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Alanna too takes rest with the group. Though not overly taxed by the battle, one could never know when the least bit of energy could be the turning point in battle. "Is it weird that I want it even more now?" Wraith answers back at Bravo. "Can anyone see if those things are any good? Even a trap might be worth springing if the bait is tasty enough."
"AH!" Wraith screams girlishly as her foe lands a palpable hit. "Oh you fragging trog. I will frag your fragging hoop. You drek-sucking trog I will frag up your drek so fast you'll..." she keeps up a foul-mouthed tirade as her wrist-comp shorts out a long-forgotten multiadaptive sensor net and zaps it in the ribs, shoulder, and index finger.
Wraith giggles at Soundbyte's soundbite. She had seen the entire series of that old vid and always got a kick out of it. "Crikey! It's the third most dangerous screaming newt in the world. I shall now stuff down me pants!" While laughing she hits a button on her wrist. A pair of dirty, half-buried stabilizers under her yellow attacker's feet short out, zapping it in the ear-lobe, kidney, and finger.
"At least they're not asking you to wear a pretty dress!" she says laughingly at Soundbyte, as something that would make a deal get worse. "We can't just borrow a skiff to get us to the tower and back?" Alanna asks, rhetorically as they head into the heart of darkness.
"Oh, lust, definitely," Alanna chirps to the devil's question. "Oh, wait, you said 'for' not 'with'. Sorry." She stays quiet for the rest of the elevator ride while she checks and re-loads her weapons. "Um, what is in this jungle? Lifeforms? And how far is it that it needs rest areas? And what are these rest areas like? And how long will it take to traverse this? Also, aren't we also breaking that construction clause be traversing it? Or are we immune to contracts somehow? 'Cause that would be awesome."
"Yes! Thank you!" Wraith calls to the crowd, her voice showing only a touch of hoarseness from constant yelling. "Make sure to follow me on Motiv8, drIve, and WaveCount! Wait, how the butt does that complete a form?" Alanna wonders outloud as she follows Bravo out. "Forms are usually a -lot- more boring than that."
Wraith raises her hands up to the sky and looks out to the crowd, shouting and smiling as if she just single-handedly won the Urban Brawl Championship. "YES! Yeeeeeees! We came, we saw, we shot it in the face with guns!" she yells to a crowd that is, at least, clearly present. Pointing out to a lone cheering figure she yells, "No, _you_ rock, and you know that!" which is quickly followed by a double-point and the yelled lyrics, "We alone are fighting for metal that is true!
It's clear that this is going to go on for as long as its allowed.
"That didn't make any sense, but okay," Bravo comments as he keeps his eyes trained on the imp. "See, I was making fun of him," Wraith answers in a chirpy tone. "The only thing keeping him from dying out here was his big dumb friend with the doing the smashy-smashy. But now he's dead, and I was pointing that out. And then I was being ironic saying I cared about him, talking like I was sending a dozen bottles of Andorian brandy or something, but I'm actually shooting him. Sorry, was I bein' too high falutin'? Yeah, I get that a lot."
"Ha! Yeah, not such a big shot now that yer big slimy sweaty meat shield is not swiftly ASSuming room temperature, huh ya big trog!" Wraith knows that if you're not yelling insults during a fight, you're just not taking it seriously. "It's okay, little guy. I still care about ya! In fact I care so much I care enough to send my very best," she finishes as she sends a high-grain sniper bullet into his softer parts.
Alanna first giggles at the odd bearucratic threat, and then gafaws, and finally starts a full-throat laughter. "And YOU'LL never qualify for low-equity mortgage with little or no down and an APR that a modern-day family can afford! Rue your credit score! Rue it!!" She's still laughing as she tries to take another shot at the little guy and has to admit that it may have thrown her aim off.
"Huh, he just gave us a defense against his meat-brick guy. Well that's nice of him," Wraith quips as she stalks forward and unshoulders her sniper rifle. "If you guys wanna defend this side of the grease-trap while I kill them both from far-away death, I think that might be nice." She zeroes in on the flittering imp and sends a package of a high-grade sniper round.
Wraith beams under the devil's praise, giving him a great toothy smile. However, anyone who's known her for any amount of time knows that a smile of _that_ size is completely condescending. It's more of an acknowledgment that someone thought she couldn't do a thing, but then she did it, and is rubbing it in their face without "looking" like she's rubbing it in their face. She's subtle like that. "You forgot slurred speech, temporary blindness, profuse sweating, or heart palpitations," she tosses back at Soundbyte. "Also, do not taunt Happy Fun Ball."
"'Scuse me, I think I got dis," Alanna pipes up, yanking the papers away from Bravo. "I kinda took an elective in something like this," she says, cryptically, by way of explanation. She takes in a biiiig breath that seems to go on forever. It's as if she's filling lungs in places that most people don't have places. After a full minute of of just breath-intake, she begins. "Whereas the Party of the First Part heretofore known as PFP shall render unto the Party of the Second Part heretofore known as The Party shall henceforth be subject to all the Rights, Regulations and Statues written herein. Inability to Comply Due to Statute or Regulation. If it is used interactively. Unless explicitly specified when applying the license grants set forth in this license. General Provisions (10) Any use, reproduction or distribution of the Work, you should contact the Copyright Holder explicitly and prominently states near the copyright or copyrights for the licensee to freely copy, modify and redistribute the Modified Version available to Licensee on an 'AS IS' basis, WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY REMEDY. SOME JURISDICTIONS DO NOT ALLOW THE EXCLUSION OR LIMITATION OF INCIDENTAL OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES ARISING OUT OF THE COVERED CODE PROVE DEFECTIVE IN ANY WAY OUT OF THE PROGRAM "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF TITLE, NON-INFRINGEMENT, MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE OR THAT DEFECTS IN THE COVERED CODE IS PROVIDED BY THE PHP DEVELOPMENT TEAM ``AS IS'' AND ANY EXPRESSED OR IMPLIED INCLUDING, WITHOUT LIMITATION, DAMAGES FOR LOSS OF USE, DATA, OR PROFITS; OR BUSINESS INTERRUPTION) HOWEVER CAUSED AND ON ANY THEORY OF LIABILITY, WHETHER IN CONTRACT, STRICT LIABILITY, OR TORT (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR OTHERWISE) ARISING IN ANY WAY OUT OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. EXPORT CONTROL Recipient agrees that maintenance of the source code must retain and reproduce in all copies of Original Code under the terms of Sections 1 and 2 shall be deemed to create any relationship of agency, partnership, joint venture between BeOpen and Licensee. This License does not grant permission to modify or distribute the Program if, at the time of receipt of notice You either: (i) agree in writing of such damages. Accepting Warranty or Additional Liability...." She goes on like that for forty-five minutes, without a break or pause, reading the the whole of the form.
'Wait those two were dudes?' Wraith thinks passively as the two leave her owning the field of battle. She shrugs and forgets about the whole thing (literally) and steps up. "Greetings!" she says with aplomb as she whips out the Official Paperwork. "_I_ am Alanna WhiteAngel, and I am here on official Starfinder business to finalize transfer of an artifact into Society custody." She feels like going on, but she knows that more words might just confuse the poor dears.
As soon as the argument started, Alanna only gave it a few moments before inserting her own opinion on how things -aught- to have gone. Ever has she acted as if she was physically allergic to waiting for an invitation, and the surreal-ness of the situation did nothing to impede it. "Sheyeah! I'd've asked for at LEAST ten percent more than that! I mean, if it was me, you'd've paid 15 percent more, but you don't really have that option do ya." "Oh please, you couldn't pilot that thing nearly that well. The 08-series paraphoretic conduits were always too wonky." "Honey. Girl. Girl honey honey girl. You could do SO much better. If he takes that much work he is SO not worth it. Soon as I'm done here lets get gussied up an' go get sloppy an' find you a hard drive worth yer time."
Seeing the long lines Alanna calls up her inner HUD. She's been trying to beat every level of Lords of the Realm 44 and could really use the time that a long line provides. "That sounds like something I'd say when I'm, like, -totally- late. Imma 'member that. Gratitude," Wraith says, fitting away Soundbyte's soundbite for later. She thinks about the ultra-logical procedures that she's heard of and juxtapositions it with Bravo's distrust of the obvious.
"Have you tried resonating the transponder with a bioregenerative transporter chamber? I find that always helps me," Alanna says happily at the gnomes. She has no idea if that was at all impactful, but based on what they were talking about, there was at least a non-zero chance it helped. And if it didn't? Well, then it's funny. To her. And that's what's important. "And let's get it done as quick as can be," she answers at Roskar. "Even _I_ don't wanna spend too much time here. Probably."
Alanna listens carefully to the data about the meeting, and then looks at Soundbyte as if she has no idea what he's talking about. Mainly because she doesn't. Turning back to Historia she says, "Um, any chance we can get a copy of said writ, along with anything your legal department can wrangle up about 'If said couriers of said contract are in any way tampered with, kidnapped, tortured for all eternity, or forced to have hot pokers shoved in various parts of them, then the party of the first part will pay the party of the second part a metric fragton of credits'? Or somesuch? Or else there's nothing much to stop them just grabbing us and returning the paperwork using their own people while saying 'Give what couriers back?'"
Alanna straightens up, apparently pleased with the look of hte SRO. "Yeppers," is all she comments on the observation, apparently taking it as a compliment. "And, ya, you could say that, Bravo. As much as the ancient Knights Templar were an offshot brand of...whatever they were an offshot of, the Order is much the same thing. Starfinders do what they can," she observes, sitting back down. "The Order of the White Angel...does what is necessary. We're a good lot. My meat body got in a bad way--still don't remember exactly what--and they were good enough to back me up and reboot me in this mad phat chrome can you see before you." She does a small bow.
Oh my lord, It's you again Atlas. Ha! And good to see you again, sir! You see, Therenger? My reputation precedes me! And, yes, part of my ongoing internal universe (which I call the WhiteAngelVerse) is that Wraith lets me get my inner Shadowruner out. (Srsly, one time I played her in a MechWarrior game and we all agreed that since it was all FASA, it was cannon that SR was part of recorded Inner Sphere history. =) Also, it seems to fit the fiction well. Machine and Magic meet Man and all that.
"Hoi chummers, I'm Wraith," says Wraith, her voice-modulator adding a background rift of grinding metal guitar. Then she doesn't say anything, but eventually decides that more words might be more proper for an initial greeting. "Alanna Whiteangel, Order of the White Angel, as it goes," she does a small curtsy. "Y'all got the bang-bang down, and I ain't saying Imma lay down in that department, but I'm just as comfy tripping the virtual light fantastic as I am doing the man-dance." Her eyes land on Soundbyte and suddenly she can't look away. Her head tilts first one way and then another, like a veteran fisherman seeing a Castrovelian rainbow shrimp for the first time. "Oooooo. Full robot form?" she coos looking him up and down. "I mean, I've seen some chrome in my time, heh," she laughs a bit, like a full drum kit playing Jingle Bells, as she indicates her own full-chrome status, "but, chummer, whoa." It's like she's impressed to find someone with even MOAR Cyber than herself.
My own intro: Full. ErsAtz. Conversion. The process of transforming someone who was born a biological person, and replacing the meat until they resemble more machine than man. Mostly they just call it FEAR. Alison was born a human. She was the opposite of special. Just another gutterpunk on Absalom scratching out what she called a life. A little kitbash here, a little wetwork there, it put synthMEAT on the table, with four different flavors on tap. Somewhere, somehow, things went sideways. She doesn't talk about it. Much. There was a boy named Derrick. And a bottle. And someone...else. She does remember waking up. She saw...him. HighFather. The Leader. High Father Joakim. He had saved her. He and his Order of the White Angel. Yes, they were Starfinders. Sort of. And yes, she owed them. She wanted to, of course, but that didn't change much. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, ready to cash whatever check they wanted written. "You will be told what to do, but not how to do it." His voice was soft and cool, yet firm. Like a high-caliber sniper round made of silk. "You guys don't sound like Starfinders." "You will work with them. They are good people. They do what they can. We do... ...what is necessary."
Wraith sees the electrified shells in slow-motion as her attempt to move out of the way fails and they SLAM into her fashionably trendy-yet-functional ballistic armor. = 11 hits The nuyen paid for the armor works double time, absorbing most of the blow. But not all of it, and she starts bleeding from the hip. "It's on now, chummer," she grunts through gritted teeth.
Okay, okay, alright. We got it down here. Mind you, it looks like there isn't an Overwatch action, but there is a Delay Initiative. With "Nothing else to do" that is what I would have done, so it looks like this: IP 1
IP 2
IP 3
Okay. That seems fine. You are correct in that I would not have had enough Initiative to try to Dodge, and with that crap of a roll >.< I wouldn't Edge a losing dodge . Hence, I owe you an Edge'd soak roll. Party on. =) |
