Brother Larimore's page

Having finished his quick rite for the dead, Larimore turns to the rest of the group and grabbed a small roll of tools off of the side of his backpack. The heavy looking warhammer strapped to it doesn't sway one inch, tied down securely.

"I will..." Larimore said with a simple nod as he started to look around the room. Ignoring their conversation for the most part, he pulls a pry-bar from the roll of tools and begins to look for an accessible computer in the area that they are in. "...if there's any damage to the hard drives or the wiring I can repair, but I am not a cryptographer. Do we have sufficient access cards or codes?"

Larimore paused to look at them all for a moment before turning back to his search.

"Bharek...do you know if this vessel contained some sort of personnel locator system?"

Tellek glares at Sejah. He, slowly, draws his gun and grips the slide, pulling it back until the bullet pops out the back of the gun. He holds the slug up, then flicks it out into the elevator shaft. "Happy?" He slides the gun back into it's holster.

"Now you're going to have to go get it. We can't have loose ordinance risking being exposed to open electrical."

Larimore turned to the others after inspecting the bodies and pulled out his datapad, looking to see if a map of the corridors was inside.

A small smirk formed at the side of Larimore's face.

"A joke. No need to chase it. But do be careful of debris. There's no telling whether or not we have exposed hazards, but I lean towards the notion that we do." He added, finally turning back to the bodies, speaking quietly over them.

"Greatest Ironborne, the father of the forge, the smith and the anvil. Gratitude to this creation of your will for protecting your crew from a cold death in the void. May their souls be ushered to the grey lands of the beyond, and may your machinations deliver them to whichever gods they serve. I, your servant, request you guide me further to do thy bidding. Integer vitae scelerisque purus." He motioned as he spoke over the bodies and splashed a small drop of holy water on the deck before them.

I cans wikipedias! "integer vitae scelerisque purus" means "Unimpaired by life and clean of wickedness" and would have been said in the "Celestial" language. (Which I'm assuming sounds alot like latin). I probably won't drop latin phrases often.

"She does have a point...." Larimore stated as he stopped to look at Tellek and Gast. Tilting his head a little, still inside of his suit's helm regardless of the breathable atmo, his eyes fall on the gun in Tellek's hands.

"...but I'm more interested in why your first instinct was to draw a gun to defend yourself, Sharpshooter. Especially when it's the ship's breaking that killed all of these crewmembers." Larimore said, turning back to the bodies, looking for wounds or damage on the carcasses that didn't fit. Seeking bulletwounds and slashes, he finished his statement. "Tell us what you know of the attack?"

"If he's an intelligent man he'll realize that his only way alive off of this ship is with us. That, and taking any of us hostage is a worthless endeavor being that no one in their right mind would send in a first crew that wasn't on some level expendable..." Larimore replies, watching Tellek with a small dark shrug as his eyes turn to Rakti. Still holding his blaster rifle, he starts to look around and then starts heading towards the corpses. Still with one hand on his blaster rifle, he starts to observe the dead with his free left hand. Perhaps in shock to many, the cleric takes not one single motion to bless their dead bodies, but starts to inspect them for identification, access badges, and any usable equipment.

"The only two questions I have for these people are these. One. How did you survive this area where all of these others did not? Two. What is or was your purpose on this ship and do you have any access badges or detailed information about damage to the ship that could be of use?" Larimore says flatly, again with that gravelly voice tempered through a lifetime on a desert world. Smiling softly, he motions to the rest of his group.

"Feel free to direct any response in their direction..." Larimore nods in Bharek's direction before turning his right arm (bearing the blaster) away from the two survivors as he pokes through the bodies. "...I have work to do."

Brother Larimore turned to watch Bharek speak for a moment. A silent nod of recognition was made with a slow lowering of his protective helmet. His eyes slowly turned to watch Sejah for a moment, a small wry smile formed over his lips as if to thank her for the coverage. Pulling the blaster rifle off of his own back, he gripped it in his right arm and glanced it over as he stopped before their entry point.

"Larimore at the entry..." He said over the comm as his shoulder jerked up and down quickly, followed by the distinct racking sound and whirring energy sound that came with racking a blaster rifle. Reaching out, he disengaged the vaccuum locks and went in first, eyes scanning. "...entering the deck now. May the Forge-God guide us."

sorry about another delay. One car stereo/ac console stolen. One car dying due to said console removal. One needy family member needing help buying meds. One profile on PC going corrupt and forcing me to completely overhaul itunes and one rental car later I'm proud to announce: I'm still alive.

Bharek gave a bare smile at the elf so readily stepping into her role as scout, and looked at the others, and engaged his comm, "Alright, people. This is only the beginning. Let's get done here as quickly as possible. Everyone into the shaft and I'll bring up the rear." Bharek surreptitiously glances down to ensure that Elan's grav boots are engaged and recheckes his own as well. He stares levelly down (up?) the shaft and gives a quiet sigh. Through his helmet he is seen to whisper something that he chose not to transmit.

Brother Larimore didn't notice the stares at his back as he glanced down to his right fist. Clenching and unclenching it, perhaps feeling a bit bare without his ceremonial armor as well, he did a final check of the gear that he did bring. His backpack was kept light and tightly shut, bearing his datapad and his tools. Securely fastened to the right side of the pack in a militant manner were his blaster rifle and his warhammer. Sadly, his armor and shield remained behind with the rest of his gear.

"Communications check. Reading you loud and clear, pilot." Larimore's gravelly voice suddenly muttered over the comm. Raising his head to peer through his visor at the elevator shaft, his face bore a grim sort of reverence that only a cleric of the smith would be feeling right now. This, in every sense of the word, was an autopsy to the man.

Stepping forward, just after Rakti, he reached up and grabbed one of the handholds, letting another worry about the egg-shaped spellware enviro-shield. In a rather ungraceful display of flexibility, the cleric slapped his heel onto the hull-metal of the elevator shaft and engaged the magnetic lock. It would be safe to assume he rarely danced or climbed rocks. Grunting a little over the communicator, he started up after Rakti.

"Rakti. Be on the lookout for what appears to look like mist, vibrating hull sections, bulged doors and -above all- anything that appears like a hazy mirage. There is no air here and it will always be something less pleasant. Corrosives will be a danger to us and our suits." Larimore stated, rising to his full height with both boots solidly connecting. Taking a hollow outline of metal shaped like a pie wedge from a pouch, he connected the caribeaner to his belt for when they decide to break out any rope.

"Do not for once think that this fallen child of the forge is a safe environment..." He muttered over the comm. "...the lack of oxygen is by far only one of the hazards. Above all things remember to exercise caution."

Spells for the day edited, see Larimore profile. Spells/domain spells chosen have an "X" next to them

Brother Antares took a slight second to take in the sight of the ISPD agent before shaking his head. He didn't care nor bother himself with the politics of the galaxy, but it didn't pass him that in the presence of an ISPD agent...he should.

"I require nothing, Lieutenant." He replied with a voice that was like soft sandpaper being brushed over his tongue. It was a common throaty accent from his dusty and sandblown world. "I am ready for you to continue at your convenience, but thank you for your offer."

Turning to regard all of them openly, Antares rose and folded his hands behind his back after slipping away his datapad.

Elan Sunshadow wrote:

The druid raised two fingers to signal his inquiry. "What is the population of this planet? The civilized population that can be accounted for, at least, and what level of urbanization has been achieved? Is the planet still largely unsettled or is there a vast network of cities in place already?"

"Kirinth is fairly populated, home to around six million. There are only two major settlements - the Capitol and Legionnaire outpost, and a central agricultural processing center diametrically opposite from that outpost. The 'six million' estimate, of course," He said, with a faint look of distaste. "Is before any casualties are tabulated from this event."

"As for urbanization, they are thoroughly concentrated in their cities, with the exception of those picked to operate the agricultural machinery. Kirinth was particularly resistant to occupation when the Explorer fleets arrived forty years ago. A great deal of pacification was necessary to achieve the state of peace and order we have now."

The Captain smiled, speaking with a measure of pride.

Looking over the datapad, Brother Larimore raised his hands slightly and pulled at the tips of the glove on his right hand. Exposing his bare, naked hand, he placed the thumb to the scanner on the datapad and held it in his left hand in a manner that what was contained would be for his eyes only. Speaking as his eyes fell over the screen of the small, technological wonder, he spoke plainly.

"How much, if any, preparation has been done to the Bringer of Reason to sustain its orbit around the planet thus far?" Larimore asked, raising an eyebrow to emphasize its point. "Or more directly, have calculations been done to verify how much time will elapse before the Bringer of Reason begins to enter the atmosphere of Kirinth Prime?"

Larimore looked up from his view of the datapad, having skimmed over the first bits of data.

"My reason of asking is this: Per my instructions, in reverance to the Forge-Gods as well as in reverance to the noble fleet, I am to assist in removing the danger of the Bringer of Reason from entering orbit and further damaging the populace. Once stabilized I am then to assist in urging the Bringer of Reason into its last rites, a funeral worthy of a Rapier class destroyer. Then, I am to assist in bringing these insurrectionists to justice. All things included, if we are on a clock to keep the Bringer of Reason from entering Kirinith Prime's atmosphere, that clock leads me to a few additional questions. Will we have additional staff and technicians at our disposal for the ship's recovery? Will we have starfighter support or gunnery support from this vessel? Lastly, once the Bringer of Reason is stabilized, shall I see to its last rites myself as the rest of the team begins their investigations, leaving the burial to her brothers and sisters in the fleet to rejoin my team after the blessings have been completed?"

Brother Larimore offered Elan a polite smile in return. While polite, it must have seemed a little strained. The druid was, after all, his polar opposite...at least by trade. His eyes blinked slowly as he turned to watch Elan for a moment, an expressionless look on his sand-hardened face. His hair would be a charming color, if not for what appears to be years of heat, sun, and sand affecting it. It was a miracle that he wasn't dark skinned, but everything down to the slightly dry, tired smell of the leather on his armor gave way to his heritage on a desert world.

For the small moment his eyes lay over Elan, he pondered if their trade was a vocation that communed them with gods, or of the creations of the Mother and the Father. Perhaps they weren't to different, he thought to himself, as the tech-priest regularly communed with creations of the Smith as well as collaborations of both the Smith and the Magus.

Turning his head back to the table, he sips his water again and sets it down gently. Brushing his vision over the datapad before him, he addresses the room.

"I am Brother Larimore Antares. Tech-Priest of the Smith. The Ironbourne." He started, giving a slight pause. "My home is a Citadel-Cathedral in the Birinas Sector of the Osorus Domain." He finished, not naming the planet or moon of his home, while pleasantly naming their Citadel's House Osorus benefactors. Dragons of blue color always seemed to prefer that their subjects didn't forget their rule over them, and referring to them as benefactors would be just the little bit of stroking always needed to make them feel as if their needs were considered alongside those of the god that was worshipped there. Such careful wording, even small doses of prostrating for their rulers, were necessary sometimes to those from the slice of the galaxy that belonged to House Osorus.

Brother Larimore gave a wry, small upturn of the right side of his mouth, letting it settle into a friendly smile. Turning to Elan again, he nods, masking his amusement as a friendly gesture. He wouldn't dare say aloud that the smile was brought forth from his inner monologue, wondering if the Captain entertained so much internal monologue, and if the druid entertained the same 'polar opposite' thought process that he did.

With the soft thud of leather soled boots bearing armored coverings, there was a slight scraping of metal over metal as Brother Larimore stepped into the room. A darkened, solem look crept over his face as the metallic holy symbol to the smith brushed across his breastplate. Clearly unable to be mistaken for anything other than a cleric, and that of the Smith, the holy symbol was handmade and was connected by a heavy steel chain. The long, flowing brown cloak strategically peeking through his armor in placed ended in a hood that was pulled down.

The blessings were complete, he could now rest.

His right metal gauntleted hand formed into a fist and brought itself to his left breast. Bowing his head slightly to make eye contact with the chest of the imposing Captain, he offered the half-dragon a salute before continuing further into the room.

"Captain." Brother Larimore offered, more an address than a formality. It was the was someone said hello to someone while addressing their rank and status, while not socially prostrating himself. The captain would forever have more political status than the cleric, but the cleric had already decided it best to leave himself a neutral mystery. He didn't doubt that the Captain was already informed that the initial blessings of his ship were complete, not with the cold rigid posture of a creature he assumed was well drowned in a similar rigid sense of order. The captain wouldn't be trifled with. He was, after all, here to see to the funeral of a dying ship.

A murdered ship, but one that died serving its purpose. Warfare.

Stopping at a pitcher, Larimore pours himself a glass of water and moves to the conference table. As any simple farmer or honest man would, there's little fleer to the way he seats himself. But seat himself he does. Sipping the water, he sets the glass down, offering a nod to the druid.

Now where's Locke? I figured he would've posted by now.

I am -so- ready to start this game.

This IS Jared's Wheel of Time game, right?

I'm still here (Locke)

Fatespinner wrote:

You've always gotta be difficult, don't you?

Hopefully we'll never end up on a desert planet with no trees. Otherwise, we'll be f!%*ed.

A twig from any world will work. You might even have a collection of them, though I suspect that your regard for nature and personal dignity won't have your character wandering around with dozens of twigs strapped to him in case of emergency.

I'm not saying it HAS to be given up willingly. I'm saying there'll be *bonuses* if you go out of your way to secure 'difficult to acquire' focuses.

So....when do we get this thing crackolatin'?

Steve, Ian, and Sasha:

I need you to check out this thread and give me some feedback as to whether or not my games look the same from the players' eyes as they do from mine. Locke, unfortunately, I don't think you've played in enough of my games to make an accurate judgement (in fact, I think I've only ever run one game for you and it got cut short... hopefully that will change soon).

IT's okay. So when do we start?

Brother Larimore wrote:

Oh, just in case you didn't know. My character is a Tech-Priest of the Smith. He's weapons. He's warhammers. He's Spells. He's Lawful Neutral. HE IS RELIGIOUS BEEFCAKE

He's wielding a 'Light Steel Shield', which does nothing in the Dragonstar setting against projectile weapons of either conventional or energy base. Just FYI. Melee defense only.

What does, then?

Oh yeah, this is my monkish avatar, for those who have yet to see and recognize, yo.

Oh, just in case you didn't know. My character is a Tech-Priest of the Smith. He's weapons. He's warhammers. He's Spells. He's Lawful Neutral. HE IS RELIGIOUS BEEFCAKE

We have a Locke! Sweeeeet. The team is assembled!

The circle has been assembled!

OMG LOCKE!!! HI!! (Sasha here lol).

HEY! how's it going? What are you playing?

Here I am. Working on backstory, etc right now. Just touching base.