Ianthé was sheltered from getting unwillingly included in the fight,
but could not tell how it was going. 'Blasted tall folk construction! I'm out of harm's way, but now I can't see what's happening!' As several mugs and pieces of a chair fell to the other side of the bar's far end after a loud crash, some of her annoyance abated. A chanced look over the top of the bar gave her a view of the ongoing fight— to which the conclusion was foregone, or at least it should have been– and she had no desire to add to the group of people that were already attacking the idiot.
Sighing, she settled back down to wait out the fight.
___________________________________
Still delaying until the fight concludes.
'Too much to keep the fighting to a minimum, I suppose...'
Jack moved before the fracas got too big, though she had hoped to see the fight with the lackwit of a half-orc conclude before the fight spread. 'Nothing to be done about it', she sighed mentally, sliding out of her seat and leaving her poor excuse for ale. A couple of steps took her to a good moving speed before vaulting over the top of the bar and to relative safety on the other side. She had her eye on the disciple, though.
'Oho! More have come to join the fight! He's looking outnumbered!'
The platinum-haired individual seemed to be of some importance, so she took a good look at the subject of the altercation, impressed that such magic was being used in the inn. So far, some people had started up, not wanting to be the victim of a stray attack. Others were taking advantage of the opportunity to vacate the establishment, leaving those that were interested in spectating the fight. The sound of the crowd was getting louder, also.
She still had not moved, one elbow propped on the table, definitely intrigued. She had not seen hair move like that before. "Nice backhand!", she cheered.
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Initiative:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23(delay)
[dice=K.(Local) to recognize the "slave"]1d20+13[/dice]
'Well, looks like tonight's entertainment has arrived.'
The auburn-haired dwarf had been sitting at a nearby table, trying to convince herself to drink what passed for "Ale" for a good while now. The memories of the last two inns that she had ordered a drink in had served her a liquid in a mug that they called "Ale", but were so horrible she ended up just downing it because she was thirsty.
Thankfully, this scene was happening before she could try her drink, but from how it smelled, it was likely something she was not going to enjoy anyway. Maybe she would get lucky and someone would accidentally spill it.
Leaning back in her chair, she set the mug just a little closer to the edge.
__________________________________
Sense Motive @10= 18
What's the overview of the place we're in? Size? Demographics? Location? Climate? I'm wanting to get enough information to set my character in there and go forward.
*turns attention to the Drow* Do all of you know each other? Is there any coordination there?
Nodding, Té placed the charges into the satchel and then got another for the other three. If they could not take out what they needed to take out, then it was likely something that they would need orbital fire for. When she had gotten the equipment situated, the two satchels were not much, and she looked at the rest of the squad. "Got some space. Who needs what carried?" She had casually brushed off Thek's inquiry, not wanting to examine that particular line of thought yet. When she got back, she was going to give "Dirty" Calahan a proper send-off, probably complete with reprimand.
That was for later. For now, she considered her armament, and waited to see who had what before she added another pistol to her kit. Her tool kit was on her back, gun at her hip, datapad at her thigh (she needed to check the sync program), and enough explosive to give a small moon some orbiting siblings. Felt like old times.
Ianthé had finished securing the holster on the hip opposite her datapad, settled for a cross-draw, since her shooting had was the same hand that she manipulated the datapad with. Stomping once or twice to settle the holsters and make sure nothing slipped out, she bent to pick up a small satchel. "So how many charges do you estimate we'll need?", she asked, looking up at Commander Revik. She had already arranged two blocks of Detonite and their respective timers near the small bag, but the telling point would be the charges.
While the commander answered, she continued equipping herself, taking a knife and securing it beside the holster, where she could grab it with her left hand easily. The helmet itself was not on her head yet.
Té was suiting up and kept an ear to the discussions as she moved, relaxing more now that she was out of that flight suit and into more familiar equipment. A piston went on her hip, and her datapad went onto her thigh, already having started up the syncing procedure for the output to her helmet. The holster had not been hard to get, and she was since used to utilizing it that way-- of course, she had gone through a good many datapads before she found a brand that was durable enough for what she did.
Looking up from her almost meditative preparation process, her hands continued to place equipment and gear even as she spoke. "How integrated are their systems? It will do us little good if we get there only to find that each individual system has been separated and walled off from the others."
Té was smiling. Later, once this was done and clear of duty, she would drink herself into unconsciousness at the memory of a lost friend. For now, this was familiar ground. Don the gear, systems check, check the weapons, double check the tech, synch and start. Stripping off the flight suit, she went straight to the armor.
'At least I'm not in that ship anymore', she thought to herself. "None yet, but I'll let ya know, Four"
Now that they had a focus, Ianthé followed Lt. Allen and fired on the same target. <"Night 6, right behind you, Night 5."> @Dune 4, med.range:1d20 + 3 + 4 - 5 ⇒ (11) + 3 + 4 - 5 = 13, Damage:6d10 + 5 ⇒ (8, 10, 7, 2, 2, 9) + 5 = 43x2
I am a little lost for Initiative. Is it our(the pilot's) Initiative?
Also, please feel free to roll any reflexive/reactionary rolls for Ianthé, if doing so will help speed things along. I don't have to roll every save/check personally if all that is needed is a single line from me. :)
This was the part that Ianthé loved. The sprint back to her bunk dispelled any lingering fatigue that she may have had, and she grabbed her sidearm and her kit, sliding her datapad into the the extra pocket before dashing out of the barracks towards their hangar bay.
Her vibroknife was in her boot, the sidearm on her hip, and her tools and datapad were all that she needed for anything. While she was certified on the trainers, flying was still something that made her a bit uneasy. She was capable, certainly, but perhaps it was the lack of a surface to orient to that made her a bit uneasy. To compensate, she learned to use the home ship as the orientation and it seemed to be better. At least she was already in the flight suit.
"Excuse me, Té? You're a Tech Specialist? That's good to hear. When we get the chance, I'd like to talk to you about customizing my equipment. I have a lot of ideas about the gear I'd like to carry, but not the expertise to actually do it."
That got Ianthé's attention. Nothing was more fun for her than tinkering. Perhaps it was something about the research, something about the focus necessary as the work was being done, and the satisfaction of seeing the finished product perform as expected. Not to mention all manner of other interesting things that one could run across while looking for that certain piece. There was a datapad next to the bag that started up with a pass of her hand, the standard display clearly altered, and a file had been opened with a couple more passes.
"Kira, right?" Parts of an anticipatory smile were suppressed, but the corners of her mouth still twitched. Gesturing to the smaller bag that she had out on her bunk, she unzipped it to show a techie's kit, as well as the more familiar tools for weapon maintenance and repair. "I'm all ears and tools.. What are you thinking of?"
The grin was back on Té's face once Calahan recognized her. "You never were good at long trips, Calahan. I knew the beard the second I saw you, but I wondered how long it would take." At the mention of her appearance, she shrugged. "Last mission ran a little "interestingly". Had to get around to the evac point the long way." Smirking slight at a bit of an inside joke, she hooked her chin towards his insignia. "'Grats on the rank." Glancing at the other half of their team, she cleared her throat and managed to look somewhat chagrined.
Giving a nod towards the other half in general, she managed a professional presentation. Choosing to omit the rank, she spoke. "Ianthé Jack. Call me Té. Tech specialist. If it's a machine, I can build it or break it." She did look at Lt. Reese a little longer than the others and stood a little straighter. "Heard a lot about what you had done on Coruscant. It's a pleasure."
'Smooth girl, noo.. no hero worship from you, nah.. Just another admirer...' Clearing her throat a bit nervously, she looked to the rest of their squad as a way of not staring.
Ianthé had kept a composed face, but as the Admiral spoke, a bit of tension could be noted running through her. As it ended, she broke out in a wide grin, practically bouncing. Callahan topped her by five inches or so, and what could be seen of her frame showed that she had trained hard for function. While the lines of her face were not severe, her fitness could be read in her face. Her curves were not generous, nor were they pronounced. Her movements were controlled, precise, and decisive.
It was the look in her eyes showed she had done more than just fly, though. While casual, they had the look of someone who had relied so much on their awareness that it was habit now. Her eyes focused on any new movement, and everyone got sized up. If you were within arm's reach, you had her full attention.
(presumed barracks arrival)
The standard duffel was over her shoulder, and the handles of a smaller bag were in her other hand, the black fabric well-worn and faded in some places. In fact, her duffel was the same; Regulation, but worn at the straps and cinches. "Lt. Ianthé Jack, but call me Té."
Thek's comment made her chuckle briefly, and she looked at him with an amused expression shaking her head slightly. "Not a single comment about 'weaponry' Thek, please." First on her list was finding their exercise facilities and working off some of the energy that had built up during their trip. She was used to working out regularly.
So perhaps we should be sorting out who does what. We've got some overlap between Alden and I, though I have more of the... "Practical" background than he does.
Ianthe, I thought I had mentioned that Backgrounds were located in the Rebellion Era sourcebook. If not, my apologies. Were there any other books/rules you need looked up, clarified or otherwise?
The Rebellion Era Sourcebook I have makes no mention of backgrounds, just data about planets. It isn't on you, no worries. I was thinking about a background for a Coruscant-born tech head that found she enjoyed commando work.
Whoa.. we're the 501st.. *considers* Well, without the threat of Vader or the Emperor, that's a lot of looming stress gone. Neat.
(calmly turning to look at Perallus) "I'm surprised you can carry that ego of yours with one hand. The word you're looking for is 'Commando'"
Questions (cont.):
As a fifth level character, and an officer (You must be an officer to fly), what sort of military service has the character seen up to this point?
"I don't want to get too high in rank. If I get too high in rank, I'm going to be the one giving more orders than doing things, and that's something I don't want to do-- at least not yet. I've been part of groups that are always in the middle of things, priority targets and such. Things that need to be sliced or blown up don't end up being given to the support lines."
(said with a smirk)"Nice to see you haven't accidentally blown yourself up yet, Callahan."
Questions:
Why is the character joining the navy?
"I eventually realized that if I didn't get out of where I was, the only place I would end up is as some crime lord's pet slicer, or doing time in a cell, if I didn't get killed first. The crew is great people, but we can't stay that way forever."
Where were they born/raised?
"Really, is there any other place to be than Coruscant? I could have been from off-world, but really.. Once you've been here, there really isn't any other place like it."
Why are they a loyal citizen of the Empire?
"Why am I loyal.." (Thoughtful) "..That's a good question. I guess it's just a matter of perspective, really. I could place my loyalty elsewhere, but what guarantee do I have that they won't hang me out to dry? The Imperial Council has done a lot, and if they keep on they way they have, hell, I'll be loyal to the end."
Are they racist against other species? Sexist?
"Hutts." (her lip curls a little) "I just don't like them. Have you ever seen one? How about a dead one? Trust me, they're even worse dead. They've got their disgusting fingers in too many pies for their own good, and if one should happen to slip up and die, I'm certainly not going to lose any sleep over it."
Do they have a particular hatred of the New Republic? (Amused Snort) "If they want to try to break the system, fine. That just means more work for me to do, and since my work occasionally involves explosions, I love my job."
'Simple and easy enough to understand', Ianthé smirked under her helmet, and worked her magic with the squad's HUD, giving a schematic of the building (what she could gather), and marking the mentioned places as objectives. She must have dropped her knife somewhere, because she didn't have it, probably when that.. thing jumped her.
'$#!t luck, but that's how it goes', As long as she kept moving, she did not have to think about what they just encountered. So once the tech side of things was done, she set about checking her weapon and stripping off any gunk she might have acquired.
It was likely this set of armor was getting thrown away.
Refusing to panic, Ianthé discarded her rifle at close range and did her best to wrestle the.. thing off of her. Straining as hard as she could, she tried to push the thing away. Her struggles may have seemed silent, but that was because her helmet mic was off.
Wrestling:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Ianthe sheathed her knife and drew the rifle off of the holster in a not-quite single motion, and had it up and trained, going to one knee to clear the firing line for anyone that happened to be aiming behind her. She did make a note to look up what this disease was after, since right now was not the best time to be asking curious questions.
Doing what she could to keep an eye on her surroundings, Jack dropped one hand to her datapad and tapped it a couple of times, pulling up the schematics and comparing them with where they were. After a few seconds of looking, her response to Callahan's question was a shake of her head, pointing out the only accesses that she could find.
"Chute. Vent."
Her other hand still had her vibrodagger pulled and held in a guard position, waiting for whatever those things were to show themselves in reach of her attack.
Ianthé looked to the person closest to her, and moved with Callahan, figuring that he could cover her with his weapons in the result it became necessary. She switched the knife in her hand to a better grip and bumped his shoulder, pointing in the direction that she was intending to move.
'If anyone would have told me I'd be in a basement on the mission, hunting trash creatures, I'd have laughed at them', she thought. 'Joke's on me.'
Waiting for Callahan's acknowledgement, she held her position and kept her eyes open.
Perception:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
The eyebrow that was Jack's response to Callahan's wink would go unseen, as she had and would keep her helmet on. There was too much useful information fed through the display that she would need. Shaking her head-- mostly to herself, she frowned at the thought of them revealing themselves through use of their guns.. Any explosion would immediately make their location suspect.
From the outside, it looked like she shook her head as she slung her rifle, and drew the vibrodagger that was part of her kit. Her voice came through the speakers of their helmets, broadcasting on the teamcomm.
"No giving away our position. This is going to get ugly before too soon."
A tap of her datapad set it to standby, knowing that she was going to need her full attention without the extra clutter of the display inside her helmet, and un-slung her weapon, taking position behind Calahan. She watched his left, making sure that she was moving wide enough to allow anyone behind her to fire. [b]"Got your left"[/ooc], she said, looking ahead.
Relieved to exit the stench and waste of the sewers, Jack crawled as quietly as possible, gaining her footing and moving her datapad back to its place on her thigh. Tapping it twice, she set it to receive any signals passively, so they might have any idea of what they were walking into.
With no response being given for the droids, Ianthé shrugged and sent them in a random direction away from them and then instructed them to shut down after time had elapsed. There was not much time to do anything other than that, and she was too concerned with keeping whatever it was that they were walking in (though she mentally amended the verb to "wading") off of the pad. Cleaning it if it fell in was not something she wanted to do.
Her lips were tightly pressed together, very, very glad that she could not smell anything through the filters of the suit.
Jack looked completely reluctant to drop into the sewer. Among other things, while her precious datapad may have been proofed against it, it was still the thought of having to drain her gear out after sloshing around down there for who knew how long. So it took her a little more time than the others to prepare for doing so.
The pouch that was on her leg got moved to her hip, which would impede her interaction with it, but keep it out of all but the worst water, while her rifle was slung on the opposite side. She crouched, about to drop through the grate, when she realized the droids were still active.
"Signal relay will be traceable at a distance, what do you want to do with the droids, Captain?"
