Trask, Assistant Tech's page

Trask whimpers as the yelling and shooting starts again. He at least has the sense of self to aim in the direction of the mooks.

Attack: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2

Trask, overwhelmed by the shooting and the yelling and the general madness, simply cowers on the ground. "WHY IS EVERYONE YELLING AND SHOOTING!!", screams the little reptiloid.

Appeal to Reason: 1d6 ⇒ 1

Trask whimpers as he approaches the knot of crew members purchasing weapons. "But... but Drakul... this money was for Trask and Drakul to buy a farm... Get away from trouble like this. Doesn't Drakul remember?" He turns to his companion, who is gone. "...Drakul...??"

Trask slings behind Drakul, nervously looking around for the promised weapons, for someone who might yell at them, or anything dangerous.

Perception, but fearful: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Trask wrote:

Trask, being slower and less ferocious on the topic of food than Drakul, is only able to find an abandoned food tray to chew on. His teeth are barely able to dent the plastic.

(One of the food service employees, feeling sorry for the creature, slips Trask some stale StarBurger(TM)s, and several donuts that don't look moldy... yet.)

Drakul, seeing that Trask has something that Drakul doesn't, attacks Drakul, who nearly immediately gives up all the donuts except one that had slid under the tray during the scuffle, and a few of the wrappers that were too shredded post-fight to interest Drakul. Upon finding the rogue donut, Trask shoves the entire thing into his mouth, and scurries, almost choking, behind the rest of the crew on their way to the cargo bay.

Trask, being slower and less ferocious on the topic of food than Drakul, is only able to find an abandoned food tray to chew on. His teeth are barely able to dent the plastic.

Gather Information: 1d6 ⇒ 1

The sound of teeth on plastic is off-putting. People move away from the pathetic, hungry reptiloid.

C'mon Trask little buddy...
Soak damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5

The return fire only grazes the little Trask, but it's enough to spin his fairly fragile mind into a stranger-than-usual place.

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The dragon stares down at the quivering heap that is Trask.

You're rather disappointing progeny, you know.

Trask can't even look at the majestic beast in front of him.

We thought a servitor race would be a boon. All of us can work less, focus on what really makes life enjoyable - some people even thought that you were cute enough to make pets. The dragon stares flatly at Trask for a beat. An opinion that I certainly never shared.

The dragon sighs, and a cloud of smoke fills the area. And instead we have these barely continent, accident-prone little... things that bear closer resemblance to scaled monkeys than anything close to our majesty. Little scalerats can't even handle a laser rifle properly. Do you know what a dragon does with a broken laser rifle, Trask?

Trask finally pulls his claws off from over his eyes, puzzled. "Wh- wh- what does a dragon do with a broken laser rifle?"

The dragon's voice is high pitched and mocking. "What does a dragon do with a broken laser rifle?" The voice sounds puzzled.

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Trask comes out of his faint, the face of Able slowly swimming into view. This, at least, explained the smell of smoke.

"What the hell do you mean, what does a dragon do wit-"

Before Able is able to finish, Trask grabs the laser rifle and charges into the pack of soldiers, throwing the laser rifle with all of his might into the closest guard.

Hallucination-Inspired Improvised Thrown Weapon: 1d6 ⇒ 4

As the gun leaves Trask's hands, the viewscreen changes.

Updates complete! Testing automatic fire mode...

For a second, Trask and the guard both wear the same surprised look on their faces.

A second later, only Trask still has the face to make surprised looks with.

Trask follows obediently behind Drakul, whimpering occasionally at the fear that he will be held responsible for the engine fire, the successful turret defense of the ship, and all the other things that Drakul keeps insisting the softskins will blame Trask for.

When they arrive on decks, that small part of Trask that so confidently devasted the launched missles awakens again.

Reptiloid Fury 2: Electric Boogaloo: 1d6 ⇒ 1

...and promptly returns to sleep again as the laser rifle Trask selected begins it's boot process.

Thanks for choosing AresTech's PieceMaker Automatic Laser Rifle!

0% complete! 185 updates downloaded, 173943098713 to go...

Trask begins whining, looking frantically at the pitched gun battle happening around him.

Trask sneaks along the gunnery corridor, fear plastered all over his little snout. "But Drakul... The softskins get so mad when we try to use the guns. Does Drakul remember the Apollyon Station time?" His pleas fall on deaf ears - Drakul sits in the gunner seat, cackling maniacally as missle after missle falls under his onslaught. Trask's eyes keep sliding of their own volition to the other gunnery turret, and after a moment of tortured hesitance, he too slides into the seat and slips a claw around the trigger.

Reptile Gunning Take 2: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Startled by the burst of initial burst of gunfire, Trask quickly overcomes his hesitance. The sound of gleeful reptilian laughter fills the gunnery as the two techs go to town on the stations' weaponry.

Whimpering, Trask watches as the flames begin to belch out of the engine Drakul just vanished into. "Drakul!! Must be safer, Drakul!!" Bucket of water forgotten, Trask dives into the fire to find his friend and hopefully save them from seemingly certain death.

Engine Repair: 1d6 ⇒ 3

In the engine room, Trask sprints into the smoke carrying a bucket of water and a spanner. "DRAKUL! I'm coming!! Don't worry!"

Repair Drakul's mistake and improve engine response: 1d6 ⇒ 2

There is a small explosion, and the smoke intensifies. Somewhere in the engine room an alarm begins to sound.