((And the GM said "Let there was much handing out of RP XP" and it was good. Or something like that.))
It was just another day here and little attention was payed to the rumble of engines. Gangs were common and traveling in groups was common sense. The mechanics on break let a stray eye flick to the road which was getting the first wavers of head distortion from the midday sun. One or two noticed that a turret on one of the bigger rigs was turning as they came around the bend. That and the flash from the barrel. The heavy shell flew through the air and smashed into the mechanic's shop, killing a few lucky ones quickly. Rubble fell in and crushed the arms or legs of a few others. Three runners up front revved the engines and sped off toward the diner, shattering the glass door as the leapt the curb and leaving black, smoking marks on the yellowed tile as they skidded to a stop. With cocky smiles, each of them produced a weapon or two, The big muscly one waving about a minigun. It looked a bit odd but it was hard to tell with just a glance as to what it was. A leaner one had two minor machineguns that he was training on each person as he looked around. He had a faded red bandanna over his sun bleached hair, the color that most everything goes after a few years in the desert. The third was rather average in build but had a look in his eye that said he was hoping for some serious excitement like a junkie wating for his next fix. He seemed to have a full armload of genades strapped to him and his rifle danced about with the same itch as his trigger finger.
"Now, Thou need not speak nor dost ye find need of locomotion." The lean one proclaimed in a dry, gravely voice. "Thine arms are best left down. We shall claim the recorces we have need of and leave. But the hand of The Olde Machinae shall guide mine rounds swiftly if any who would resist arise. All griefs shall be repaied tenfold upon all who resist and upon every member present here. Ye who will attempt it shall have those souls weigh upon their own."
With a snearing face, the lean one then nodded to someone behind him and a rig smashed through the front of the diner as several men jumped out of it and began smashing about for foodstuffs and trinkets. One thing that they seemed to have in common was that those who had a lacking right sleave, there was a black tatoo of the face of the sun as depicted in the middle ages. The odd thing was, the rays of the sun seemed more like the teeth of a gear. Interesting, that.
((Each of you take 50 XP aaaaaaand....
What will you do? Map will be up later.. just declaire actions for now as this is just really close combat anyway...))
((Wow... Not entirely fair since we seem to have automatically failed our initiative rolls but damn, great post dude! Although we are most likely going to be left with less then we even started with... somehow I doubt these guys just wish to order a burger and fries))
Brux blinks a few times before finally remembering to swallow the bite of burger still in his mouth. He lowers the arm which he had thrown up in a reflex to cover his face from flying shards of glass. The adrenaline in his veins was urging him to grab his gun but his limbs felt all numb and a voice in his mind was telling him not to. So he just sits there, burger in one hand, the other placed back on the tables edge, a sweat of fear breaking on his forehead and his back. _________________ Be gone, Wreckage of the Pits Depraved, My Rig shallt not be stopped!
((Sorry but there is a reason why it seems so unfair... Pardon that.. And I rolled the initiatives for you.. Pardon that as well. The reason being, it would really have been a bit of a waste to just state to roll initiatives and post them with the parenthases... Trying to do you all a favor. Or something.. Perhaps we should use the looking for players area to discuss the OOG things. In fact..(remainder of apology/explenation in said area.))) _________________ "[42= The number of socks the universe is processing at any given time]" -wingrae
Gunter watches the man with the minigun, or more accurately, the weapon itself. What a fascinating bit of machinery, so much more efficient than the pistols in his bag. He'd never seen one this close before. He's probably staring again. _________________ A single dagger in the night is worth a thousand swords at dawn.
Grab some tugboats. We're going iceberg wrangling. - Destro Yersul
As he watches the man from the Black Hand, James slowly puts his hands in his lap. Much easier to access the holstered combat pistols incase something went horribly wrong. _________________ ITEM OF THE [TIME PERIOD]
With attention focused on scanning the room, the man with the bandanna didn't catch the words right off. That and the noise of several people looting the storehouses, the running noise of the rig, the clatters and murmers of scared people... He didn't get much of that message to his ears. However... The minigun man and the not so gregarous grenadier were both close enough to take notice. The grenade was held more loosely and the muzzle of the gun tilted more to the floor. It wasn't that they particularly heeded the words but they did seem to be listening. Though, that wouldn't do more than distract them for a short time. They were on a mission for their own survival after all. "Oh, Thou seems to be mistaken, oh Gear among the Cogs. Wish not for violence do we but duties to our closest bretheren is first like the links of a chain. We beseach thee to reclaim thoust resting place and to keep thy tonge from tickling our ears." The burly man said with an oddly calm, deep voice. "It is no ill respect but care for thoust Life's Oil as the great Friction would soon overtake thee should it spill."
The lack of threataning movements by anyone served to do little other than just allow continued existance as per the word of the raiders.
The observation of the minigun showed that it was currently more than a little worn. Apparently, it was hard to properly clean and oil it while upon the sandy wastelands. That and what looked like a shard of glass was stuck inbetween two bullets quite close to the feed belt's opening. That would likely wreck havoc on the machine should it catch upon that. All in all.. It was in less than optimum shape but it seemed like it still had a little life left in it... Assuming that it wasn't properly cared for soon.
If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would like all role play to be in the upper text with the rolls for the actions and to repeat the actual actions in spoilers just incase I misunderstand what it is you are trying to say in the RP area up top. Just so it wouldn't clutter up a post or anything... As an example:
Bandanna Bandit: Oversaw the 'hostages' Full round action
Minigun Man: Heard the words of Phillip and replied with "Siddown an Shaddap if ya know whats good for ya." as a free action. Took no actions this round.
Grungy Grenadier: I think he scratched his nose and got a bit bored with the lack of violence... Full round action?
_________________ "[42= The number of socks the universe is processing at any given time]" -wingrae
"I press thee forgive mine intrusion, but it be looking like theine gunner has wracked his holy blade. There be glass jammed in between the leadreck and sand in thine barrelgear. Suck lack of respect for machinery such marvellous as a holy sword is intolerable. Death and destruction among wielder and bystander alike it shalt wreack if not taken propperly care of. Shalt thou allow me to cares thine holy sword? It shalt not be longer then a minute or two to prevent it from being blown to smitherines at its next crusade."
Brux puts his burger down and carefully and slowly opens his backpack to reveal a first class repair kit in order to explain his intentions.
speak as free action, open backpack as a move.
_________________ Be gone, Wreckage of the Pits Depraved, My Rig shallt not be stopped!
Gunter tilts his head and tries to get a good look at Brux's toolkit. It seemed to be a nice one, not as nice as his own, though. Would the thug let Brux fix it? Did Brux even know what he was doing? He's probably a good mechanic, even knew the scriptures. It would be really neat to see the minigun up close too. Or maybe one of the grenades? Those were brutally efficient weapons. Just look at the destruction a few of them had caused. Such tiny packages...
He turned to look out the broken windows at the carnage outside, appreciating the demoliton, and not giving a single thought to the people caught in it.
Hope to see the minigun up close, admire the destruction, look around for anything else of interest.
The burly man looked down and spotted the glass wedged into the feed line. "Thanks to thee for the notification." he said as he pulled the glass out. "But touch this weapon thee shalt not. I need not be looking down the shaft of mine own blade. But there are some machines that are better left to the histories. This is but a tool of death. Such tools should be buried in the sands we found them in." And with that, he resumed his more ready position. The other two had walked their bikes over and were motioning to a few of the other rouges. One of them was carrying a very heavy looking box and set it down on the counter. The bustling activity was quite distracting. Besides, who would try to threatan a group of thugs with rather powerful looking firearms? Thusly, no secretive movement was noticed.
As for what is seen outside, about half a dozen tatooed men were going to one vehicle to the next as they stripped what parts they could. A few were hotwireing the newer looking models. That and quite a bit of fire and broken glass... _________________ "[42= The number of socks the universe is processing at any given time]" -wingrae
Well, the box isn't open per say.. So all that is seen is that it is a really nice looking box... That has wires coming out of it.. along with what looks like an antenna poking out of the top... and several other things such as a keyboard and a power cable. Perhaps a radio device of some sort? It was just sitting there now though, seemingly not being bothered with.
And while it is possible to aim under a table at a hand, when not looking down the line of sight, it's just a little more difficult... But not horribly impossible.
The Genadier walked his bike over to an older couple on the other side of the room and heckled them a bit. Nothing horribly unusual.
Well.. Unusual for him at least. _________________ "[42= The number of socks the universe is processing at any given time]" -wingrae
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