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Jahg relates what he knows before getting ready to leave. "Basically some up-trumped mercs that ought to get stamped out before they become a real problem. If we ain't got any more questions, let's keep this mook locked up somewhere tight while we take care of business."
"Yeah what Alexander said. What kinda operators they got on the coin? Anyone nasty?"
"Caliber...heh. 'Course this guy doesn't get anything more than a bullet between the ears if we don't get Steelbones back. So how's about you start chatting? Who paid you to do the job and where would he be taken?"
Jahg stands menacingly nearby.
Unhelpfully...
Jahg clambers out of the sewers since there is no escape from the gas below.
Jahg stumbles along in the sewers looking for a side tunnel to loop around to their next destination away from the gas. "Steelbones got grabbed? Damn it!" He barks in between bouts of coughing.
Jahg slings his rifle over his shoulder, pulls his shotgun and slides down the manhole. He'll start walking in the direction of where the route was supposed to take us next. "Time to flush out the rats...uh, no offense."
"Shooter is below you Rekt, third floor. I have eyes on."
Jahg clenches his chest and has a miniature panic attack seeing gas pool around his feet. His palms begin to feel sweaty and his vision blurs as his mind briefly recalls the distant sound of explosives, the cries of the dying and gunshots ringing out. The voices of the team over the comms quickly shake him from a half second trance. He quickly takes a position overlooking Steelbones from the alley and readies himself to counter-snipe.
Jahg decides to follow up on Chester's tip and rigs a tripwire around a likely manhole to hopefully drop any would be attackers back down the hole or slow them if not. Then the Hobgoblin skulks off to wait with his hand on his holster.
Tripwire: A creature that fails its save against a tripwire snare falls prone. Once knocked prone, a creature is no longer at risk of triggering the trap in that square. This trap is not destroyed when triggered; instead the duration is reduced by 5 rounds per creature that fails its save. Running and charging creatures take a -2 penalty on their Reflex saves against this trap.
Jahg holds up his hand to the offer from Rune. "After the job is done." He then moves to get into position, electing for the alleys where a Hobgoblin might look less out of place.
"You got it boss, rubber bullets it is. I'll go get to roof hopping I guess."
"What's the route anyways? Do we need to be on the move or should I hole up somewhere high?"
"I can shoot real well up to about 500 paces and decently up to half again. After that, it's crapshoot."
"Gunnery Sergeant Jahg Cru'dahl. Used to run with the Steel Reavers outfit back in that nasty scrap between the Consortium and the Foundry. All-rounder when it comes to up close or far away, but I can keep you safe
Jahg inhales deep of his cigar and exhales the thick acrid smoke through his nose.
Jahg lets out a snort of amusement and chews his cigar a bit. "Mr.Melkurio, you should stick to the slots."
Jahg sits down at one of the blackjack tables with a cigar and just exudes that general hobgoblin menace at the other players.
"Heh, and if we cheat what're a bunch of rich fops gonna do? Throw us out? I'd like to see them try." Jahg lets out a guttural laugh."It would seem to me that preventing a stain such as that on our reputation would be reason enough to supress our lesser instincts. It certainly would make finding contracts more difficult I dare say." "...Was only kidding. Maybe."
"Heh, and if we cheat what're a bunch of rich fops gonna do? Throw us out? I'd like to see them try." Jahg lets out a guttural laugh.
Jahg looks askance at Alexander. "Don't matter where they come from. If it comes down to a fight between me and the tin can, we'll win. The subtlety stuff you all can handle. I just don't feel comfortable in these posh rooms...although the wine and cigars are nice." "Let's go pipsqueak. Mr. Melkurio, Rune, you comin' along? I just wanna be sure our employer doesn't get merked before our job even starts."
Jahg's tusks flash in a grin. "It's good! Let them all come and Steelbones will foot the bill for all the bodies. I bet he can pull a fast one on them if'n we can prove who came from who." Jahg chambers a round into his rifle and slings it over his shoulder. "I'm going to patrol around a bit, Rekt, you wanna come with?"
Jahg rests against the suite wall while cleaning his rifle. Beside him rests an open sack with an eclectic mix of scrap and other odds and ends. He wears an old graying military uniform complete with a cap and jacket although the glint of his chainshirt peeks slightly from behind his open collar. A pair of goggles rests around his neck. Standing at 5,5, the hobgoblin tends to be twitchy before taking on a job but progressively grows calmer the closer to imminent threat he gets. A double-barreled shotgun hangs from a holster at his back waist alongside a revolver at his hip. His skin is pale gray tinged with green, a hint indicating orcish descent if his prominent tusks don't give it away. "Anyone know if he's got any enemies that want to put him in the ground?"
*Grunt* Doesn't hurt to be too cautious. |
