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Carnival bagged the wallet and keycard. He had no idea if the wallet would be useful, but he double checked it anyway. You never knew when someone might write a password and hide it behind there credit card. "Got a keycard for the basement, so that'll save some time."
"Careful of the corpses, just in case they ain't dead yet." Carinival being the sort of person he was moved to check each corpse in turn to make sure they were suitably dead. If the sight or the smell bothered him, he gave no hint. Instead he simply jabbed each one with the pointed foot of his leather shoe, then checked the corpse for ID, keycards or anything else of use.
Yup, we can walk around to that side.
Carnival will be wherever. He'd also recommend sweeping the ground floor first and, once it's secure, heading downstairs. If we have to run away he'd prefer that where we're running to be mostly safe. And yeah, same as above. Assumed we were gonna get a 'You enter the dungeon, there is a zombie' post.
Carnival nods. "Sounds simple enough, so long as we're being cautious."
Carnival looked at the 'Oozi'. He didn't laugh at the name. He did kinda regret not grabbing it now, though.
The stop at Carnival's home was short, and sweet. The extent of the costume change was to walk in, put his jacket on a hook, grab something off the table by the door and pop it in his ear - a Bluetooth headset - and return to the van. One might say it was an utter waste of time, but Carnival apparently considered it a very nice jacket. Still, in the van he rolled the black silk shirt sleeves up, revealing his forearms - one covered in tattoos of plantlife with silver running through them in intruiging glints and gleams, and a second set on the other that was only partially complete. After a moment he breathed out, slowly, and ribbons of light flickered around his hands before hardening into gleaming plates of...something. Flexing his fingers out for a moment, Carnival smiled and reached up for his glasses. For anyone seeing his eyes for the first time, or the second or third for that matter, it was probably a freaky experience. The 'whites' of his eyes were entirely blue instead, even in the dim light of the fan, and his iris was the colour of old bronze. His pupils were slits, which widened impressively in the dark van. Cleaning the lenses, he slid them back on and grinned at anyone staring. ---- Meeting the nasally arse, Carnival kept his gob shut for the most part and didn't insult the man with all the money. He did size up the muscled help. Just in case the little runt decided to hold onto there pay later. But there was one question that needed answering. "Any critical items, systems or creatures that could present a danger to us, or others, in the event of an engagement where they might become harmed or damaged in some way?" His voice held a cool, detached tone, and sounded like this was a standard question he asked often.
The way I do it is to use the Google knock off excel, turn it into a grid, colour the squares to make a map and have people simply move the letter representing there name around. It's cheap and cheerful. But there are plenty of better ways to do it, I'm just naff with art. Roll20 seems to be the easiest nowadays.
Carnival looked bemused by the excitement over the cash, but didn't seem to share it. "You're still paying the tab, Berto. Don't go trying to give us huge piles of gold and then think we'll let you off."
"How cute. You think I need a sword to kill a thing." Carnival smiled just a little. "OK - so, smash any boxes that grow teeth or legs. Smash anything that should be dead until it stops pretending to be alive. Don't fight or touch the Fungus - might be a Fun Guy, but will keep us there forever." He paused, and sighed. "And don't grapple the giant germ, it'll melt you to death." He paused. "Anything else we need to remember, or shall we go smash some skulls? And boxes."
Smirking, Carnival said, "Reckless? Me? You fight one half giant wearing nothing but sunglasses and some butter and people make all sorts of untoward comments." Considering the list of horrible that this place had, he added, "Are we sure this isn't the Umbrella Corporation? 'Cos this sounds like it should take place in a Bayou and we have to kill the grandma." Shaking his head a little, he said, "OK, I'm gonna guess we should give our sniper the stungun, so as to minimize the chances of recklessness. Looks like the best idea would be to go in through that East door, head up north to those rooms that aren't connected. Then we can sweep the rest." Looking at Berto, he asked, "Don't suppose this lot was smart enough to make some gear this thing couldn't melt too fast that we can also borrow? Also, what kinda time frame are we looking at here? Normally when dealing with zombies you need to escape by dawn, but if we have two or three days to take our time it'll make things simpler. Spellslingers can just hurl all their magic at the problem, we go take a nap, repeat until success."
Watching the thing with mild interest, Carnival considered for a few moments. "OK, looks like that thing dissolves with some kinda acid. We'll need something to neutralize that. Wood and glass should do to contain it, I'd think, unless you know something we don't - so long as it's big enough it can't push against two sides, mind. Maybe the armoured stuff too." It shouldn't be too hard. The acid was going to be the biggest issue, along with not killing it. "We'll need tranqs, too. If it's got enough of a brain for me to knock about I might be able to punch it out, but drugs would make it go smoother." He paused, and added, "Not sure it's a great idea to sell it for a weapon R&D."
"Day was going fine until you told me I missed all the best violence. You know you're not allowed to do that, it's agains' the rules." Nodding over to Julian, Carnival added, "I assume that the idea here is that we're either huntin' your new friends or recoverin' somethin' they pinched." Picking up his doughtnut, he considered for a moment. "That or the story is unrelated, and we're on baked goods sales today." He took a bite.
Carrying his food, Carnival took a doughnut as he passed. "He sprang for doughnuts. I'm instantly more excited about this job." He paused by the projector for a moment, looking at it. He wasn't the most tech savvy being ever - he knew you couldn't play PS4 games on an Xbox One through experience - but this still felt old fashioned. Shrugging, he found a chair that looked as comfortable as they got and sat down. "Dinner and a show. My, my. Grab a bottle of something decent from the bar and we can make a real night of it." Smirking, mirrored glasses flashing, Carnival looked at everyone else. "Of course, since we're a team, we can all work together." Pausing for a moment, he added, "Oh, and do the job I guess."
Carnival pointed as the massive bald man entered the bar. "Tab's all his." He looked over at Berto, sunglasses glinting, and with a serious expression on his face added, "You're late, Berto. You have to pay the price for that. I ordered extra cheese on these chill cheese fries. They are..." Carnival paused, and put an evil emphasis on the next word, "Delicious."
Yeah, thankfully I'm in the UK so I can go bug the doctors too. And thankfully the twinge has finally healed almost completely, so I've calmed down...but I've scheduled my annual exam.
Punch it! In the throat! Wait... I'm doing OK. A little tired due to an injury that's taken weeks to heal and has been making me paranoid (a small backache, which was the first sympton of bowel cancer in my brother. And step dad. And mother. F*** cancer in the face with a chainsaw) but other than that...
"Then food we shall have," Carnival grinned as he turned to the barkeep. "Can I grab two chilli cheese fries, please, barkeep?" He glanced over at the others. "Anyone else want owt? And do you have takeaway containers?" Just in case.
"Then I suppose he can relax with his beer and we can relax with our slowly increasin' bar tab, and never the twain shall meet." Carnival shrugged. The Sons of Hell sounded like idiots, and anyone who could talk down idiots without pulling off a limb or two first was probably no one he wanted to mess with. Given the Sons name and that level of fear it was even possible the man was possesed, demonic or one of the hellbound's get like a Tiefling. Or maybe he just had a reputation. He'd have to keep an eye out for those drugs, though. You didn't get that sort of power without a serious side effect, but occasionally the cost was worth it. Looking at the others, he asked, "How much do you wanna bet I order the chilli cheese fries and Berto comes waltzing in as soon as I do?"
"Like heading along the pier for chips. Proper chips. Not fries. With, you know, haddock or cod. In batter and deep fried." Carnival sighed longingly for the deep fried produce of his homeland. "I'm hungry. Also, yeah, they're shifty as f***."
"Dunno if he's used to it, but if he makes me wait much longer he's paying for my burger." Considering, Carnival added, "Code names are one of those thin's. Sometimes they're real important, like, especially if you're workin' with some shady types. Other times its just somethin' to stick in the books so if them who go 'oink, oink, where's me bribe?' take a peek at the files we cannae end up neck deep." Shrugging, he added, "And then there's me."
"We're using codenames now?" Carnival asked, somehow managing to look wide-eyed and innocent despite his mirrored glasses.
"Gotcha. Don't use the L word. From now on I shall refer to you only as a Professional Word Wrangler." Looking at the menu he added to Alex, "In my defence, the Investigator hadn't arrived at that point. So, a sniper, a brawler, a father, a professional word wrangler, a investigator and an a****** walk into a bar. The punchline is, of course, Berto, because he's late. And he gets the tab." He paused, and added, "Although, yeah, we'd be an acceptable second choice." He eyed the patrons of the bar behind his glasses for a moment, but none of them seemed terribly inclined to start a fight, and he wasn't terribly inclined to either. Whatever they were doing would probably be best done without blood on his suit. Not that you could see the blood on it, not really. It was one of the reasons he wore it. But it was still best not to get too much on it in case the dry cleaners got angry again. Still, he did check out the vet brigade and grey hoodie a little more. He wasn't overly fond of people with guns who might point them at him, and he wasn't sure what to make of the hoodie. It was a sensible bit of clothing, sure, but a lot of people liked to use it to hide something.
"Probably for the good that the good Father is makin' them. Last time I had a Cockney brownie there was so much weed in the damned thing I saw pink dragons for three days." The tall man walking through the door paused for a moment, considering. "Weird job, that one. Mind, I'll buy munchies. And snacks." Moving into the bar, mirrored sunglasses scanned the room with professional interest, looking over everyone and running a mental risk assessment based on what could be seen. No hostility, no hostility in a fight - simply scanning to see who was most likely to start one and, more interestingly, who was most likely to win one. They were rarely the same person, after all. Heading for a stool, Carnival began to say, "Where'-" when his phone chirped. Pulling the device out of a pocket, he looked at the screen. "Answers that question. Berto's late and my phone is still s***." Moving onto the seat he looked around for something to eat. "So a sniper, a brawler, a father, a librarian and an a%*+~## walk into a bar. What's the punchline to that joke?"
Once we post in Gameplay it'll be a bit easier, since it'll be the second alias down after your primary for this game from then on.
It does indeed. So we have one group who wanna kick us inna fork, one who might be friendly if we don't do anything too stupid, and one whose helping to pay for my suits. Cheers.
Reporting in. Is the Riot Crew in anyway affiliated with any of the three major powers, or directly opposed? It sounds like FACCS probably absoloutely adores a pack of supernaturally gifted vigilantes, and it sounds like we're stepping on the Legion's toes in big, steel-toed boots. |