Ismail 'Bogatir' Aslanov's page

A week later, the door of the hideout opens, shocking the inhabitants for a brief moment. Bogatir walks in, dressed in a sharp suit to the strictest fashions, obviously bespoke. A thick black coat hangs above it. On his face, rather than the tortoiseshell glasses with a neck-strap, perches a pair of European style golden-rimmed spectacles, poking behind a clean-shaven face and a trimmed hair. A wide contrabass case hangs on his shoulder, held as one would hold a child.

"My friends.", Bogatir lets out, pulling out a cigar. "I trust you have been well.", he chuckles in a confident voice.

Here's the final list of purchases below:

Glasses: Ultrasound, Thermographic, Image Link, Image Magnification
Weapon Accessory: Hidden Gun Arm Slide, Concealable Holster
Commlink: Erika Elite
Armour: Mortimer of London Greatcoat; Berwick Suit (Ensemble), Form-Fitting Full Body-suit, RhineGold Suit.
Total Cost: 12,000 nuyen. (In addition to whatever I bought previously)

Espionage works for me!

I'll post what Bogatir was doing as soon as I have time. I'll be travelling today, and I've got ideas for the post.

Come to think of it - I'd probably quite like the casino mission, too, since that would involve a bit more of a social stealth, and a bit more RP, I imagine. Not that any of us are decent at it, though...

And since Alter would like to stretch those VR muscles a bit more, I feel like it's a good opportunity for everyone to do so!

Besides, casinos are among the top 3 places for a shadowrun, according to Bogatir's personal grading system.

I don't think I've ever played a mage in Shadowrun, but it sure looks everything is expensive at our levels of experience.

Speaking of: I kind of like the last mission, the one about talent re-acquisition. Sounds simple enough, and to Bogatir, at least doesn't appear to have any moral ambiguity.

I'm still quite fine to wait for Michael - we've waited for quite some time, I don't mind waiting a little more!

Hey all! I hope all is going good for you all. Sorry for not posting, but the game is in a state of hiatus regardless.

For Purchases, I got the following, assuming that I can do the usual Nuyen:Karma trade:
10,000 nuyen for 5 Karma (I imagine an animal clinic getting a silver credstick in the mail. I still got my stealth!)
Negotiation 3->4
Dodge 1-2, specialising in Ranged Combat.

For gear, I'll try and get the following:

Fake SIN, Rating 6 (Some EVO security honcho straight from Vladivostok)
Fake License, Rating 6 (All of Bogatir's cyberware and his pistol, which comes out at 10 licenses all together.) Should take 6 days, according to my rolls.

I'll probably add more stuff over the next couple of days, and summarise it when (if?) we start again.

Bogatir raises his glass. "To friends, current and gone.", he somberly toasts, before drinking the alcohol. He gradually cheers up during the night, ending up with bolsterous singing and impromptu dance lessons.

In the morning, Bogatir raises from the couch with a groan, his back cracking. Slowly rising, he looks around the room, stretching. "Too old to sleep on couch...", he shakes his head, shuffling with glacial tempo towards the kitchenette, and several minutes later arrives with cups of coffee. And too old to drink like this..., he shakes his head. "Ha! Fun it was, indeed.", he nods at Derek. "Good thing there's no neighbours.", he chuckles. "So, should we call fixer? If nothing else, I need ammunition."

Bogatir nods at Junkyard. "In that case, it has been honour to fight with you, old friend."One last time., the old ork says to the leaving man, a heavy, if shaking, hand landing onto Junkyard. "And good luck." He sighs at the door closing, nodding at the rest as he slowly sits down. "Bah! You're too quick, Derek! Don't lose yourself in work just yet.", he grins as he starts dismantling his armour as well. "Hah! Blue, for you, I know a guy. Borsh and pielmeni? They're Polish, so not as great, but no soy. Only mushroom and beets.", he chuckles, as a message starts appearing on his HUD. "Tomorrow, we sober up and look for Fixer! Today, we drink for Derek's sobriety!", he starts laughing in a loud voice.

I'd be happy to call for a new job, if you have one in mind, GM!

I'm sorry I didn't reply to that at the time, but I completely understand.

I am very much enjoying this game, and the crew. I understand, of course, that RL takes priority, and I hope everything turns out well for you.

And besides, I would like to see Bogatir's story to its conclusion, at the very least. I've grown quite attached to the old bastard.

Bogatir stares at the money. More money than he'd seen in one place for more than half a decade... with the exception of the mirror, every morning. He lets out a dark, approving chuckle. Hah! Sticking around longer. I wish you do, too, ребенок. Slowly and methodically lowering himself onto the seat, he cradles the machinegun as if it was a child. After another cough, he reaches into his pocket to take his pills.

Raising a metal hand in the air, the old ork waves at the younger one. "Charles, my young friend. Come and bring us something to drink before we talk this through.", he smiles at Chuck, before letting out a loud sigh of satisfaction and lights up a cigarette. True, I'm not supposed to. I'm also not supposed to engage in firefights or sneak between rival gangs., he thinks, exhaling the smoke.

Leaning downwards, Bogatir stares at the floor for a moment, his thoughts drifting in the distance, before looking up at Derek. "Derek, my friend.", he says in a quiet voice. "True, you did say one more job. But, this week I felt better than I have in years!", he sends another smile, fist hitting the couch with a triumphant thud. "And, you have said, you are keeping off the BTL. You said the job is good payday. And you've kept your word." He nods. "I wish to stay... I do miss this life, my friend. And the thing I miss most, is the crew.", he lands a hand on Charles' shoulder. "So, even if there is no job, we stay in touch. And if there is job, you can count on me." I could live on beach with this, until the time comes. But I missed this. And I don't like the beach.

Same here! I wwas in the middle of a really busy couple of week, but I'm back and ready for a post a day, if need be! Hope everything's alright on your end, GM.

Bogatir pats the briefcase. "Cash is good.", he shrugs, before opening it. "So, let us count how much it is?", he chuckles, resting the machinegun on the van's wall. "I always enjoyed this type of mathematics.", he bursts into a laugh, stifled by a cough. "I want to check if Derek's claims of it being enough to retire are true, do you not?"

Bogatir sighs quietly as he sees the display settling on a number, rather than a timer. <<"It has accepted the egg. I'll get payment now, whatever it is.">>", he relays over the comms, as he reaches to put in the numbers in the safe. If safe doesn't take numbers, I take safe., he decides, as his metal fingers run through the old lock.

<<"In which case, we drop case, we beat it. We don't get paid, Johnson's problem.">>, laconically states Bogatir, <<"Do not engage.">>, he replies over the comms, as he nods at Alter. "If there is no Johnson, then we do our job.", he quietly tells the rigger, as he turns to the two people next to him. "I will go put cargo in trunk. Bronze has my back. You stay in cover, Alter." The massive ork with the massive machinegun moves with the sound of a cat, as the ARO on his visor guides him towards the van. Taking cover behind the van itself, Bogatir reaches to open the trunk. [i]Almost there..[/ooc]

Bogatir hunkers down, noting for the others to follow suit. <<"I suggest we sit and wait for comm. Derek, do you have contact with Johnson? If they're here for him, we may need to extract him.">>, he asks the rigger, bracing on a column. <<"Let's wait for gang to make move. Information is better weapon than most.">>

GM - what do we know about meeting the contact? Have they told us a name and a location where we need to drop the egg, or are we meeting their representative on the parking lot?

Bogatir nods. "Hasty, perhaps.", he mumbles, as he gets the message from Blue. "<Copy. Will keep eye out, avoid crossfire.>", he replies, as he nods at Alter, raising his hand to indicate he'd cover her physically as they move. "Point where to go, ребенок", he whispers, as he lowers Molodets on his hip. "No Russian.", he can't help but make a horrible joke, a dry smile hanging on his lips.

Bogatir nods quickly as he shoulders his machinegun. <<"Michael. Stay distance and keep eye on the man, yes? If he aims for us. Surprise him then. Bronze, you watch and counter-snipe, too?">>", whispers the ork, before nodding at the rest. "Let's go. See man about egg.", he laconically states, starting to walk towards the meeting point with a slow movement, akin to that of a big cat. "Blue and Alter, we go and talk, poydyom?", he suggests to the others. "We speak softest.", a smile appears on the ork's face, as he taps the stock of his terribly large-caliber stick.

Ready to proceed towards the meeting point. I suggest our two keenest eyes keep an eye on the sniper, since they can be in touch, and the rest of us are the people good at negotiating.

Shoving a handful of pills down his throat and taking a long drink of water, Bogatir gets ready to leave the van. Breathing lightly, he shoulders the heavy machinegun on his shoulder and pulls down his helmet, as he methodically gets ready to leave the van. "Bronze, if you can't see them straight away, leave it for... scouts, yes?", he smiles, shrugging. "It is perhaps Johnson, sniper in waiting is normal, if unbusinesslike, is it not?"

"And besides. I can't find glasses, so no sniping for me.", he chuckles, another glimpse of the old man as he slowly readies himself, then with a muffled cough and a shake engages his move-by-wire systems. It feels so good, yet is so bad... Like life, I suppose..., he muses, before taking off the safety. "I am ready."

Hey guys, quick update, I'm having quite the busy week, as I'm trying to move into a new place, work full time, and finalise things with my university. I'll get a post in soon, sorry about my delay!

Bogatir nods solemnly as Blue opens the pillbox for him. "Thank you...", he says after a small moment of clearing his throat. Nodding slowly at Blue, he smiles, his eyes suggesting both worry and pride. "You do, rebyonka", he chuckles. Taking out two small orange pills, he swallows them with a sip of water and leans back down. A few minutes later, his trembling seems to calm itself to a manageable level, and he finishes with his medical procedures with seemingly too practiced motions. How many days did I lose? Either too many or not enough. He sits staring in the distance for a moment longer, then a determined look sits on his face. "Bah!", he lets out, standing up. "I will make tea. Does anyone want?", he asks, slowly rising himself up, shuffling slowly towards the kitchenette.

As Derek comes back to regale regarding the meet, Bogatir is sitting by the boarded window, eyes glued onto a screen with an ancient trid show on it. "This is not true!", he barks at the screen with arms raised. "Badgers weren't around in the Second Euro War! They rolled them out in field at the end of it, but they weren't in combat!", he points towards the APC showing on the screen with clear resentment. "Expecting Ares to display history properly. Bah! Next thing they'll say is they make best automatic weaponry and fighter jets! Bah!", he mutters, turning off the screen and slowly standing up. "So, down the coast?", he asks, staring once again through the boarded window. "Ha! I haven't left town in years! When do we go?", he asks, more in the tone of someone whose kids are taking him to a field trip, rather than an experienced shadowrunner thinking about an assault on a corp facility. Sipping his tea, he nods at Derek. "So egg is elven, yes? Or even older...", he mentions, staring at the object. "Would be good to have it out of hair soon, then.", he remarks. "Hmm. In such case, I have meeting on Tuesday, and...", he stops in for a racking cough, shoving away a bloodied tissue a moment later. "I'll be ready to go. But tonight!", he says happily, pointing towards the fridge. "We drink! To friendship! To victory! To high speed chases!... And to a life of adventure!" The last phrase sounding a bit more melancholic than the previous, as he shuffles to the fridge, pulling out a large bottle of vodka and reaching for shot glasses. Despite the trembling, the old Russian manages not to spill a single drop. "So! How have last years been for you all? Good, I hope?", he asks as he places the six shots on the table at once, then sits down in a chair.

Ready to move to the meet when you are! I could probably write some story snippets for Bogatir while he's waiting for the break, but it's looking like a busy week for me, since I'm moving town and starting a new job.

I'm fine with doing the checks to learn more about the bug and the pursuers, but I wouldn't mind moving forward towards the drop!

Regarding my post, I was hoping to capture Bogatir's condition with it, as he is entirely 'too old for this s*#!', and busted to boot. Not meaning to draw away from the tracking and tracing, just felt like writing it!

Bogatir remains mostly silent for the rest of the van trip. His motionless is interrupted by the occasional small spasm, which results in a frown momentarily appearing on his face, replaced a split second later by a sad look of acceptance.

As the rest settles back into the hideout, he takes off his armour and gently places the machinegun on the ground. His hands disappear in his backpack, taking out a ridiculously out of fashion cosmetics bag. He slowly sits down on a rickety coach. As he opens the box, he starts pulling out several pillboxes, two syringes and a small bottle of water. He sighs deeply, as he mentally sends the command to disengage the move-by-wire protocols.

A moment later, the orc slumps back, a trickle of blood trailing from his nose. The lighting fast reflexes and precise movements seem like something out of a vision as a trembling hand moves up to wipe it. He reaches for the pillbox and gives it several unsuccessful attempt to open it. Surrendering, he slumps back into the chair, continuing to unnaturally shake, as he looks at the group, a bitter smile on his lips. I'll just... do it later. It should be alright..., he thinks, as he clears his throat. "Eh...", he says quietly, the bolsterous shouts in the van seeming like distant memory. "Unless you need backup for tracking trip... I'll take a small break, yes?", he lets out, his eyes staring in the distance at the people moving. I wonder what Dr. Mendez will say about this particular... endeavor. "I still got it, right?", he mentions to nobody in particular as he remembers the fresh memory of cutting down the man with the assault cannon. "I still got it." A moment later, he reaches for the pillbox with shaking hands again, continuing his struggle.

Sorry about lateness in posting, I was travelling for the weekend.

Bogatir nods grimly as the second cannon wielder drops, then remains sitting, the machinegun checking corners with insane speed and precision. "Yes. Let's go home.", he replies to Derek, as he leans onto the wall, rubbing a hand on his head. I'll feel this soon..., he sighs to himself, as he lays down Molodets next to him. "So what is with the egg?", he asks Michael, pointing at the artefact-looking item.

I'm all for setting next scene in the hideout?

"They are resilient!", shouts Bogatir, as the clip shoots out from his gun and drops to the floor of the van. His hand darts to his belt, drawing a clip and loading it into the machinegun with a trained motion.

The machinegun darts up once more, firing at the second wielder of the assault cannon, spitting out another barrage of lead. "Keep coming! Ha-ha-haa!"

Surprised to see the man standing after his barrage, Bogatir wipes his brow. I'd rather not see that gun pointed in our direction., he thinks, as he aims the HMG towards the man. A bump on the road sends his first barrage wilder than he imagined, stray bullets flying away into the distance. His eyes check his hud, where a line in Russian, yet understandable by all glares and pulses in red.

'Запасы боеприпасов 5/40!', an image of an empty magazine pinging.

He breathes out, then aims, pulling the trigger until Molodets clicks empty. Moving his eyes away from the target, a mental command ejects the blue-hued clip onto the floor of the van.

Gripping the heavy machinegun with one hand, Bogatir grins at Derek. "Hah! Now, I use both hands!", he laughs out as he squeezes out of the driver's seat and shuffles forwards, aiming the machinegun at the newly arrived man with an assault cannon. "That's big gun, but like we say in Union!", he shouts out as he kneels next to Bronze, a thinly-spread hailstorm of bullets flying towards the armoured individual. He pauses after the first burst, frowning at the result. "Quantity has quality of its own, yes? Ha-ha!", he grins, as the gun clocks the target once more, the loud buzzing sound of lead flying to strike its target down.

"Ha-ha!", laughs out Bogatir as the car starts swerving. "This ice cream truck has teeth!", he roars out as he pokes his head out of the window one last time, aiming at the car and letting out two long bursts, the roar of the gun almost deafening. "Ha-hahaa!", he roars as the bullets find their marks.
Осторожно: 50% склад боеприпасов., his ARO informs, letting the ork know heavy bullets are in short supply. Darting his head back in, he grins at Derek. "My friend! I've missed this, you should know.", he laughs, putting his hand on the steering wheel to continue driving at least until Derek's ready, as the van narrowly dodges an automatic truck. Slamming his foot in the accelerator, he continues forward, throwing a glance in the back mirror to enjoy the carnage to come. I'll feel this in an hour or so, but hell. I've not felt so alive in years.

I'm back, guys! I'll be back to regular posting soon!

Hey guys! Quick update, I mentioned I will be scarcely posting this week, as I'm just about wrapping up with university, period.

In addition, my laptop had honorably passed away, luckily the day after I handed in my final report. I'll be looking into getting it fixed, but for now I'll be posting scarcely, if I find somewhere to do it from. I'd ask you to bot me, if possible, and I'll try and get on with the game ASAP.

Cheers, and sorry!

Hi all!

I'm just warning you, I'm about to finish my final bachelor's degree project, so my posting might be patchy in the next week-ish. I'll still try and post, but it's possible that a day or two might pass where I'd be unable to do so, so feel free to bot me!

Bogatir can mostly drive the van, if need be for me to act, while Derek takes a break, and take the occasional potshot. Or, more accurately, potblast.

Grunting, Bogatir nods at Derek. "I'll keep it on the road, don't worry.", he replies to Derek with a half-smile. Holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, he shoulders the heavy machinegun's strap over his shoulder. The heavy-duty alloyed hand slides into the grip with ease.

A split-second later, a grinning, tusked mouth leans out of the window. The stabilisation fins on his right arm are sticking all the way out, as he points the weapon towards the hood of the BMW. Checking the road once more, with a split-second twitch of his neck, Bogatir lets out a barrage of armour-piercing bullets.

The bullets fly straight into the car's hood, leaving craters wherever they land. Grinning, Bogatir pulls the machinegun back into the car, focusing on the road. "Haha!", he bursts out, fixing the BMW in the back-view camera. "If we're lucky, it'll be too expensive to risk the car!", he shares, well aware of the low odds of that happening.

"Got it!", shouts back Bogatir, as his foot hits the pedal. Tires screech and the van shakes as he re-appears on the highway, laughs coming out of his mouth. "Derek, take over when you have chance, yes?", he says, still keeping his hand on the steering wheel, then throws a look at the rearview camera. "If someone has a moment, can you reload Molodets?", he asks, pointing towards his belt, where to drums and a clip are attached. "The blue clip!" If nobody's particularly busy, now that we're on the highway, Bogatir can probably go for some vehicular murder.

"Towards Barrens, then.", nods Bogatir, his hand removing his hat and wiping a sweaty forehead with it. "I'd thought I'd miss visiting there.", he grunts, swerving the steering wheel to narrowly avoid yet another dumpster. "I don't know if jammer affects cyber. If not, you can do it, I can handle car without установка куколника.", he replies, shaking his head. "Rig.", he corrects himself with a smirk. "And I'd need someone to tell me road to Barrens.", a finger points towards the several screens in front of him, where a Seattle map is displayed.

"Hrmph.", mutters Bogatir. "What pilots say? Any landing you walk from is good one, yes?", he chuckles, reaching for his bag to put on his cap. "So, Mr. Rigger. Can you change outside of van? Make it look like other van? I can probably lose them in small streets.", he asks, as he notes a side street to the right. Giving a false signal for a left turn for a couple of seconds, he suddently turns to the back. "Hold strong, yes?", he asks, as he turns the wheel rapidly to the right in an evasive maneuver.

Pilot(Car): 14d6 ⇒ (5, 2, 3, 1, 1, 1, 5, 1, 5, 4, 5, 1, 4, 2) = 40 4 hits Don't know what the handling on this thing is, but I'm assuming no self respecing rigger would go around with too many negatives.

The van swerves rapidly to the right, as the sound of horns, alarms, and Seattleites shouting loudly, as Bogatir's foot floors the gas, the van suddenly dashing into the alley. "Ha-ha! Driving in city is more fun than driving in Siberia!", he laughs, clearly enjoying himself. "And very more fun than taking bus!", he adds as he turns the wheel with his heightened reflexes, evading a garbage bin by no more than five centimeters.

Not sure exactly how chase works in SR - I've decided to go for 'lose them in the smaller streets' move. Bogatir is a good driver, but he's no rigger, so trying to drive a van in actual alleys isn't something he'd be looking forward to do.

Bogatir nods at the driver's seat. "I'll drive. I have no more Gel rounds, and I'd rather not kill whoever's chasing us.", he shares as he sits in the front seat. "Derek, are you alright?", he asks, clearly worried about the rigger. "And are rest of you alright?", he continues. "And do you have manual emulation on this car?", he asks, scratching his head with an alloyed finger, laying down the heavy machinegun behind his seat.

Putting his hands on the steering wheel and resisting the temptation to poke his elbow out of the window, Bogatir waits for Derek to kick in the authorisation for him to drive, then takes the van out to the damp Seattle streets. "So! What is up with dragon egg? Anyone have idea of what we do with it now? Or even, what it is?", he asks, passing by a cab.

I apologise for assuming actions for fellow party members, but I think we all want to get out of here! Bogatir's taking his action as others run behind him, and then runs towards the hole, suppressing the guards as he does so. I hope that's ok, and I did double check the Suppressive Fire rules, but if something is wrong, let me know!

Thanks!

"Run! I cover!", Bogatir barks out, as he turns around, starting to run backwards. "Stay down, guards!", he roars, as the other two skitter past him. The heavy machinegun in his hands starts tearing through the exhibits, starting to spew out a wall of rubber. Shards of glass start flying around the room, as the gun tears the glass and priceless items apart. Such shame. I hope they are insured., a thought passes through the old ork's head, the thought baring for a moment through the telemetry data. It's sad when pragmatism kills art and history. As soon as the last one jumps in the hole, he follows through.

Bogatir is using suppressive fire, and will delay until everyone else has passed him, using 20 from his remaining bullets (4 remain)
Suppressing Fire: 20d6 ⇒ (2, 4, 1, 1, 1, 4, 6, 3, 2, 6, 6, 5, 4, 4, 1, 3, 5, 1, 6, 1) = 66 Suppressing an area of 10x2 meters, width/height, anyone who attempts to move or fire in it, needs to succeed on a Reaction+Edge test with a Threshold of 5, or be hit for 12S, AP-1

Wow. That resist roll! Serves me right, bringing a vehicle-mounted weapon into a gunfight.

His massive arms snapping forward, Bogatir sprints towards the nearest cover, as he feels the bullets smashing themselves in his armour. The heavy machinegun bursts in a thundering roar of bullets, as a barrage of thickly grouped rounds flies towards the orc in charge.

As the barrage stops, Bogatir leaps into a column, almost completely dodging the barrage coming his way. <"There might not be enough non-lethal for all guards.">, he relates, just as he hears the explosion. <"Report, Bronze?">, he shouts out quickly, eyes glancing at the already half-empty clip.

I would imagine Bogatir not being willing to surrender, so he'd probably be firing at the guards, while the rest of you escape. He'd also prefer it if you didn't get caught on your 'final' mission.

It's not that he's itching for a fight, just he wouldn't be willing to go in prison, but rather cover you or draw the fire to himself. Which means, I am totally getting more armour the moment it's available.

@the XCOM game - I checked it out when it came out, I think, but I think I had a couple too many games on my tab at the time, and it's looking like I might be stretched a bit too thin.

That being said, I did have a concept for another XCOM game in the works, an Tanzanian ranger involved with several wars in the continent, and being recruited in the XCOM initiative after being... exposed to extraterrestrial individials while on the job. I'll give it a thought, but I'll gladly let someone else take on that sweet XCOM opportunity.

Regarding healing Stun damage, I think that's not a thing, due to mages then being able to heal drain. However, if it specifically won't be able to heal Drain, I think the GM might be willing to think about it.

Also, I don't like this ork coming on my turf with his fancy arms. I will be going for him next, with a full-auto burst at him. Should give him something to think about.

@Retroactive Armour - Bogatir was left with practically nothing after I gave him most of the gear, so I can't buy anything. If he survives this one, he might look into purchasing some.

For tying for initiative, I believe there was the abbreviation ERIC, or Edge, Reaction, Intuition, Coin toss. :)

Oh, that's fine, GM. I also forgot that the narrow burst does 3 more damage/burst, hopefully the guard doesn't bite it. Multiple shattered ribs is fine, though.

"Shame about the vase.", remarks Bogatir, as the undoubtedly priceless artefact shatters on the ground. Re-checking his gun, he jerks around, making sure nobody else was hurt. "You are sure, Derek? If cavalry shows up, we'll have to take them down lethally." He takes a look at the guards, sighing. "Let's keep moving.", he says, moving forward to take point next to Asimov, moving quickly past the exhibitions, ignoring the glaring alarms. I'll have my worse headache in years if this goes on much further., he thinks, grumbling under his nose.

I've not been reading on my 4e books for a while - I've indicated the number of hits Bogatir got, as have I the damage he'd do with the rubber bullets, assuming no dodges or soak.

If there's anything unclear about the situation - He's got Agi 9 for shooting the gun, a skill of 9, and a hard-wired smartlink. The recoil calibration is 13, 7 from the weapon and 3 from each arm, the arm one being able to reduce movement negatives, as the one from the running.

As for the cover, yes, that sounds fun. Also, fighting in museums and stuff like that gives the opportunity to go and describe bullets tearing through vases, glass, additional alarms starting. Shadowrun does lend itself to that rather nicely.

Coughing out from the pistol shot landing on his chest, Bogatir looks at the guards. They have balls., he states, as the old ork breaks into a sprint down the hallway. "<Get to cover. I take point.>", his message sounds, as he continues his stampede towards the guards, machinegun raised.

Grunting from his aching chest, Bogatir starts running down the hallway, machinegun at the ready. As soon as he spots a guard, the gun starts shooting, every bullet accompanied by a loud, thudding sound, and a jitter from his massive arms. Snapping from one guard, he aims at the other, pulling the trigger once more.

I agree with Bronze here - Theatre of the Mind isn't hard to imagine, and reduces the strain on the GM, too, which is fairly important. And I personally don't have to worry about range increments.

EDIT: Regarding the theatre of the mind - I gathered that everyone except Bronze and Junkyard are next to Michael as he picks up the egg. Are they outside of the chamber of the egg, next to our getaway vehicle, setting an ambush for the guards, or are they in the same room, getting ready to slow the approaching guards with lethal/non-lethal means?

Oh, you've moved quite a bit! I've decided to go with the 'glitchy old system loading for the first time in years' thing. Hopefully the tech people can understand just enough so its interesting.

Regarding dragons turning up, I think now that I'm back, we have the lethal option, though abstaining from it is a good choice.

Bogatir breaks his silence. He's been far from enthusiastic about robbing the place, and a lot more about meeting up with old friends. As the alarm sounds, however, he almost leaps, flicking a mental switch.

-------Богатир Система 0.9.132 Загрузка: 94%----------
--
---
----
The familiar text appears on his HUD once more, as a headache begins. Eh. The doctor said not to turn it on, unless it's an emergency. I think red alarm is enough of emergency., he smirks to himself. A sharp pain begins in his spine, as he groans, loud enough for others to hear.

--------ОСТОРОЖНО!-------
--Невралгичная интеграция неполнa - проблеми мозга Б-123, О-31, Щ-551.--
Переопределение? Д/Н?

Jittering in place, Bogatir nodded to the neural override. The before slow and meticulous orc reached into his bag, released the heavy machinegun, loaded a clip and released the safety. All in the course of half a second. "I'm ready. Sorry about... That.", he mutters to those staring at him, as the machinegun chambers through bullets.

---Hесмертельного боеприпасов выбранный: 40/40---,

the HUD informs, as the rubber bullets are selected, followed by a warning about low ammo. "I hope they will not fight to death. I only had one non-lethal clip remaining...", he shares, as he lifts the eighty pound machinegun on his shoulder as if it was a carbine. "But I am ready."

Hi all! Really sorry for my much longer than expected absence. I'll understand if you'd like to continue as you were, as I was gone without notice for a really long time, and I didn't contact either of you.

However, I'd be looking of going back into the game, if you'd have me. If not, I wish you the best of runs, and the best of luck. And don't go around making deals with dragons.

Hi all!

I know I've been rather quiet lately, which is in relation with what's been happening with me for the last week or so. Life's been generally bad, and I'm currently getting some major flak, related to Britain's current state of affairs (as a foreigner there), and I'll have to take at least a week or two to get my head around things.

I fully plan to continue the game, and I'm sorry I only now let you know, but up to today, I thought I'd be able to get things done, which is no longer the case.

Sorry about all that, and hopefully, see you soon!

Thank you for the opportunity, and all the best until later!

Ismail sits next to Bronze, a smile on his face, as he lifts the vodka in his shaky hand, and taking a long drink, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Nazdorovye!", he chuckles. Looking around, he looks at the troll drinking alone, and shuffles a seat to place himself between him and Bronze. "Come on, my friend. It's shameful to drink alone. Thoughts can't escape the head. Come join us, no?", he proposes, pointing towards a seat between them. "We share a story, you share a story, sounds like plan?", he asks, curling up his old shirt's sleeves.

Negotiation(Diplomacy): 9d6 ⇒ (6, 3, 6, 5, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2) = 27 3 hitsDon't know if that's the right skill.