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Richard shrugs. "Well, we're not finding them now. I say we go somewhere and bullshit somethin'." He draws one of his axes and wipes the blade on his shirt. "How's this - we've found somethin' toxic or somethin' in the sewers, and want to check if there's some place the kids and all are hangin' around. Kids and elderly are the first to get afficted by stuff like this, ja?"
Richard appears from behind a corner, scratching his head. "Eish. If I wanted to disappear, I'd go for the sewers. Not even dogs can smell ya here.", he notes. "So what I found was some kids, I think about eight. And they know somethin' is comin' after them, so they're hidin' the tracks.", he adds. He shrugs. "So, kids runnin' away from somethin'. I say, they saw some shit, possibly told someone, and then nobody believed them, so they started runnin'. If we ask around the town, there's bound to be someone who knows where the kids used to run around, isn't it? Old buildings, abandoned train stations, that sort of stuff.", he proposes. "All we need to do is start asking about the town's children without looking like a bunch of pedos.", he laughs out.
Richard grins. "There's no bears in English woods. Wolves, either. English hunted pretty much anythin' that could eat them to extinction, wherever they went. Cows is the most dangerous animals in here, boss, before our friends from space came."I sure could go for some beef now, mind you. His smile turns towards Jacob. "Sure thing.", he says, glancing down at the shirt. "Though, I got to say, shit-covered stone isn't the best material a tracker can work with."
Richard sighs, then opens his bag, pulling out a set of overalls, a toolbelt and a tool-kit. "And here I was hopin' I'd get to go to fancy places. But tuff luck, in this part of the country.", he chuckles, as he pulls out a set of goggles and a set of wire-cutters. "I don't think those are out of place? There's bound to be some shit gunked up and locks getting jiggy, ja?", he shrugs, before putting on a reflective jacket. "Just for in town.", he comments, before grabbing the toolbelt, and heading towards the sewers. Rolls:
"Eish.", mutters Richard, scratching his head. "Let's hope sewers smell cleaner in this country, ye?", he shrugs. Pulling out his phone, he points the location of the pharmacy to the rest of his team. "See you there in twenty, ye?" Patting his bag, a muffled sound of weapon rustles inside. "I'll get band-aids. Surprisingly us'ful things, you know." He leans back on his chair, putting his hands behind his head and letting out a sigh. "And here I hoped we'd get a chance to talk with de locals in the waterin' hole first.", he shrugs.
"Well, shit.", Richard's voice carries on the radio. "The little bastard went and get into a flying saucer or something.", he mutters, anger in his voice. "There's one of those mad crop circles - I'll move back in cover unless the locals decide I'm the one getting funny with their forest.", he relays, angrily swinging at a nearby tree with his axe. "Boss man, what I do?"
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! I wish you all a wonderful time, lots of joy and overflowing plates! I had no power for the better part of December and now I'm away. I'll be back before new years, and I'm looking forward to starting again!
Richard continues his pursuit in the woods, ducking from tree to tree with surprising efficiency. As he notes the blood, he points it out to Jacob, then continues down the trail. I should've probably got my gun. But I'm not answering questions about guns in here..., he thinks, as he follows the trail with all the speed he can muster. "Makeba here. Still in pursuit.", he whispers into the radio, before pointing his attention to the tracks once more.
"Ja, boss. On route now.", he says, shoving the broken glass out of the way, as he leaps through the window. Landing into the gravel next to the trainline with an 'oof', he sheathes his axes, nodding at Jacob. "Le'see what's the weirdest blod in the area.", he replies, as he quickly starts following the path where the gray went. As soon as he reaches the woods, he starts looking for tracks, his nose breathing in deep the smell of the trees with a pleased sigh, before he crouches down to look, then quietly begins following the trail. "Mind yo step, ja?", he whispers to Jacob. Rolls:
High Speed is not the word I'd use for them, considering I go with them twice a week.
Score one more vote in the 'Shhh... I'm huntin' x-rays' camp. Both me and Jacob are decent at sneaking, so it shouldn't be much of a problem of finding out where it's going. Regarding the train, Richard would happily shove that to the "People in the stars." to let them smoothen things over and cover evidence.
Richard stares at the small frame quickly disappearing, as he murmurs a phrase questioning its parentage. Nodding at Jacob, he frenziedly swings his axes viciously towards the window, sending shrapnel of glass and plastic out onto the tracks. As he gets ready, he nods at Jacob. "Get 'im, Captin Farrell.", he grins, tapping on his ear. "This is Makeba, in pursuit of survivor. If the cart lady comes by, I'll take a coffee. What's your status, over?", he replies, before jumping out the window. Smashing the windows:
It does have its downsides, true enough. I should've said something in Discussion, I guess, but I imagined people are pretty busy over the coming holidays. I assumed that Jacob and I will pursuit, given that we are two rather quick individuals. I attacked the window, so Jacob can run in first and catch up with it.
"It's thick-skulled!", Richard replies, slightly embarrased. He reaches for his radio, wiping an axe on the navy-blue upholstery of the train. "It seems to be runnin' away in the countryside, ja?", he points towards the broken window."I can track it, should I pursue, Boss?", he asks over the comms, while looking at Jacob. A grin suggests that whoever of the two gives the order to go, he'll obey it. Pushing a severed limb from the smaller creature with his boot, he raises an eyebrow at Naomi. "If I was to say now - The hunter becomes the hunted.", his grin widens. "How cliched would I be?"
Letting the severed bodies shuffle off his axes, as his gaze is drawn to the larger leader. "Eish!", he comments, seeing the gray matter and viscera flood the ground. As his sight gazes into the unearthly, purple aura, he feels his resolve weaken. Until he takes a long, loud sniff of the stale and filthy train air, the smell of alien blood in his nostrils. He takes a step forward. "I have your scent now. Isibindi!", he roars, swinging the axes in an arc with the blades on the outside. Rolls/OoC: GM - Is there any way I could approach for non-lethal takedown? Smacking it with the blunt end of the axe, or kicking it in the face? Not sure if it's even possible, so I'll roll, and you apply the penalty?
I'm imagining it's because sometimes you need to fit in a square peg, when the current hole is round. There might be some fun new feature, though!
Ducking under Jacob's barrage, Richard is a terrifying sight. A wide grin appears on his face, as he stares down the tiny aliens, bringing his hatchets up. "What the captin said, ja?", he hisses, lunging forwards with a wide double overhead slash. The two hatchets land into flesh with a loud thwack, as blood flies into the air, the South African's smile growing wider with bloodthirst. "We should take one alive, ja?", he asks.
Rolls: And Again.
Good luck with the exams, Jacob! Hopefully I got the rolls right - this is my first combat post, I think. If something is wrong do let me know, but in general, Richard is charging forward and butchering. Is there a way to do nonlethal damage?
Richard stares with part amazement, part horror as Jacob assembles the improvised explosive. He spins the hatchets in his hands, nodding at the door. "Ready for breaching.", he suggests. I sure am glad I had a month to wrap my head around this..., he thinks, feeling sweat appearing on his brow.
"There are some ugly people in this part of England, ye?", nods Richard at Jacob, as he pulls out the handles from the backpack, and shoves it on an empty seat. Two heavy axes lie in his hands. Aliens? What? Why am I okay with this?, he shakes his head in disbelief, then sighs, grinning at Naomi. "You take left, I take right, ja?", he suggests, feeling the blade of the axe, as Jacob begins scrounging for explosive materials.
Bumping into the door, Richard bites his lip. Drawing his axe, he nods at Naomi. "We go and see wha's what?", he whispers, peeking towards the doorframe. Let's hope they didn't hear that... Rolls:
Richard grins at Naomi. "I'll be keepin' my diary away from you, then.", he lets out a chuckle, then nods towards the rest. "I'll go in first, yeah?", he says, reaching into his bag and drawing two narrow headed axes. and his vest. "You strap mine I'll strap yours, ye?", he whispers, holstering the hatchets under his sizeable marshmallow jacket. If it was any other situation, I'd be excited about fighting in a train., he thinks, staring forwards.
Richard's eyebrows start darting up and down, as more of his squadmates seem to react to the wave. Raising one at the medic, his lips curl in a nervous smile. "Yis, it's not something you should start with. So, I'm taking you've not had...", he scratches his shaved head, "Brain-mumbling shit like this, ye?" He pauses. "I see two possibilities. Either something's targeting us specifically, or the whole train. If it's the first, we're f&!+ed, yes? If it's the second, I want to make sure the train driva is not staring blankly at shit, ye?" He stands up, grabbing his backpack from above, unzips it and straps it on one shoulder. "I suggest someone come with me, and two more stay here to keep an eye on them.", he notions towards Jacob and Borax. "We've got comms, ye?", he whispers as he stands up, feeling inside of the bag, then smiling as he feels what he's looking for. Well, axes aren't strictly illegal here.
"Sentiment's shared here, Docta.", says Richard. "Whatever's out there, we find it, yeah?", he mentions before entering the train. As he stares through the window, the green planes of South England moving before his eyes, dotted with the occasional, almost pastoral, village, his head starts hurting. Frowning, he turns back to the rest, putting a grin on his face. "Oh. Is it just me, or did we have bad chasers last night? My head is pulsing, ye?" Rubbing his temples with a slightly annoyed look, he notices nobody pays attention to him. "Are we... there yet? I don't think we're there yet?" Rolls:
"It's a good thing to be out of the lab, yes.", replies Richard, sending his grin towards the doctor. As the conversation turns somewhat grimmer, he laughs out loud. "Ah, Doctas! We don't know anythin' before we do, yes? So let's go and operate, and what was that smartass thing that American shows said, ye?", he grins, scratching his stubble. "Ah, yes. Assuming makes asses of you and me, yes? So let's go and see what's stirrin' up little England. Things that aren't five foreigners suddently arriving in a small town.", he laughs, pulling one of the overalls' straps over his shoulder.
Richard's going to wear a set of blue overalls over a normal t-shirt, combined with a utility belt and a backpack. In the backpack there'll be his hatchets, and possibly a pistol. He's also wearing glasses with tape in the middle, because there's nothing that makes you less intimidating.
Richard nods, grinning at Jacob. "Yes, boss.", he replies, before scratching his head. "Eh, so if we've got the covar of a big agency, one based here in Landon, it should be easy to explain what an Irishman and a South African are doing in there." He pulls out a phone and starts flicking on the screen. "Just need to see what company works in there...", he mutters, before grinning. "There! Going to put the req's at the quartamaster." Eh. Sewercrawling. At least they're probably relatively clean in here, with the rain and whatnot.
I'm back! I'm working on a post for Richard right now, I'll be back on regular tracks now.
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! Since this is looking to be a more RP situation going to town, I'll try and add On The Train spoilers if I've missed some RP situations.
Having enjoyed London, to the extent his salary allows, Richard comes into the command centre. Throwing a wolf whistle at the new hardware, he lets out a chuckle. "Eh, taxpayer would be proud.", he remarks as he stares at the globe, then throws the general an honest-to-god, formal salute. "Gen'ral Hatcher, sir." Scratching his head, he shrugs. "Eh. The polis in Landon seems to be good, ye?", he comments, scratching his head. Oh, shit, forgot to remove the earrings..., he bites his teeth, sitting and putting a hand on the side of his face, doing his best to conceal the breach of conduct. "So if they're not invest'gating, and they're surely not bribed, ye? So that means it's us invest'gating." He sends a nod to Jacob. "It could be the government itself covering it up, ye, Captin?", he says with a smile. Standing up a bit more formally, he throws a glance at the General. "Eh. Gen'ral, sir. The Brits don't have 'formal firearm' and 'everyday firearm', right?", he grins. "I imagine this place, it's a small British town, ye? Could I request that my clothing is a suit with a tie, and get a briefcase and a pair of glasses?"Not so sure how it is in here, but small town polis is small town polis. Suit is better than a hoodie, and I brought my 'decorative ceremonial copies' paperwork.
In the pub: Richard listens to the tales with interest, ordering the bottle of wine after the conversation starts unfolding. He laughs out loud at Naomi's escapades, nods solemnly as Jacob retales a tale of love long lost, and delves deep into his steak as Gavril starts talking about brawling and hatchets, eyebrow raised. "Eh! A fellow hatchitman! It's a lost art, it is.", he laughs. Pausing for a moment, a wide grin shines on his face. "Speaking of hatchits and pairs, I think I got something you'd like to see!", he laughs, eyes darting left and right to indicate he's fully aware of the innuendo, and doesn't feel even remotely sorry. "It's a good thing this is a smaller unit, then. Less cockwaving." He takes a bite from his steak, shrugging approvingly at the taste, then looks around. "So we're working for the UN? I worked for thim for years, and nob'dy ever told me they had...", he looks around to check if anyone's eavesdropping, "anti-alien taskforces.", he whispers.
At the Pub: Richard nods at the story, raising an eyebrow as SWAT is mentioned. "Oh. So we're not all from the milit'ry!", he shrugs, lifting a glass of red wine. Too cold for beer. "I guess that's one reason why I som'times envied the police. You don't have to get dragged all around the place." He raises a hand. "And from what I know, usually less regulation on talking.", he chuckles. "I'd consid'red it. One of the things I've always wanted was a place of my own. You know, just a flat, with a balcony, ideally one where I can throw braais and a glass of wine or seven on.", he takes another long drink and shrugs. "I was looking at one, when I was stationed next to Cape Town. But there's no much point. You live and do ev'rything with the regiment, you know." He winks at Rosa. "And not every milit'ry in the world gets as good a pay as the American ones. I barely afford a new car, so rent and all its downsides are the world for the foreseeable future." He shrugs. "Although, aliens are more interesting than real estate!" Staring at the kitchen's door, he taps the table. Let's see how those steaks are in here.
Beer? In this cold?, Richard raises an eyebrow to the older man's suggestion, and gets ready to suggest something, then plasma is mentioned. "Huh. I seen that too. In humans, no less. At least, red-bleeding humans...", he adds, then grins. "Well, I suggest those more familiar in London lead the way. More familiar with jungles of the green variety.", he chuckles.
So it's not just weird materials, it's aliens, too. Crazy stuff, ye?, Richard thinks, listening and soaking in the information like a sponge. "Ye, Gen'ral. Honoured to be here.", he replies in a smile. Hohoho! Area 51 and all!, he can't help grinning widely.
"So you been in the, eh, XCOM long? What's that like, and what brought y'here?", he asks as soon as the introductions start. "Maself, SANDF, Army, Recon Specialist and Ranger, I s'pose would be your word for it. Ran into some weird materials and guns in Angola, wrote a weird report, and they shipped me here in the cold.", he chuckles. "You all ex-military, ye?", he looks around in interest.
Oh, I did plan on Richard learning a bit of the explosive arts from Jacob. After all, the only thing better than an explosive in the enemy's midsts is an explosive in the enemy's midsts that they are unaware of.
A few moments after Naomi steps in the room, a muscular, dark-skinned man walks through the door, a wide grin on his face, as he studies the place. Hoho. Someone has funding. He's dressed in a glisteningly white short-sleeved uniform shirt, markings missing from the shoulders and khaki fatigue trousers, tucked a set of heavy boots, he takes a long sip from a mug of coffee, as he notices the highest ranking officer in the room and the name on the uniform. Quickly, bordering on panicked, he finishes the mug and stands tall for a formal salute. His flashingly white grin disappears for a moment as he starts speaking. "Gen'ral Hatcher, sir!", he says in a thick South African accent. "I was told to report for duty, sir. Corp'ral Richard Makeba, SANDF." A smile crawls back on his face, seemingly its natural state. "Eh. Would a briefing be poss'ble, sir? I was shipped to London, and I been kept in the dark so far." Frankly, I have no f%+$ing clue what's going on., he thinks, looking around the room at the soldiers, offering each a wide smile.
No issues on the luggage, Richard is quite the strong chap. Does that extend to psychological luggage, too?
Hello! I'm told to report here for duty, in order to get whatever those aliens are back where they come from. Makeba is a survivalist, scout, and close quarters combatant, mostly similar to a Scout Ranger from XCOM 2. I'll be looking forward to playing with you all! |
