Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Mick swims up to the boat easily, the relatively fresh salt water of the Pacific feeling like salvation. Reaching for the overboard ladder, the ork quips, "I'm familiar with it, and it's why we're pitching Yung overboard as soon as we're cruising."
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Sharing the internal speakers of the ship does have a bit of a clumsy, two-people-sharing-a-keyboard vibe. So with the ship in good hands, Mouse makes a few adjustments to the yacht's wireless, adjusting the network's settings to allow her a graceful disconnect. << I still have to rearrange this ship's mechanical guts to complete our hostile takeover, but… I'll hold off 'til you're not piloting directly. >> Apparently, for all of her line-crossing humor, Mouse does have a semblance of boundaries. Toying with the boat's hardware now would just be rude.
Instead, she breaks with her old habits, emerging from her hotsim comforts to venture topside. She cracks a wide grin and leans over the rail, watching the silhouettes of her teammates grow larger and more defined. "THAT HAS GOT TO BE THE SECOND WORST THING I'VE EVER SMELLED." Still, not even the smell of the processing plant, nor her filthy compatriots is enough to mar her appreciation for the reunion.
Breaking more old, comfortable habits still, she actually resists the urge to rag on Yung for once. As Mick pulls themselves aboard, Mouse meets their suggestion with a lazy shrug, as though to mask the pang of defensive impulse. "UNSAVORY AS HIS METHODS MAY BE, THAT GENTLEMAN PIRATE GOT US OUR RIDE." She nonetheless lowers her tone, adding, "WE'LL JUST WAIT UNTIL HIS ASLEEP, THEN FLOAT HIS MATRESS OUT TO SEA. "Y’know, good ol' harmless fun.
Instead, she breaks with her old habits, emerging from her hotsim comforts to venture topside. She cracks a wide grin and leans over the rail, watching the silhouettes of her teammates grow larger and more defined. "THAT HAS GOT TO BE THE SECOND WORST THING I'VE EVER SMELLED." Still, not even the smell of the processing plant, nor her filthy compatriots is enough to mar her appreciation for the reunion.
Breaking more old, comfortable habits still, she actually resists the urge to rag on Yung for once. As Mick pulls themselves aboard, Mouse meets their suggestion with a lazy shrug, as though to mask the pang of defensive impulse. "UNSAVORY AS HIS METHODS MAY BE, THAT GENTLEMAN PIRATE GOT US OUR RIDE." She nonetheless lowers her tone, adding, "WE'LL JUST WAIT UNTIL HIS ASLEEP, THEN FLOAT HIS MATRESS OUT TO SEA. "Y’know, good ol' harmless fun.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
The Imperatore is large enough that it can comfortably fit the entire team with elbow room to spare. Achak hauls himself out of the water, beads of seawater clinging to his broad chest. As out of place as any member of the team looks aboard the luxury-craft, the Amerind is perhaps the worst offender. He eyes a throw pillow with distrust and boots it out of the way. "A fine choice," he says as he leans over the taffrail and offers Axel his hand.
This secluded, rocky inlet may as well be a different planet compared to Seattle. Even the treatment plant's existence doesn't bespoil the idyllic quality of the experience, hidden as it is behind the abutment. For a few moments, everyone wears a smile. In the immediate here and now, there are no Megacorporations, no explosions and no blood. Hell, even the sky is clear of smog. The value of this ephemeral phenomenon seems to be shared by all present, communicated by a form of telepathy native to those who are intimately familiar with hardship.
A plump Stratus cloud drifts in front of the molten disc of the sun, summoning long shadows across the beach. The stolen yacht rocks lazily in the tide. Achak sighs, his fingers straying unconsciously to the DSEC-D slung across his shoulder. It's not hard to see that there's a part of the man that yearns to spend his days on a beach like this one, but some greater force drives belies that desire.
"Let's find out what Volkov is up to," he says.
This secluded, rocky inlet may as well be a different planet compared to Seattle. Even the treatment plant's existence doesn't bespoil the idyllic quality of the experience, hidden as it is behind the abutment. For a few moments, everyone wears a smile. In the immediate here and now, there are no Megacorporations, no explosions and no blood. Hell, even the sky is clear of smog. The value of this ephemeral phenomenon seems to be shared by all present, communicated by a form of telepathy native to those who are intimately familiar with hardship.
A plump Stratus cloud drifts in front of the molten disc of the sun, summoning long shadows across the beach. The stolen yacht rocks lazily in the tide. Achak sighs, his fingers straying unconsciously to the DSEC-D slung across his shoulder. It's not hard to see that there's a part of the man that yearns to spend his days on a beach like this one, but some greater force drives belies that desire.
"Let's find out what Volkov is up to," he says.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Yung's expression remains impenetrable behind his saucer shades. Staring off towards the Western horizon he either doesn't hear the comments, or simply doesn't care. He find a comfortable place to sit, propping his feet up in a laid back relaxed pose. "Too easy, hope you guys didn't have a hard time of it."
He laces his fingers behind his head, drifting his vision towards the unusual blue sky. "Y'all think there might be a stealth tag or some trackers we should check for?"
He laces his fingers behind his head, drifting his vision towards the unusual blue sky. "Y'all think there might be a stealth tag or some trackers we should check for?"
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
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Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Axel wanders through the boat, tracking foul-smelling sludge as he goes. Walking into the main cabin, he beelines it toward the wet bar. He pours a poorly-made cocktail, then starts searching the cabinets, anxiety welling up until he finds what he was looking for. He places the little umbrella in the glass, and makes out the door to the fore deck. He passes Mouse on the way, and raises the glass as he passes. "Thanks for not performing surgery on me back when I was a boat," he says cheerfully as he passes by.
Once on the foredeck, he finds a chaise lounge already set up, facing the bow. He sets the drink down on the little table next to it, and after a moment, gives an approving nod. A suitable rigger cocoon. He sets his grime-covered gear on the deck next to the lounge, and settles in. The world goes dark, and then light again, and he's pushing through the water, the waves lapping at his sides. He opens a channel to the craft's PA system.
<< Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Klepto Sea Voyages. Today we will be sailing down the coast of Free Cal, en route to our final destination just off the coast of sunny San Diego. The weather there is hot, with a high probability of insurrection, so don't forget your sandals and IEDs. Now if I can direct your attention to the port side, we can possibly get a glimpse of what it looks like when a bunch of pastel-loving sociopaths have to deal with their own shit for the first time in their lives. >>
He signals the detonator.
Once on the foredeck, he finds a chaise lounge already set up, facing the bow. He sets the drink down on the little table next to it, and after a moment, gives an approving nod. A suitable rigger cocoon. He sets his grime-covered gear on the deck next to the lounge, and settles in. The world goes dark, and then light again, and he's pushing through the water, the waves lapping at his sides. He opens a channel to the craft's PA system.
<< Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Klepto Sea Voyages. Today we will be sailing down the coast of Free Cal, en route to our final destination just off the coast of sunny San Diego. The weather there is hot, with a high probability of insurrection, so don't forget your sandals and IEDs. Now if I can direct your attention to the port side, we can possibly get a glimpse of what it looks like when a bunch of pastel-loving sociopaths have to deal with their own shit for the first time in their lives. >>
He signals the detonator.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Unknown to Axel is the fact that there were roughly two thousand cubic meters of methane trapped within the bowels of the waste treatment plant-- methane, that if exposed to a high enough temperature, would exponentially increase the force and radius of any explosion. Also unknown to Axel is the important fact that the plant's gas venting system had been inoperable for the past six weeks and that the contractor assigned to fix the issue was, at that moment, floating face down in a swimming pool; dead from a cram overdose. These tiny pieces of providence contribute to what follows.
In the first moment after Axel triggers the detonator, the concrete abutment seems to bulge, as though it were made of rubber. In the next, massive fissures appear. Finally, smoke backlit by a fireball blossoms out of the facility like a hellacious flower. The abutment is reduced to a million whirling, jagged chunks that seek the sky. The blossom collapses inwards, forming a mushroom shape. Detritus is suspended in a full sphere; a perverse starchart. Gravity then reasserts itself and the rubble begins to plummet. A bizarre reverse wave rapidly approaches the vessel from the shore.
The deck vibrates as the shockwave reaches the yacht, staggering the runners and assaulting their eardrums with a sternum rattling blast. Tiny particles pepper against the hull in staccato. And then the rain-- dear god, the rain-- begins, odorous and strangely solid. Drops of sizzling waste pelt the canopy and deck. A stray chunk of concrete lands precariously close to the ship, creating an enormous splash. The team seeks cover from the rain of sewage, all eyes on the spectacle on shore.
As the smoke begins to clear, it becomes obvious that the treatment plant has been utterly destroyed. The abutment is reduced to a horribly disfigured ree-bar skeleton, with only small pieces of charred concrete clinging to it. A massive crater has formed beyond, from which a distinctly colored steam rises to mingle with the smoke. All of the factory buildings are gone, as if they had never been built. The outflow is clogged with debris, and now the remaining outpour seeps over the rocks.
In the first moment after Axel triggers the detonator, the concrete abutment seems to bulge, as though it were made of rubber. In the next, massive fissures appear. Finally, smoke backlit by a fireball blossoms out of the facility like a hellacious flower. The abutment is reduced to a million whirling, jagged chunks that seek the sky. The blossom collapses inwards, forming a mushroom shape. Detritus is suspended in a full sphere; a perverse starchart. Gravity then reasserts itself and the rubble begins to plummet. A bizarre reverse wave rapidly approaches the vessel from the shore.
The deck vibrates as the shockwave reaches the yacht, staggering the runners and assaulting their eardrums with a sternum rattling blast. Tiny particles pepper against the hull in staccato. And then the rain-- dear god, the rain-- begins, odorous and strangely solid. Drops of sizzling waste pelt the canopy and deck. A stray chunk of concrete lands precariously close to the ship, creating an enormous splash. The team seeks cover from the rain of sewage, all eyes on the spectacle on shore.
As the smoke begins to clear, it becomes obvious that the treatment plant has been utterly destroyed. The abutment is reduced to a horribly disfigured ree-bar skeleton, with only small pieces of charred concrete clinging to it. A massive crater has formed beyond, from which a distinctly colored steam rises to mingle with the smoke. All of the factory buildings are gone, as if they had never been built. The outflow is clogged with debris, and now the remaining outpour seeps over the rocks.
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
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Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
If Axel could blink, he would have several times by now. A thump, a vibration, and then a stinging pelting of human waste and concrete consume his senses.
<< Ow, ow, ow, >> comes from the speakers of the boat, followed by a pause, and then, << Ta-daa! >> He clenches the appropriate "muscle group", and the boat rocks back under renewed acceleration.
<< Ow, ow, ow, >> comes from the speakers of the boat, followed by a pause, and then, << Ta-daa! >> He clenches the appropriate "muscle group", and the boat rocks back under renewed acceleration.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
"IT’S BEAUTIFUL~"
Standing fully on her toes, Mouse leans her entire torso over the port-side railing of the ship to fully witness the once-in-a-life eruption of Mount Poosuvius. Eyes wide and camera rolling, her wild grin only broadens as halcyon coastline erupts into a grotesque fountainhead of shrapnel and raw sewage, elevating the away team’s prank into a Category 9 ass-disaster. "IT’S LIKE IF THE GREAT GHOST DANCE SUMMONED THE SPIRIT OF TUBGI-"
That thought is cut abruptly, mercifully short as a fist-sized meteor of molten fatberg comes barreling toward the decker’s head, forcing her to stumble backward to avoid the most humiliating concussion imaginable. She stumbles her way along the disconcertingly-slick deck, only to be jolted by the motion of the poonami, sending her into a baseball slide under the canopy. Even in her most graceless of landings, her snickering doesn’t let up, her first impulse being to crane her head to better see the trails of foul smoke emerging from the wreckage. "I'D SAY OUR JOB HERE'S DONE. WE CAN ALL GO HOME NOW."
Standing fully on her toes, Mouse leans her entire torso over the port-side railing of the ship to fully witness the once-in-a-life eruption of Mount Poosuvius. Eyes wide and camera rolling, her wild grin only broadens as halcyon coastline erupts into a grotesque fountainhead of shrapnel and raw sewage, elevating the away team’s prank into a Category 9 ass-disaster. "IT’S LIKE IF THE GREAT GHOST DANCE SUMMONED THE SPIRIT OF TUBGI-"
That thought is cut abruptly, mercifully short as a fist-sized meteor of molten fatberg comes barreling toward the decker’s head, forcing her to stumble backward to avoid the most humiliating concussion imaginable. She stumbles her way along the disconcertingly-slick deck, only to be jolted by the motion of the poonami, sending her into a baseball slide under the canopy. Even in her most graceless of landings, her snickering doesn’t let up, her first impulse being to crane her head to better see the trails of foul smoke emerging from the wreckage. "I'D SAY OUR JOB HERE'S DONE. WE CAN ALL GO HOME NOW."
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
The next morning, the team awakes amid violent rocking. Bloated, angry clouds crowd the sky. A howling wind rages in from the West, transforming the surface of the ocean into a tapis of white caps that surges and billows. Waters already troubled by a degrading climate are made fiercer still by the emergence of a hurricane. Axel is grateful for the acrylic bubble that protects him from the explosions of sea spray while he focuses his attention on keeping the ship on course.
They are very close to the DMZ now, evidenced by the flickering of the ship's electrical systems. There's also the background count: a phenomena felt by the awakened team members in the familiar form of pins and needles against their skin. Somewhere beyond the horizon lies Aztlan, a fact that inspires a foreboding atmosphere. Achak clings to the taffrail, his eyes squinted against the onslaught of inclement weather. As the ship's sensors are acting up, the Amerind has taken it upon himself to establish visual contact with the derelict ship.
Rain begins to fall in a diagonal slant, pelting the canopy stretching over mid-ship and drenching those that venture beyond. Hairs stand on end as static builds from the atmospheric pressure. The deck shifts and groans, as if the whole structure was being tossed about on hydraulics.
Achak turns to the others, his shout barely audible amid the din of the storm. "Do you see it? We should be able to see it by now."
They are very close to the DMZ now, evidenced by the flickering of the ship's electrical systems. There's also the background count: a phenomena felt by the awakened team members in the familiar form of pins and needles against their skin. Somewhere beyond the horizon lies Aztlan, a fact that inspires a foreboding atmosphere. Achak clings to the taffrail, his eyes squinted against the onslaught of inclement weather. As the ship's sensors are acting up, the Amerind has taken it upon himself to establish visual contact with the derelict ship.
Rain begins to fall in a diagonal slant, pelting the canopy stretching over mid-ship and drenching those that venture beyond. Hairs stand on end as static builds from the atmospheric pressure. The deck shifts and groans, as if the whole structure was being tossed about on hydraulics.
Achak turns to the others, his shout barely audible amid the din of the storm. "Do you see it? We should be able to see it by now."
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Mouse, in her thoroughly mundane experience, is not immune to the nervous energy coursing through the atmosphere. In her case, the pervasive sense of static is more literal- her electronic lifeline to the outside world utterly trashed from the one-two punch of being at sea in the middle of a fragging storm. Even so, she peers out from under the hardtop, torn between dual impulses to seek out the best signal she can manage, and not being completely blown away.
Prompted by the team’s de facto guide, she squints out towards the horizon, obscured behind curtains of heavy rain, before deciding that no, in fact, she can’t see shit. "ARE YOU DREKHEADS TELLING ME THAT NOBODY THOUGHT TO CHECK THE WEATHER ON OUR WAY HERE?" While her volume is set to max, she mirrors her words through comms text, forming a sort of digital subtitles for anyone who may have an easier time parsing them in writing, (or who may, at this time, be a boat.)
She folds her arms, more an instinctive huddle for warmth and defense rather than from any annoyed impulse. "OR DO YOU THINK SOMEONE'S TRYING TO KEEP US OUT? "Desperate to draw on some semblance of expertise, she gives a hard, questioning look between the more magically inclined members of the party (which, in this instance, consists of everyone besides herself and the aforementioned boat).
Prompted by the team’s de facto guide, she squints out towards the horizon, obscured behind curtains of heavy rain, before deciding that no, in fact, she can’t see shit. "ARE YOU DREKHEADS TELLING ME THAT NOBODY THOUGHT TO CHECK THE WEATHER ON OUR WAY HERE?" While her volume is set to max, she mirrors her words through comms text, forming a sort of digital subtitles for anyone who may have an easier time parsing them in writing, (or who may, at this time, be a boat.)
She folds her arms, more an instinctive huddle for warmth and defense rather than from any annoyed impulse. "OR DO YOU THINK SOMEONE'S TRYING TO KEEP US OUT? "Desperate to draw on some semblance of expertise, she gives a hard, questioning look between the more magically inclined members of the party (which, in this instance, consists of everyone besides herself and the aforementioned boat).
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Achak turns to Mouse. Rainwater courses down his face and his long black hair whips around in the gale. "It could be, but I don't see any signs of a spell. It may take someone with keener eyes to spot the ship."
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
The decker’s gaze clings to the darkened sky, as though lost in anticipation, before Achak’s answer reaches her. "OCCAM'S RAZOR, THEN. GOT IT…" Her voice trails off, leaving her barely audible over the howling winds.
Forcing herself to internalize his answer, she wipes her glasses against her shirt to once again focus on the distant horizon, this time relying on her visual software to highlight any abnormality beyond the churning waves.
(( I assume she's not the only one looking, but perception? ))
Forcing herself to internalize his answer, she wipes her glasses against her shirt to once again focus on the distant horizon, this time relying on her visual software to highlight any abnormality beyond the churning waves.
(( I assume she's not the only one looking, but perception? ))
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Dice
Yung leans against the taffrail, grimacing against nature's assault. His eyes are drawn to a cloud which, to him, resembles a wolf. As he muses idly on this coincidence, something just underneath the cloud catches his eye. He wipes rain from his face and looks again. Even though the sea surges around them, this small black smudge remains stationary. The more he looks, the surer he is.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Yung strains his eyes against the conditions, focusing on the small black smudge, "Enhance..." he says, under his breath; cracking a brief smile at his attempt at a joke. He mentally traces a small ARO box around the object, sending the overlay out on the teams PAN. << I think there's something there, and while my shades are tits, I don't have image magnification. >>
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
"YOU HEARD THE MAN. SAIL US CLOSER. I WANT TO HIT IT WITH OUR-" Mouse pauses mid-thought, even her comm 'subtitles' ending on a cliffhanger. "HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BOARD THAT THING ANYWAY?"
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
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Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Axel grabs the ARO and overlays it on the boat's sensors. He pushes and the boat burbles and churns the water as it slowly makes its way toward the mystery smudge. << I think it's just the right weather to board a ghost ship, don't you? >>
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Dice
Axel feels the violent tug of undersea currents as he wills the vessel forward. He can sense the massive pressure against the hull, as if his own body were inside a trash compactor. Large, frothing waves loom in front of him, threatening to capsize his sleek body. But Axel's reflexes are razor sharp, honed on many a midnight joy-ride conducted at break-neck speed. He jukes at the base of the wave and rides the roll to the crest. For a moment the Imperatore is airborne, before splashing back down into the tumultuous sea. Axel continues this strategy, strafing the towering swells until finally he passes to inner edge of the hurricane.
The storm still blows, assailing the team with wind and rain, but the sea is manageable. For now. The eye of the hurricane is in sight: a sort of swirling abyss in the bulging mass of dark clouds. Taking advantage of the momentary respite, Axel sails the ship closer. The freighter is now plainly visible, no more than fifty meters away.
Preacher's images pale in comparison to the real deal. The derelict freighter seems much larger and more imposing in the flesh. For all the majesty, however, the ship seems dead. There's no movement on the deck and no light shines from within the many portholes. Barnacles can be seen collecting on the lower hull, near the waterline. Seeing such a large ship devoid of any sign of life instills a primal unease-- a sense of dread that's almost as palpable as the storm that rages around it.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
"OOH, YOU GONNA PLAY JET-PACK AGAIN? "The decker’s eyes light up at the premise of once again getting to watch some wiz magic tricks, though Achak’s more pragmatic question does give her pause.
"THAT DEPENDS. DID ANY OF US LEARN OUR LESSON AFTER LAST TIME?"Her attention bounces between her fellow party members, who were hopefully more responsible than she had been when it came to packing. "IN MY DEFENSE, I HAD A REALLY GOOD EXCUSE NOT TO."
"THAT DEPENDS. DID ANY OF US LEARN OUR LESSON AFTER LAST TIME?"Her attention bounces between her fellow party members, who were hopefully more responsible than she had been when it came to packing. "IN MY DEFENSE, I HAD A REALLY GOOD EXCUSE NOT TO."
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Axel feathers the throttle as he eases the ridiculous pleasure yacht up next to the behemoth of an industrial ship.
<< Bonus points if we can steal this one! >> He comms out through the boat's intercom. << Oh, and yeah, check my bag. It's next to my meat-suit. Got a hundred meters in there. No hook, though. If we can fashion one, I can get one of the girls to fly it up. >>
<< Bonus points if we can steal this one! >> He comms out through the boat's intercom. << Oh, and yeah, check my bag. It's next to my meat-suit. Got a hundred meters in there. No hook, though. If we can fashion one, I can get one of the girls to fly it up. >>
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Achak glances sidelong at Mouse. "The thought had crossed my mind to cross to the deck with the rope and find a place to secure it." He raises his head and stares at the sky. Both ships are now squarely in the eye of the hurricane, bathed in a halo of muted daylight. All the while, a ring of dark clouds crowd out the meager opening. "We shouldn't give up the element of surprise, though," says Achak as he steps inside the cabin.
The Amerind returns with Axel's rope coiled around his shoulder. One end of the rope passes through the eye of a gleaming grappling mechanism. He peers at each member of the team in turn, ending his quick appraisal with his gaze on Mick. Achak lifts the rope off of his shoulder and it extends it to them. "If anyone has a chance of throwing this over the gunwale, I'd say it's you. "
The only sounds are the creaking of the hull, the splashing of waves, and the patter of drizzle against the deck.
The Amerind returns with Axel's rope coiled around his shoulder. One end of the rope passes through the eye of a gleaming grappling mechanism. He peers at each member of the team in turn, ending his quick appraisal with his gaze on Mick. Achak lifts the rope off of his shoulder and it extends it to them. "If anyone has a chance of throwing this over the gunwale, I'd say it's you. "
The only sounds are the creaking of the hull, the splashing of waves, and the patter of drizzle against the deck.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
The cigarette dangling from Mick's lips perks up as the ork takes a drag, squinting at the rope and grappling as they reach out to take the assembly from the Amerind. The adept takes the rope into their left hand, leaving the grapple in their right to feel its weight. They give it a few twirls on the rope, letting out additional inches of line as they do. The adept cranes their vision skyward, casting their gaze sliding up the side of the derelict vessel. A dual jet of smoke exhausts from the ork's nose as they spit the cigarette over the railing and into the inaptly named, heaving Pacific.
"Alright, let mount us a fuckin' ghost ship."
Mick winds up the grappling end of the climbing assembly, building it to as much momentum as they can manage, and releases it skyward toward the deck of the freighter rocking impassively amidst the waves.
"Alright, let mount us a fuckin' ghost ship."
Mick winds up the grappling end of the climbing assembly, building it to as much momentum as they can manage, and releases it skyward toward the deck of the freighter rocking impassively amidst the waves.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Dice
Achak runs his fingertips over his bracelet. "Who is going first? I can provide them some camouflage with a spell."
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Mick shrugs and says, "Still me, omae." With that, the ork begins shimmying up the rope.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Having spent a few moments searching for something within one of the interior pockets of the Synergist Longcoat, Yung eventually gives up with a shrug as the rope finds purchase on the edge of the ship. He clicks his tongue at Mick’s response to Achack’s inquiry. "You really gotta ask?" He says with a smirk at the Amerind.
Shifting his attention to the decker and rigger he opens an inquiry, "Any chance you two can pick up any signals or networks or that kinda drek around here? Also, this beauty happen to be equipped with any kind of sonar or whatnot? If I were a betting man, I’d say there’s something going on underneath this behemoth." He offers with a shrug.
Shifting his attention to the decker and rigger he opens an inquiry, "Any chance you two can pick up any signals or networks or that kinda drek around here? Also, this beauty happen to be equipped with any kind of sonar or whatnot? If I were a betting man, I’d say there’s something going on underneath this behemoth." He offers with a shrug.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Yung's inquiry catches the decker off guard, dragging her attention back to the earth from the swirling, distant clouds. "GOOD CALL. PROBABLY SHOULD MAKE SURE BOARDING PARTY ISN'T GREETED WITH A HAIL OF AUTOMATED SENTRY FIRE. " Arms folded, she leans her back against the frame of the companionway, if only to appreciate her last fleeting moment of prep time before she's inevitably expected to join her teammates aboard the floating deathtrap. "THIS WILL BE A GOOD CHANCE TO TEST OUT MY NEW OVERWATCH PROTOCOLS. JUST TRY NOT TO GET SHOT TO SHIT WHILE I'M SETTING UP."
She steals one last glance skyward as her eyes roll back, consciousness slipping inward.
Mouse blinks back into the waking world, having missed only mere moments in this existence, but her expression uncharacteristically worn: a mix of regrets and world-weariness more befitting the absent Taipan than her usual self. She lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, as if to stave off an oncoming headache. "WHELP, GOOD LUCK US."
In the most fleeting moment of self awareness, it occurs to Mouse that perhaps she wasn't the best behavioral model for an expensive, bloated pseudo-AI.
...and maybe G.O.D. too lives in fear of what they've created.
(( Ideally, the agent should just be able to run continuous Matrix Perception checks to find/ID any local devices/silent icons, at least until commanded to do anything else. It should use the same stats as Mouse’s deck, so loadout as follows: ))
She steals one last glance skyward as her eyes roll back, consciousness slipping inward.
>>system/persecom/BOOT.AgentFinal(1)
Mouse blinks back into the waking world, having missed only mere moments in this existence, but her expression uncharacteristically worn: a mix of regrets and world-weariness more befitting the absent Taipan than her usual self. She lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, as if to stave off an oncoming headache. "WHELP, GOOD LUCK US."
In the most fleeting moment of self awareness, it occurs to Mouse that perhaps she wasn't the best behavioral model for an expensive, bloated pseudo-AI.
...and maybe G.O.D. too lives in fear of what they've created.
(( Ideally, the agent should just be able to run continuous Matrix Perception checks to find/ID any local devices/silent icons, at least until commanded to do anything else. It should use the same stats as Mouse’s deck, so loadout as follows: ))
Loadout
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Dice
Mick wraps the rope around their fist a few times and then leaps on to the taffrail. They take one last glance at the gunwale to confirm that the grapple is secure before swinging, like a pirate, towards the freighter. At the last second before impact against the hull, Mick extends their toes and uses their core strength to absorb the inertia, arching their back to reduce any noise. Once they've fully arrested the momentum of the swing, Mick eases down so that both boot soles are pressed against the hull. Then, step by step Mick walks up the side of the freighter, using their superior upper body strength to ascend.
Mouse's matrix scan returns quickly. Too quickly. It seems to the decker that the freighter's hull must be out-fitted with some kind of signal-blocking capability. While stealth tech on an industrial freighter seems far-fetched, there's no other explanation. The decker is confident that once inside the ship, such defenses will be rendered useless. No other devices or networks are visible, but whether they're completely absent or just unpowered it's impossible to say. Still-- stealth tech would require a power source. Mouse decides such a conundrum requires further investigation.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Mick makes the top of the ascent, throwing an arm over the gunwale's guardrail and hoisting themself over the side with easy, delicate grace. Perched there a moment, the ork scans the deck of the vessel, one more shimmering ghost to add to the ship.
(( Perception, looking for security trappings / a better vantage. ))
(( Perception, looking for security trappings / a better vantage. ))
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
"SURPRISING NO ONE, THIS THING’S A FLOATING BLACK BOX." It’s almost like the container ship is exactly what one would expect from a floating vault of secrets. Mouse rolls her shoulders back and squints upward at the behemoth. "IF THEY DID PUT SENTRIES UP TOP, THEY’D HAVE TO BE HARD WIRED." AKA: nothing she can do anything about from where she’s standing, in answer to Yung’s question.
"-OR THEY LEFT IT EMPTY. MAKES IT MORE MYSTERIOUS." She wiggles her fingers in facetious emphasis, even if she’s not entirely joking. Any overt surveillance or defenses outside the norm would only out the ship as housing something important. Her mind does twist briefly over the matter of a power supply, resulting in the curious instance of her mumbling through her synths- "MAYBE TRY THERMALS? ULTRASOUND? ONCE WE’RE ON BOARD, ANYWAY… "
Speaking of- << Please tell me they’ve got some kind of ladder up there. Or better yet, something for hoisting up cargo. >>
"-OR THEY LEFT IT EMPTY. MAKES IT MORE MYSTERIOUS." She wiggles her fingers in facetious emphasis, even if she’s not entirely joking. Any overt surveillance or defenses outside the norm would only out the ship as housing something important. Her mind does twist briefly over the matter of a power supply, resulting in the curious instance of her mumbling through her synths- "MAYBE TRY THERMALS? ULTRASOUND? ONCE WE’RE ON BOARD, ANYWAY… "
Speaking of- << Please tell me they’ve got some kind of ladder up there. Or better yet, something for hoisting up cargo. >>
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Dice
The freighter is tiered, like a wedding cake. From Mick's position, they can make out the cooling towers at either end of the freighter, a large crane near the aftdeck, some kind of elevator platform at the foredeck, and of course the cabin. The first tier appears to be about four meters high, with portholes placed at regular intervals. Above that, another level. Closer to the fore-deck must be the control cabin, which stretches at least twenty meters high. Antennae and various communications dishes are just barely visible atop the highest point.
The deck itself is deserted. There are no signs of security cameras or security measures. The portholes are dark. Seeing such a large ship devoid of a crew instills a weird primal unease in the adept. The only movement is that of the rainwater that drips from the tiered structure down to the deck and a few hanging cables on the crane that sway lazily in the wind. Due to the breadth of the cabin, Mick is only able to see the port side deck.
During Mick's methodical examination, they discover a retractable rescue ladder affixed to the gunwale. The tech is ancient, consisting of a spring loaded cantilever, steel lever and crank.
The horizon flashes violet as tongues of lightning dance between the oncoming storm clouds. A crack of thunder follows shortly, bellowing forebodingly across the flat acoustics of the vessel.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Mick peers back over the side of the vessel, their companions' faces a row of glowing buttons staring up at them, and gives a thumbs up. The ork gently lowers themself from their perch on the railing before triggering the retractable ladder for the rest of their compatriots.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
The lever is a bit rusty, but Mick's strength prevails. With the cantilever free, the ladder flips to the seaside of the gunwale with such force that Mick draws back reflexively. Gravity takes over and the crank spins as the assembly drops segment by segment, until the bottom of the ladder reaches just above the surface of the ocean. A puff of particulate wafts off of the whole mechanism, scattering flakes of rust to the hurricane winds.
Axel delicately eases the Imperatore closer to the freighter until the two ships are roughly a meter apart. Any closer and the two vessels might collide amid the rolling swells. There's a loud splash as the rigger drops anchor. Achak takes the opportunity to fasten the rope to a cleat on the starboard cabin, fashioning a safety tether should the anchor drag. After doing so he glances at the sky and says "We should hurry."
Overhead, the eye of the hurricane is rapidly passing over the freighter. The storm foreshadows its furry with increasing thunder claps and an onslaught of violent wind.
Axel delicately eases the Imperatore closer to the freighter until the two ships are roughly a meter apart. Any closer and the two vessels might collide amid the rolling swells. There's a loud splash as the rigger drops anchor. Achak takes the opportunity to fasten the rope to a cleat on the starboard cabin, fashioning a safety tether should the anchor drag. After doing so he glances at the sky and says "We should hurry."
Overhead, the eye of the hurricane is rapidly passing over the freighter. The storm foreshadows its furry with increasing thunder claps and an onslaught of violent wind.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Yung removes his glasses, finally giving up on the futile effort of wiping droplets of water off the lenses. He stows them carefully in the breast pocket of his coat before closing his eyes and shaking his head from side to side. Droplets of water fly from the ends of his dreadlocks, "This weather, eh? Can't believe I wore my nice clothes for this drek." He flashes a smile to the rest of the team, as if to say 'you expect anything different?'
As the ladder comes rushing down he moves toward the edge of the Imperatore closest to the freighter, balancing carefully at the edge of the smaller boat. He laces his fingers together, fanning his hands outward to crack his knuckles. Then without warning he jumps from the edge of the ship, clearly wide left of the rescue ladder. He positions his hands and feet in front of him, to brace for contact with the slick side of the freighter. Upon making contact with the sheer surface he simply floats, stuck in place on the side of the ship about a foot wide of the ladder. He twists his head around to the rest of the crew on the Imperatore, sticking out his tongue like a child.
A moment later he removes the hand closest to the ladder, twisting his torso slightly back toward the boat in a gesture of offering, "anyone want a hand?" He says, with a wink.
(( Using Hang Time to stick to the side ;) ))
As the ladder comes rushing down he moves toward the edge of the Imperatore closest to the freighter, balancing carefully at the edge of the smaller boat. He laces his fingers together, fanning his hands outward to crack his knuckles. Then without warning he jumps from the edge of the ship, clearly wide left of the rescue ladder. He positions his hands and feet in front of him, to brace for contact with the slick side of the freighter. Upon making contact with the sheer surface he simply floats, stuck in place on the side of the ship about a foot wide of the ladder. He twists his head around to the rest of the crew on the Imperatore, sticking out his tongue like a child.
A moment later he removes the hand closest to the ladder, twisting his torso slightly back toward the boat in a gesture of offering, "anyone want a hand?" He says, with a wink.
(( Using Hang Time to stick to the side ;) ))
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
"DUNNO- THINK YOU’VE SHOWN OFF ENOUGH?" It’s not like Mouse really minds the show, as evident from the smile peeking around the corners of her lips. Any playful grumbling is mere obligation. After all, she certainly can’t let Yung’s head get any bigger than it already is.
Still, her eyes bob between the extended hand and the waves stirring below the jump, confirming that the cost of screwing this up isn’t worth her pride. "JUST DON’T LET ME FALL." She swallows hard, giving her shoes a futile wipe against the slick surface of the deck as she calculates her trajectory, before launching herself toward the ladder.
Still, her eyes bob between the extended hand and the waves stirring below the jump, confirming that the cost of screwing this up isn’t worth her pride. "JUST DON’T LET ME FALL." She swallows hard, giving her shoes a futile wipe against the slick surface of the deck as she calculates her trajectory, before launching herself toward the ladder.
Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
The enormous clamor of the emergency ladder hangs in the air for only the briefest of moments before being swallowed up by the storm. Stealing another look over the side, the adept notes their gathering teammates. Looks like Yung is doing something ridiculous again, which the ork would never admit to themself offers an odd pang of relief– sky above, hell below, Yung being a dweeb– all things in their rightful place.
Mick turns their attention back to the empty deck of the derelict freighter. The wind howls across it, whipping rain into the ork's face. Moving to the nearest dark porthole, Mick cups their hands around their periphery to block out the light from the bruised sky and attempts to peer in through the aching darkness.
Mick turns their attention back to the empty deck of the derelict freighter. The wind howls across it, whipping rain into the ork's face. Moving to the nearest dark porthole, Mick cups their hands around their periphery to block out the light from the bruised sky and attempts to peer in through the aching darkness.
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Drew Buddy
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Re: Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale
Axel sets the floating perfume bottle to "stationkeeping" mode, and ducks out, emerging back in his flesh on the chaise lounge on the foredeck. He spends a few moments stretching and limbering up his disused limbs in the pelting rain.
There's a bang to his left and he turns his head in time to see a cascade of light debris shaking off of a ladder. He glances up, and throws a thankful wave to Mick. He pats down his pockets, and once confident that he hasn't left anything behind, makes his way over to the ladder, and prepares to leap across.
"Hey Mouse," he says conversationally to the decker who clearly does not have the spare bandwidth to be talking to him, "Did you pick up a little helper after the last job? Team's gonna have quite the mangerie by the time this is all over."
There's a bang to his left and he turns his head in time to see a cascade of light debris shaking off of a ladder. He glances up, and throws a thankful wave to Mick. He pats down his pockets, and once confident that he hasn't left anything behind, makes his way over to the ladder, and prepares to leap across.
"Hey Mouse," he says conversationally to the decker who clearly does not have the spare bandwidth to be talking to him, "Did you pick up a little helper after the last job? Team's gonna have quite the mangerie by the time this is all over."