ruthless, efficient, cunning, he had all these in spades, but he still had yet to figure out how to lock away his feelings for those he slew.
Many sleepless night were sure to follow today.
Fortunately the young recruit was still on duty and had to remain the stoic mercenary he had to be, which meant at least that he could turn off his mind and bury himself in his work. He had no time to grieve for the child he held in his hands who only a few hours ago was one of many the keep's defenders had armed, nor could he give mind to the woman that he was supposed to dump into the pit next who only recently was waving a knife around, mad with grief over the death of her son.
It was unpleasant work and they had tried to save those that they could, but many people do strange things when their backs are forced against the walls.
Soren heaved the child's body into the grave with a grunt before moving onto the woman next. The mercenary swore under his breath as he tried to lift the woman by himself. He took a few slow, lumbering steps before dropping her quickly and calling over Tinder with his grave detail. The mage shook his head, spouting some excuse of seeing to another burial detail. The recruit had some choice words to say about that, but the recruit thought better and sighed, resigning himself to filling this particular burial pit himself.
- - -
The Lieutenant grumbled as she was called away from the breakdown of the siege engines. While deep down she knew any person in the company could take down the engines better than any regular army engineer, she still fretted that one of the idiots would impossibly ruin something as they often tended to do.
The goblin's nose crinkled as the smell of charred flesh wafted downwind toward the original camp.
There were rumors that some nondescript disease was running rampant through the keep even before the company came. Of course they only found that out after they had stormed through the gates and saw a mass of corpses already piling on one side of the camp. The healers and mages did the best they could to contain the isolated cases of the disease popping up among the soldiers, having already set up a quarantine area all around the keep as they did their best to eradicate whatever traces of the disease is left.
All very important and dire stuff, the Lieutenant understood, but still, could they have at least burned the bodies where the smell wouldn't spread all over the damn place.
- - -
The Captain, looking no worse for the wear than he did last night, stood in the same tent at the same briefing table as last night, since the keep was apparently currently uninhabitable. People, he could handle, but diseases were another headache entirely. His healers assured it was nothing they couldn't handle - as long as the mages stayed out of their way of course, with the mages feeling much the same toward the doctors and healers. It was frustrating to deal with the two groups to say the least.
Suddenly both of his tent flaps burst inwardly to make way for Patcher and That Old Grizzly Fart (Grizzly to people he hadn't completely alienated himself from), the company's head doctor and wizard respectively. They came in, mouths already chattering about this problem or that with some person or another, the Captain didn't know, and he didn't particularly care. What he did care about was their incessant screeching was not helping with the constant migraine he had when dealing with either of them and they both of them together made everything exponentially worse.
The Captain pretended to listen carefully and diligently as each person flung their figurative feces at the other before he raised a finger to silence both of them. Their arguing stopped immediately. The Captain held the finger up for a long while, enjoying the brief peace and quiet.
After the pounding in his head lessened ever so slightly, he pointed his finger back toward the flaps, away from them. The two head dunderheads opened their mouths in protest, each about to say something that the Captain probably wouldn't care about. All argument went away once the elf turned his tired look into a hard glare that cowed the both of them, a glare that was practiced and perfected over literal centuries. The message was clear, and both heads began storming out, thankfully waiting a good distance away until they began their squabble again.
'They are all literally children,' the elf though exasperatedly as he began looking over his plans and reports again, their next destination not pleasing him at all.
Will be making a post tonight \o/
or wait i lied sorry bogged down with shit probably won't be able to post for another few days
do what you will with my character terribly sorry
do what you will with my character terribly sorry
sorry been busy will get a post up tonight
Waiting for John's post before posting further
<Snipped quote by Tenish the Mighty>
You really could have summarised that with just "Hundred has the hots for Sevyn".
Edit: "and will melt into a puddle of goo when Sevyn talks all technical about engineering and flying."
It's too bad Sevyn will probably never be able to personally teach Hundred about any variety of docking bay procedures due to you know, the whole biological evolution thing Syndarins have got going on, what with the high pressure and needing laughing gas to live and all. Unless we get into some freaky deaky VR/suit attachment shit.
Man, now I'm thinking how it'd be awesome if Syndarins were like the Asari where they could mate with virtually anything and have weird alien babies, but can't because fuck you, biology.
@Bonjour xx Wait, could she even see if you had a gash on your head?? You're wearing a helmet aren't you?
There could be blood on the inside of his faceplate from where his forehead had hit against it.
Nah that's just a jelly packet Favris keeps in his helmet for emergency reasons
@SimplyJohn
Hows about I go to the engine room then and see what delicious happenings are going on, since I didn't realize we would pass by the main hanger to get to the front, though I'm sure Sevyn would know that yes?
Hows about I go to the engine room then and see what delicious happenings are going on, since I didn't realize we would pass by the main hanger to get to the front, though I'm sure Sevyn would know that yes?
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