Search Posts
Land grows slightly paler as he realizes that he has managed to make a grievous mistake in his very introduction.
Land had been tapping his foot awkwardly on the meeting point for the last few hours.
He raises his hand in a salute, only to have his eyes widen in shock and his hand shooting back into place as he realizes he is supposed to be in disguise.
We're leaning back, sipping drinks and waiting to shoot up some shit.
THE GUYS: Land takes a look around the garden, trying to set up a few possible escape routes, in case things should go haywire.
The Hold would be quite a location to fulfill a hit at. It seemed that there would be too many eyes and too many mouths to share their deeds. ”Do we have a plan of action or are we merely going into the fray, blasting everything that moves? Hopefully not, so /what/ do we do?
The Lads: Land merely stares ahead of himself, trusting the seemingly competent Drovic with the diplomatic relationship business.
He does nod once in a while, having deemed it fitting in a polite conversation to do so. He seems totally resigned to fulfill his role as military muscle and nothing more. If nothing new comes up, he just snaps his heels together and prepares his equipment to handle the issue at hand.
I swear, whenever I feel safe and confident that I can go at least a couple of days without checking the thread, because the females members of the thread has been so busy, suddenly everything springs into motion again and high-adventure resumes for us laddies.
For now, I have some yard work to do.
Warehouse Roof: Land shuffles uncomfortably in his position, the unscrewed scope still pointed directly at the mage’s damnable tower. He had lost the feeling in his legs several hours ago, but he knew that too much movement might attract unwanted attention, so he had remained as still as it was possible for a mere human, and then some.
But his legs were roaring with pain, the loss of blood circulation quite evident to his numbed mind, however, he did pause to acknowledge Drovic’s leaving.
After all, as long as he continued to do so, he would be safeguarding his family.
Yessir! Let them suffer terrribly.
Oh, I was actually semi-considering taking that feat.
Edit: In other news, what do you fellows think of the new Occult Adventure classes? I'll be looking forward to playing a con-man as a mesmerist.
I think our primary benefit in a PvP situation should be the terrain itself. Casters can do a lot of damage, but that damage is severely limited if his targets are spread apart. If I could get the time to position myself on a rooftop, I could personally inflict more than a few twings of pain on both heavily armored and those darn mages as well.
Warehouse: Land has long since devolved into just starring absent-mindedly into his own musket-scope, only barely registering those passing by his crosshair. He does however casually hold out his hand to make a brief note of the guardsman. He makes sure to describe the guardman's physical features and his attire. "That one" He points out towards the enchanted guardsman in question. "... is under some form of veiling illusion. Damnable mages.
Hmh. How effective is it to seek out the most painless option in every situation that includes fighting? A tactical retreat. A.K.A:
Warehouse: Land merely remains crouched against the edge of the roof, a spyglass plastered in his face. He hums a merry little tune for himself as he peers endlessly at the tower, only pausing to shuffle around and try to get a bit more comfortable.
Warehouses: Land scratches at the ridge of his nose, as he uses a moment to peer at the steep wall. He fiddles around with his coat pockets, before withdrawing a neatly folded set of thieves' tools.
He whispers a hasty reply, in the guild's language, before turning his head towards the door again. "Come to think of it, climbing was never my strong suit. Why don't we just take the front entrance?"
Brick/Drovic: After having climbed out of his comfortable seat, Land frisked his own coat down and checked everything was in place. Fate had played him like a fiddle before, when it came to missing equipment before a major operation, but he had learned enough from it to be quite certain that checking your satchel prior to a job was paramount. Without further warning, he strayed out of the door and disappeared amongst the crowd. Just another faceless body in an everlasting sea of filth and tyranny. Oh, he would savor the moment he could see the Tower ablaze, the scattered ashes of the faithless mages strewn upon the feces of the gutter. Not unlike what they had done to his ancestors, a few centuries ago.
--- That same bitterness was welling in his throat as he reunited with Brick, his cybernetic eyes working to readjust to the slimy, strangulation darkness of the alleyway. The newly disemboweled and cleaned musket was perched over his shoulder as he tried to sneak silently through the brickwork, his every step muffled by his caution. His only greeting to Brick was a careful, nearly hesitating tilt of his head. He scrutinized the warehouse in the distance and considered for a moment if he could successfully scale it without risking being caught. He ran his fingers over his chin, as he whispered discreetly to Brick. "I could easily scale the wall and get a proper view of the area or at least get a proper view of the warehouse itself."
Ah, these peaceful and quiet weekends. Just the time for a little bike trip through the country-side. Or it would have been, if Denmark wasn't suffering under drizzling rain.
The Clinkin' Cup: Land peers intensely at the content of his two, still brimming full, beverages. He twists and turns one of them in his hand, watching with some ill-hidden captivation as the content swirls around in the glass, he pays attention to the chattering only halfway, but from the mere chippers he was catching of the conversation, he did have something to say. In the guild tongue, of course. ”The clearest Operation Plan must be to elect a warehouse, wait until all non-combatants are racking out and then we ghost into the upper areas and hunker down with spy-glasses.”
The Clinkin' Cup: Arkhan takes a solitary look at the drink, before gently pushing it aside with the back of his hand. His lips curls up into a wide, beaming grin, giving him a somewhat unsettling appearance. The faint whirring continues, seeming more and more like the sound of a buzzing fly that you just cannot sway away. He replies in the guild language: ”I utilize a combustion driven weaponry to eliminate high-priority Code 647Es from a distance. This device, a combustion-based-weapon, or a CBW, causes immense physical trauma to the Code 647E and ensures its permanent demise. Given enough time and continued use of the CBW, that is.”
The Clinkin' Cup: Arkhan seems unusually jumpy, he nearly leaps headway out of his seat as soon as he realizes that somebody actually managed to sneak up on his position. Only due to a feat of control, does he manage to reduce it to a visible shudder and he quickly twists his body to observe the newcomer. Despite of his shock, he quickly composes himself and his facial expression seems only to display a queer mixture of
He doesn't seem to recognize the pale being and a faint, nearly implacable whirring sound is emitted beyond his heavy pair of googles. His cybernetic eyes twists, turns and rotates madly to get a proper view of Drovic. The fine clockwork machinery tinkers and works within his miniature head compartment, as it works to send the correct signal to his brain. However, even machinery seems to fall to the cleverly laid illusion and Arkhan fails to see anything ut the pale, humanoid being. The distrust and contempt bred from the civil war and a life-time of paranoia, however, only makes him gaze back at Brick, and wait for a reaction from him.
Brick: Arkhan’s eyes flacks around the room for a moment, as the silence is broken, however, he quickly steadies himself when he comes to realize that the sound was merely Brick’s speech. Perhaps too many hours of isolation within his countless safe-houses and barricaded rooms was slowly taking a toll on his mind. He was slowly falling behind on his attendance to the countless services to Brigh as well, so the idea of raising a private altar within one of his more permanent domiciles kept becoming more and more enticing. He blinked rapidly for a moment, as he realized he had just been gazing idly at Brick’s lips while pondering.
To avoid losing face, he merely nodded agreeing, giving Brick his best attempt at a friendly smile and added: ”Ten-four, that sounds like a sensible plan, let us do that at once then.” He patted himself on the head internally. Whew. He had just dodged a social bullet.
Brick: Arkhan, having learned that this brutish Brick fellow was reliable enough, if just a bit primitive, trusted he would weed out any strange movement in the background. Instead Land continued prattling on in the Guild’s local tongue, throwing in his queer numerical phrases at pre-selected moments: ”Negative, we will have to secure a fitting 10-20 ourselves.”
Land was not one to be ill-prepared for such junctures and seeing as he had long since eschewed the permanent use of any one location as his base of operations, he was used to always being on the move and as thus kept all of his personal belongings on his own person. As thus, he was currently stocked with more than enough rations and equipment to hunker down in any shabby building for the next couple of months, if the need should arise.
Arkhan and Brick: While visibly uneased by being in such a constricted, garish and loud room, Arkhan does eventually dump himself into a chair after a moment of peering perceptibly at everybody in the full room. He seems satisfied with the results of his scrutiny of the chamber and lets his strange, metallic and heavily modified armament slip into his jacket.
Where it seemingly disappears without a trace, not leaving as much as a lump on his attire. After giving his coat a quick pat and glancing side-long over his shoulder once more, he moves into the guild’s tongue, speaking it in a primitive, only half-way versed manner.
Brick: Tracking the target was a stress-free and easy task for Mister Land. A mere hour after he had been informed of his new assignment, he was up-to-date with the fact that somebody was moving through the city, asking too many questions about his current location. The cross-hair was so delicate and so finely tuned in its designed and the scope so accurate in its attunement, that hardly feared missing the man at all. Then, with a chance luck, the man turned his head slightly and Land made a drained, exhausted sigh. A few moments more and a bullet would have pieced Brick’s tender, sweet and frail flesh.
His tactically sound and practical location, however, took a moment to scale down from. While a sharpshooter perched on the top of a roof could inflict massive amounts of damage, both precise and collateral, Land had experienced with experience and time that getting to such a location was more bothersome than he was comfortable with. So, after being stuck in a tacky thorn bush and messing up his coat, Land finally managed to reach the main street and catch up with Brick.
Arkhan: If Land was surprised by the sudden the appearance of the hulking beast, then his facial expression does very little to betray this fact, in fact, the only greeting he extends is the pointed barrel shoved directly into Anothony’s face. Arkhan pauses for a moment, peering over the custom constructed scope of his musket, as recognition sets in. After peering over his shoulder to ensure that he isn’t being watched, he lets the musket fall to his side and enters the ally. A soft, nearly purring whirring pieces the air as Arkhan’s cybernetic eyes rotates in their socket, zooming in on the unfamiliar design of the comparatively crude suit. A whizzing sound heralds the sudden change of the cyber eye’s mode, as it begins observing the tech on another light-spectrum. The implanted lenses shifts from a deep blue to a more mellow green, as Land inspects the male’s facial features.
Heavens forbids it! I had not realized that things had begun rolling in the game-play section. I will jump into the fray after I have rested.
Ask and I shall shall deliver.
I am taking some very visible steps in improving my manners, clearly.
Yessssssss. This superior musket can provide me with additonal measures of DAKKA!
our beloved, honorable and witty DMI'm not sure sucking up works with GM Ascension, but please let me know if it does. It is not beneath me to do some if I can get some cheap gains at the back end of it. ;P Heck, it seemed like it was worth a shot.
As soon our beloved, honorable and witty DM answers a few quiries I have made, I will have my concept at hand.
Say, Drovic. On a scale from 1 to 10, how likely are you to disperse Haste under and pre combat?
Arkhan Land, master of sharpshooting and pest removal reporting for duty!
|
