Spaceships, Sixguns, and... 'sura...?

Steerpike · December 14, 2011, 04:37:03 PM

[ic=Background]Marie-Anne "Flayer" Kalma

Half Ghoul by birth, Marie-Anne Kalma grew up with her (human) father in the gloomy wilderness of Achlys, a frontier world of dank forests, gloomy mountains, shadowy badlands, and murky fens. Here she learned to shoot, stalk, and trap, hunting feral Ghasts and the six-legged elk-like beasts common on the steppes where she was raised. By twelve she was able to take down a charging Gnoph-keh using her father's old Barghest 97 laser-rifle at well over 400 yards; to strip a Zoog of fur and eviscerate it in under a minute; to sneak up on a herd of wild Vortlups without startling them. Her father taught her to always say thanks to Nodens, Elder God of the hunt, after a kill; to track a creature by its spoor; to find shelter in a storm. Far from civilization, her childhood was free of the prejudice that afflicts most Ghouls and other quasi-humans. Making their home in a small cabin in the hills far from Nova Stygia and the other cities of Achlys, Marie-Anne and her father led a simple but contented life.

Everything changed when the Xothic League launched their incursion, annexing Achlys and setting up their garrisons. Sovereigntist rebels took shelter in the hills and woods around their home, and sometimes Marie-Anne's father would give them spare meat or firewood or directions. The Leaguers came in the middle of the night, kicked down the door and subdued her father with a hastily muttered spell from their magus-officer. Their interrogation was brutal: they needed to know everything her father could tell them about the rebels: their location, numbers, equipment, etcetera. Some of their torture-methods were mundane, others more exotic. When they were finished her father's body and mind were both in tatters, though he'd held on to the Sovereigntists' secrets, refused to tell the Leaguers anything. Marrie-Anne had watched from a hiding place under the stairs, having promised her father not to interfere. When they were finished they shot him in the head and set the cabin on fire.

She fled the burning wreckage with her father's Barghest 97 clutched in her grasp and her trusty skinning knife in her belt. The Leaguers were mounted, but Marrie-Anne knew all the shortcuts and secret ways, could stalk them swiftly and silently. When they came to the pass that led up towards their mountain-fortress, she was waiting with rifle in hand, crouched high on a crag, well-concealed. Five shots, in quick succession, took care of the lot. She left the empty skins of the Leaguers hanging from tree-branches for other Xothic troops to find and fed the fleshless bodies to the local fauna as a sacrifice to Nodens. Shortly later she joined a group of rebels. In a few months she found herself in the Sovereigntist Ranger Training Program, having achieved record-breaking scores on stealth, survival, and sniping assessments. Some time after that she transferred to Special Ops. Since then Marie-Anne has seen action on a dozen worlds, killed dozens of Xothic officers, taken part in a number of key covert assaults, and provided invaluable reconnaissance for Sovereigntist troops. Her penchant for skinning her victims earned her the nickname "Flayer," a moniker she silently accepted.

Physically Marie-Anne Kalma is rather unremarkable, her Ghoul blood noticeable only on close inspection: pronounced canine teeth, red irises, pointed ears, greyish skin, claw-like nails, a very slight whiff of something like an open grave. She is now eighteen years old. Wiry in musculature, she keeps her head shaved and typically wears some form of camouflage – or, failing that, a Special Operations Sovereigntist uniform.

[spoiler=Stats]Power: 4, Grace: 6, Vitality: 5, Senses: 7, Mind: 5
Hit Points: 5, Mind Points: 5, Stunt Points: 5
Consequence MV: 2/4/6
Skills: Stealth +3, Firearms +3, Alertness +2, Survival Knowledge +2, Resilience +2, Athletics +1, Martial Arts +1
Advantages: Advantages: Skill Linkage [Animal Instincts], Specialization [Martial Arts: Knives]
Principles:
-   Xothic Leaguers are a pack of rabid dogs
-   Leaves the skins behind
-   Nose like a bloodhound
-   "Praise be to Nodens for this bounty. Y'hah."[/spoiler][/ic]

LD · December 14, 2011, 07:14:46 PM

I can do this Friday at the times I indicated and potentially slightly earlier depending on traffic. I can also do Monday before the Gloria game, which is set for 7PM EST.

sparkletwist · December 14, 2011, 07:21:36 PM

I'm pretty biased towards Monday. It gives me a little more prep time and I'd much like to have both Xathan and LD there, because you're both so much fun. :grin:
So, since you both can manage Monday, let's go for earlier on Monday.

I can clear my calendar for Monday, so I'm good with any time of the day. Preferably in the early afternoon, but sometimes LD can't make it in early. So, LD, when's the earliest you could make it?

LD · December 14, 2011, 07:31:53 PM

Well Monday I could make it as early as 4:45PM EST- maybe 30 minutes sooner than that (4:15EST probably at the earliest)- but I can't say for certain. As I should have expected- a work commitment came up. (It's for the best that the Gloria game moved back later. :o).

As I read Xathan's message though, he indicated he couldn't make *next* Friday; he didn't say anything about this Friday (he may have just thought you were talking about next week...)?

Go ahead and run it early monday if you need to. I know I'm difficult to schedule. :-|

sparkletwist · December 14, 2011, 07:58:43 PM

Oh, the fun of scheduling IRC games. :huh:

Ok, we go at 3PM EST on Monday the 19th.
LD, you're welcome to join in whenever you can.

Xathan · December 14, 2011, 07:59:41 PM

Quote from: Light Dragon
As I read Xathan's message though, he indicated he couldn't make *next* Friday; he didn't say anything about this Friday (he may have just thought you were talking about next week...)?

Sorry, should have written that better - this friday (day after tomorrow) is the one I can't make. :\

LD · December 14, 2011, 11:54:05 PM

Ok. Thanks for the clarity- I'll drop in when I can! :) If someone else wants the Doctor, I'll take whoever's left or craft up someone new (though I'd appreciate a heads-up on that).

sparkletwist · December 15, 2011, 03:22:50 PM

[ic=New character]Sgt. Xer W'ton
Xer W'ton is a full-blooded Deep One, resembling something like a cross between a fish and a frog, and quite an imposing one at that. He stands well over six feet tall, with a form that possesses both significant bulk as well as significant muscle. He is gruff and rude, and his gurgling, croaking manner of speech seems to only emphasize his frequently antisocial demeanor. He is nearly always ready with a curse word or ten, be it in English, R'lyehian, or some other tongue. He usually wears a shabby uniform, and his helmet, which barely fits his bulbous head, resembles an old-style stahlhelm as opposed to the current issue of the Sovereigntist Alliance.

However, what makes him in demand is not his social skills (which is fortunate, considering how he lacks them) but rather his significant combat prowess. He first caught Major Hahn's attention when he led a daring ambush on the Xoth in the swamps outside of New Arkham, wiping out two entire squads of Xoth aberrations before taking out their obscenemancer commanders. Since that time, Sgt. W'ton has led several other bold strikes at the League, and proven himself worthy of membership on any elite combat team. He is a good shot with nearly any firearm, but is particularly fond of his high-power Suwei Series 77 quantum metaplasma rifle. His melee combat expertise is no less impressive. Additionally, he has a small degree of control over the element of water, through ancient Deep One rituals passed down through the cults of Father Dagon and Mother Hydra; he does believe, albeit not as fervently as some of his kind. When using this power, his croaking voice takes on an otherworldly resonance, and a revolting smell of rotting fish seems to permeate wherever he is.

He is always armed with a waterproofed Suwei Series 77 quantum metaplasma rifle, possessing superior hitting power and accuracy but a slower rate of fire than conventional metaplasma coils. Should enemies be unfortunate enough to find themselves close enough to him that the clean, quick death of being shot dead by him is not an option, he prefers to cut them down with his hand weapon, resembling a corroded, jagged, serrated scimitar. It seems to be some sort of centuries-old Deep One relic, and is apparently a prized possession of his.
[spoiler=Stats]Power: 7, Grace: 3, Vitality: 7, Senses: 5, Mind: 4
Hit Points: 7, Mind Points: 7, Stunt Points: 5
Consequence MV: 2/4/6
Power: Deep One Water Magic (+1)
Skills: Firearms (+4), Alertness (+3), Melee (+2), Supernatural (+1), Acrobatics (+1), Athletics (+1), Tactics (+1), Brawling (+1)
Advantages: Deep One Physiology, Specialization [Firearms: Quantum metaplasma rifles]
Principles:
- Rarely backs away from a fight
- Protects his prized blade
- "Honor Father Dagon and Mother Hydra."
- "Tact is for people too weak to say what they mean."
[/spoiler]
[/ic]

SabrWolf · December 15, 2011, 03:40:58 PM

Holy crap do I want to play Xer W'ton! ... stupid work! maybe I'll just quit. I've been meaning to do that after all. (not calling dibs on this as I won't be able to play this coming session)

Ghostman · December 16, 2011, 09:32:35 AM

Since the game appears to be scheduled for a time I should be able to handle, I'd like to join in. I'll have to look into the system over the weekend...

sparkletwist · December 17, 2011, 02:45:54 PM

That reminds me, I should probably post a bit of a primer to the system.

Ghostman, any character preference at the moment? If you were interested in the Doctor, you could probably take him, because Light Dragon is going to be quite late.

I'll post one more new character shortly, as well...

sparkletwist · December 17, 2011, 04:26:43 PM

[ic=New character]Ndembu
Over fifty thousand years ago, before the dawn of time, Ndembu was a warrior and hunter on the plains of Africa. He was a strong, confident young man, who always aspired to more than the primeval, nomadic existence his place in history seemed to destine for him. It was his aspirations that led him far beyond the ancestral home of his tribe, and out into the great wilds of the south, where he saw things no man had ever seen, or perhaps was ever meant to see. He emerged in the lands of the so-called "great-headed brown people," a civilization of humanoids of great technological acumen, thanks to their absorption of many Atlantean and Yith secrets. They initially welcomed him, but, when one of their greatest generals was pulled back in time by the Yith, the strange newcomer was blamed for the mysterious events, and Ndembu was captured and sentenced to eternal imprisonment. He was kept in a semi-conscious, dreamlike state, basically unaware of the passage of time yet not entirely unaware of it, either. His prison, buried underground in one of the many cataclysms that befell the Earth, continued to operate long after the civilization that had incarcerated him had been destroyed. Finally, during the First Battle of Sol, it was broken open, and Ndembu emerged, bewildered, into a much-changed world.

Wandering about, he was promptly captured by Sovereigntist forces operating in the area. He was completely out of place in this new world, yet, he was also a man of astute intellect, and possessing interesting perspectives on a wide variety of ancient and modern problems. Fifty thousand years of thought allowed him to independently derive many of the fruits of civilization, and he proved to have a keen philosophical and mathematical mind. He learned to speak the modern language, albeit haltingly, and he still carefully enunciates every word. He is a generally cheerful man and a quick study, having mastered many fundamentals of modern technology and engineering. However, popular culture generally eludes him, and he is quick to anger when he believes himself to be the butt of a joke. On the other hand, he loves to tell stories of hunting on the great plains or of his time with the now long-extinct great-headed brown people.

With nowhere else to go, and the heart of a warrior still strong within him, he joined the Special Operations Council. He is an expert at hand-to-hand combat, but also has submitted somewhat to modern ways, frequently using a Bugbear Model 3X metaplasma carbine.
[spoiler=Stats]Power: 6, Grace: 5, Vitality: 5, Senses: 5, Mind: 6
Hit Points: 5, Mind Points: 5, Stunt Points: 5
Consequence MV: 2/4/6
Skills: Brawling (+4), Athletics (+3), Engineering (+2), Rapport (+2), Firearms (+2), Alertness (+1), Ancient Knowledge (+1), Supernatural (+1)
Advantages: Combat Poise 1, Nonperson
Principles:
- Honor and glory is the way of the warrior
- Quick to anger, but also quick to forgive
- "This is a strange new world, but my destiny here is greater than it could ever be as a nomad on the plains."
[/spoiler][/ic]

Weave · December 18, 2011, 06:23:00 PM

I'm game for trying Ndembu. I might think of some other facets to him, with sparkletwist's permission.

Looking forward to the game :).

Steerpike · December 18, 2011, 08:44:33 PM

Ndembu feels like he might have come from Mytholith :P.

Looking forward to this very much!

sparkletwist · December 19, 2011, 03:01:14 PM

[ic=The Mission Begins]The Demoiselle d'Ys nears the edge of the Arcturus system. The gas giant Swati, outermost planet of Arcturus, looms large; muted reds and greys mingle in perpetually swirling maelstroms and tumultuous vortices. The huge proto-star seems to glow with its own light, but, shining beyond it, faint vestiges of the mad expanse that is Fomalhaut also come into sight. Like some kind of hell-spawned nebula, its tendrils extend out into the aether, the resting place of the dread Cthugha lighting up the sky with orange, yellow, green, and white, as well as every other hue of the rainbow in lesser proportions. Initially, this horrifically beautiful visage is all that can be seen, but eventually, a small black silhouette becomes evident in front of the gas giant.

As the Demoiselle draws closer, more detail can be seen, the small black shape expanding into an imposing monolith in its own right; it is a huge extruded hexagon of pure ebon black, ringed with conduits the color of black carapace and spires of a slightly glossier tone. The entire thing looks like a sort of twisted parody of a tulip. At the top, the command center stands proudly, a geodesic dome of blackened glass, ringed by coilgun turrets. Indeed, as the Demoiselle flies closer still, it can be seen that the entire exterior of the station is covered in various defensive systems, and, if it were operational and manned, the ship would have been cut apart in less than a minute. Fortunately, however, it is clearly not manned, and it is barely operational. There are windows along its exterior, but they peer only into blackness as dark as the station's exterior. Only a faint blue glow of two small conduits circling its upper portion reveals that it retains any function whatsoever. As impressive as this spectacle is, the way the bottom of the station dissolves into scaffold and jagged corrugated metal reveals that it was not yet complete at the time it was abandoned.

"Throdding hell," Major Hahn grumbles as he glances out a window. "I don't like the looks of that ebumna-n'ghft Xothic space station. Not one bit. You don't build something like that and then just abandon it unless something seriously n'gha h'geb happened."

The ship circles the station, inspecting its exterior, taking note of its design. "Six docking bays, one on each side, but it looks like only one of them is actually functional," the Demoiselle's pilot says, glancing from scanner to window, flying the small craft deftly around the behemoth. Upon finding a suitable docking port, the Demoiselle maneuvers into position, aligning with the docking port with a dull thud. "Docking is confirmed. No main power or gravity, but at least Cthugha kept it nice and warm in there for you. I'm reading an atmosphere on the other side, but most life support systems are down. It's a big enough station you'd have to stay in there for weeks to use up all the oxygen, though."

"Nobody's planning on staying there for nearly that long. We're gonna recon it, and then we're gonna get the throd out of there," Hahn says. "You know the mission. Secure the station, and see if it can be made operational. Right now it's caught in Swati's gravity well, and it'll fall in unless it can thruster itself out. The point of no return is in twelve hours. Main power, life support, and of course maneuvering thrusters are our priorities. All that firepower would sure be nice to have on our side, defending Arcturus." Hahn continues, "If it's just completely unsalvageable, or if.." He pauses. "if some kind of shit happens. Then we're going to resort to plan B." He pauses. "We'll just let nature take its course. But let's hope it doesn't come to that." He stands up. "Meet me at the airlock in five."[/ic]

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Spaceships, Sixguns, and... 'sura...?

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Weave

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