I'm willing to wait, or bot him if everyone is anxious to move along. I'd definitely liek to hav eDoc (& Justin) around.
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Ah, well. That's understandable.
Hey, Dien. I just saw this post. I can sympathize with you - Eben and I were in a game where the very same thing happened. GM disappeared for months without a word. One of the players stepped up, and we had to complete the mission with 3 players. We should be able to tar and feather GMs who abandon their games.
Personally, I am a fan of Star Wars, I just don't want to spend the next year mulling over what little tidbits they show in the trailer, or what certain someones might describe from watching said trailer. At this point, do you even need to market Star Wars? People will either see it, or... you know, they're dirty communists. Either way, no trailer necessary.
You can't, and it won't. Says the DARK SIDE...
Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up! ( I still haven't seen it. Worry the trailer will spoil it for me, but what are the odds I can go a year without seeing any? )
Yep. About that clear. I think I know how to move forward.
So, I probably shouldn't invest any points into the skill.
Is there any reason to believe UMD will ever come into play? Are there any magic devices in this world?
Ambrose's words leave a grin on Callum's face, which breaks first into chuckles, then full blown laughter. 'When they come,' he says. Not if; when. I could talk all day, but they'll just believe what they want to believe. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a ticking time-bomb, but they'll stay. And they think I'm the crazy one. Sitting alone in the common room, Callum couldn't remember when he'd last laughed this hard.
Yeah, I need to finish updating Callum, too. Fair warning for all: I might abruptly be out of pocket somewhere around the 15th. My wife's level 1 Ankle-biter summoning should be complete. Mr Narrator can work around me or RP as needed, if it becomes necessary.
"Take it easy, Doc, they... Doc!" Callum calls after the man as he storms out, but doesn't pursue him. "Well, that went well."
"Believe me, if there was a way out of there with alerting Geirnig, and still keeping our heads attached, I didn't see it. He actually seemed more interested in keeping me alive once he realized..." "Anyway, I'm sorry to keep you all in the dark on this - there just never seems to be a good time to broach the subject. As for nasty surprises, well, if I could promise something like that, Giz, we'd all be a lot richer, without thugs like Geirnig and Biggs on our backs. Well, at least we're rid of Tiny's baggage."
"I don't go looking for reasons to do this, but it's saved my life more than a few times, just today. Bound up, it's a tool like any other. Just like a gun - no real danger until you use it. It's the will of the wielder that's the real danger. So I guess it gets down to this - do you trust me, Gilly?"
Woo hoo!
Callum nods. "Since before any of you knew me. I've been a Binder longer than... well, longer than I wasn't. It's not about liking them ,Giz. There are plenty of chemicals that are dangerous - can burn, explode, poison - but we still use them because they are useful. Like it or not, the daemons are out there - and their nature won't change, no matter what we do. And you're right, they are completely evil. That's part of the reason for the binding. As long as they're bound in a corporeal object, they can't do any harm."
When the crew is gathered together, Callum looks around at each of them in turn, trying his best to read the emotions under the surface. Turning to Doc, Cal updates him on the situation. "Ev, something happened when we were caught by Geirnig's men. Something that's got Giz on edge - probably the others, too. I'll just come out with it. I'm a Daemonist. Well, not a true Daemonist - it's called Binding. Long story short, I can... trap them, use them. Releasing a bound daemon sends them back to their own plane, and the resulting energy has... beneficial effects for the Binder." Doing his best to articulate the matter carefully, Cal takes a deep breath and continues. "Whatever you've heard, we don't worship them, or drink blood, or whatever. They're tools - like a spanner; like a gun. When those tools become necessary, I use them as needed. I'm the same man you've all known me to be - but I know this is a lot to take on." Cal's eyes come to rest on Gilly. Doc/Occult Cant: They saw me unlashing a binding (or two.) It's up to you what you want to reveal, or not.
"Where's my head at? Make for the rendezvous, first - then we can make for Raventon." Cal gives Ambrose the coordinates provided by Grage Hawker.
Cal leans back in the gunner's seat with a sigh. "Ambrose, set course for Raventon. Gill... we can discuss it on the way." With that, he climbs out of the Roost, and makes his way to the common area.
Callum sends salvos of hot lead raining down on the office, reducing walls and fine furniture to a mound of rubble and splinters.
"Alright, seems it's unanimous, more-or-less. Level Geirnig's HQ, and then make trails for Raventon." Making his way back to the Roost, Cal puts Geirnig's corner office in his sights.
Cal shakes his head, "I'd rather the crew vote on this one. We'll probably all end up with bounties on our heads regardless - but now we have a choice to bolt, or hunt him down. I won't make a decision like that for the rest of you." Turning again to the ruined building, he adds "Either way, Doc - I will have Geirnig's head for this."
I think Doc just declared open warfare on the town of Badger Lope.
Doc's words stir Callum from his dark thoughts. "I'm inclined to agree, Doc. But I won't sleep easy until I see Geirnig's corpse, myself. A rat like him probably had a tunnel running out of that expensive office of his. I suppose we can at least shoot holes through all of his oh-so-pretty things, if it makes you feel better."
Boots on the sides of the ladder, Callum zips down to the main deck, joining Ambrose and Doc on the bridge. "Signal Tiny to dock, if he hasn't already. We need to regroup and plan our next move." Glaring down at the gaping maw marking out Geirnig's office, Callum mulls their options.
We just wanted to be left in peace, but he had to push us. They always have to push. It's their nature. He's still down there, somewhere. This isn't over. This isn't over.
Cal covers Bingo with the Roost's massive gun, popping off shots as the targets present themselves.
Callum calls out through the horn back to Ambrose on the bridge. "Take out that spitfire, then book it. Zedd and I can dissuade that last guy. I don't want to give Geirnig time to get more ships in the air!"
The shock of impact wrenches Callum's mind back into reality. He bites off an oath as the world collapses in on itself, then rebounds back, wobbling into normalcy. "What's he doing down there‽ I'll have his head, if he wrecks my ship!" We'll likely all be dead, if he crashes the ship... With a growl, he mashes down on the cannon's triggers, sending a spray of hot lead at the enemy spitfire.
Clambering up the ladder, the cap'n grabs controls and takes in the situation. Fiddling with his ring triggers a surge of bound energy. The cracked leather of the gunner's seat pinching his skin is a distant sensation. The smell of gunpowder and lubricant is fainter. Colors seem less true, a faded grey - except... Three brilliant streaks paint the sky beyond the canopy. Sapphire, gold, and silver - intense against the muted bleakness of the rest of the world. A single heartbeat stretching to eternity, the colors fluctuate - resolving into the enemy ships, but one or another seeming to fight for dominance - survival over the others. At moment the blue bulk shines in his mind's eye, somehow more real than the others, then the silver snub dominates his view only to be replaced by golden spitfire. Like a three way tug-of-war, the war rages for millennia, yet for only the briefest of moments.
"Unless you're dead Ambrose, get your ass to the bridge! "
Enemy contact. Suppressing training and experience ingrained as deep and blood and bone - instincts that raged for him to be on the bridge - Cal rushes toward the dorsal turret.
As the Trullkin bursts its way into the room, Captain Rhen makes a mad dash for the Grey Kestrel's lowered ramp. "Go, go, GO!"
"Cal watches as his ship shrinks to a tiny speck in the clouds. 'He got there fast.' He could still barely make out the shape of the Kestrel when the hail of bullets took him."
Two cans on a string? Kidding aside, I think some early ships IRL had the system you describe for communicating between bridge and engines, with the addition of piping that could carry sound. If you are looking for a period solution, I think this works, but if you prefer it without, that's cool. I assume any enemy we come across will have a similar handicap.
Cal flinches more at the sound of the shotgun blast, than the ricochet of pellets from his summoned shield. Returning fire at the beefy trullkin, he yells back to Ambrose, "Tell Doc to get the Kestrel moving! I'll be right there! Tiny won't let you leave without me!"
Tow Cable: Attached via swivel mount to the starboard wall of the cargo bay, at the loading ramp. When the ramp is up, can be fired through an access port (murderhole). A similar mount and port are located in mirror positions to port.
Drawing his revolver, Cal puts his weight into the barricade to buy time for the rest of the crew to board the Kestrel.
Grabbing the sofa's cushions, the captain tosses them toward Gilly at the broken wall. "Use those to break his fall!" Turning back to the barricade, Cal lends his weight to the furniture securing the doorway.
Grimacing at the thought of leaving Giernig with a still-beating heart, Callum pitches a bullet-ridden sofa against the doorway to the hall. "Ambrose, get Tiny outta here. Cover him, Giz. I'm right behind you."
"You let us outta here," Starns says as he levels his rifle at the unconscious Zedd. "Or I put him down for good." Blade poised to thrust at the ugly thug on his right, Callum "You've got it backwards there, friend. You're the ones that were trying to prevent us from leaving." Callum responds in that strange otherworldly tone. "Drop your weapons, and take your wounded - we didn't start this trouble. But if you threaten my crew again, we WILL finish it. I'll take off your head, and suck your soul from your bones. You'll be wishing I'd let you taste the abyss."
have left well " Callum's words reverberate with an odd undertone - almost like a second, deeper voice, synced with his own. In a flash, his rapier is out of it's sheath and arcing toward Mors.
Cursing as hot lead fills the air, Callum hesitates - his ego driving him toward Giernig to unleash a beating that would leave the man's face a puddle of fleshy goo. The crew. Cursing again, he instead leaps to the side. Hoping Giernig's people will try to avoid hitting each other, he tries to maneuver around the nearest thug. As his hand brushes the buckle of his gun belt, he pulls. That strange yet familiar power floods his senses, raising the hairs on his neck more than the flying bullets had.
*Calls the authorities about suspicious characters who are loitering and sauntering about.*
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