[FURY] Lighthouse Assault (August 3.1, Dog 3.2, Valentine 3.1)

edited August 2015 in Fury
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August,

photo Lighthouse_zpsfqy4fb3a.png

It feels good when the crew lowers the platform and you power the bike up. A whistle of appreciation from Glover as the h-bike whirrs to life and blood-red spray shivers up around your ankles. This time you’re well protected.

You know how the suit works now. It’s canvas and rubber, but they apply this coating which saturates and dries flexible in the sun on deck. It’s temporary, lasts a few months at best then they have to do it all again. Yours is squeaky and still pretty fresh. Moving around in the thing isn’t fun. But the joints are loosening up the more you wear it and at least you’ll be able to fight.

OOC: The suit also acts as 1-armor. Hi-tec. Worth a bit of jingle to the right buyer, too.

---

You pull away from the ship and leave Portar, Glover, Cutter, and the rest behind in the inky darkness to prepare for their attack. There’s the faintest hint of dawn in the Eastern sky as you arc across the water towards the faint lights at the old West Point Lighthouse. Place is remote enough that the raiders there aren’t bothering to cover their traces too well. Lucky for you. Not lucky for them.

Going through with this, August? Who knows if the Arrows got your message… or if Watauga is laying face-down dead somewhere outside Safeco. Turn the other way and you can be home in under an hour.

What do you do?

Comments

  • edited August 2015
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    I will stay the course. But I haven't decided what I'm going to do when I get there. Are these folks Tax Patrol or otherwise? Innocents don't deserve to die at Portar's hands, but who is truly innocent?

    The bike's familiar whirr is soothes me, along with the soft whisking sound that the red water is making from being displaced by the anti-gravvers. The darkness is a sproud, but comforting. Night air in my lungs. My finger traces the sign of the Medicai cross between the handlebars, just for good luck. I try not to look at the place where Drumma should be, either on her perch or just over my head in my peripheral vision. I miss the sound of her cry.

    Dog is coming.

    She must be. If she isn't, then I don't know what I'll do. I can leave Portar behind me in a second, but what will he destroy in his rage? I can't risk it. It is too ugly to be true.

    Dog is coming.

    My body shivers, an ache running from my brain to my spine. I've been lying with Portar, yes, but I can scarce think of a less comforting embrace. I find myself trying to think of the last person who'd just held me. Who'd just been there.

    My Valentine.

    And then I'm singing in the dark, to the red sea:

    "So, will you never be my lover or my Valentine?
    Never be a friend of mine, never see my better side
    Baby, you'd be terrified
    Of all the secrets you were wishing you won't ever find
    Is deep inside me
    And I don't wanna hide me
    "

    Single tear dripping down my cheek, salt in my mouth.

    "'Cause I know about my love..."
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    Lost. To bring Valentine onto my bike. Marking xp. One away from advancing.
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 8)
  • edited August 2015
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    August,
    Your song radiates out across the quiet blood sea, your voice sounding strange through the filters of your mask, but still your voice is true and strong.

    Dog is out there, right? Did she get your message? Understand your meaning? She could be on the way right now, to meet the raiding party, perhaps, or being Dog, maybe she's riding straight for you somehow... maybe.

    But your mind calls out to Valentine. Your song calls to her. It's hard to imagine a more out of place person than Valentine here off the bloody wet shore. She might get her pretty shoes dirty, or soil her favorite hat.

    The bike hums between your thighs and you see the dark outlines of dead trees and broken shorline stretch out South from the dimly lit lighthouse. Somewhere down there is SafeCo, Dog... Valentine.

    You feel yourself drawn to a place on the dark shore. Like a moth must feel to a flame... it's just a little out of your way, right? Maybe, somehow.. she will be there. It's impossible, right? But impossible things happen.

    What do you do?
  • edited August 2015
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    Valentine,

    Suddenly darkness.

    All around a deep unexplained darkness of night. For a moment it's like the lights went out at SafeCo... but the hard floor is suddenly gone and beneath your feet is soft, rough and slightly crunchy like a crust.

    Weren't you just on your way to see...

    The smell hits you hard. The red... blood red sea stretches out black and alien before you and a musty wind against your skin and a dank breeze through your clothes.

    Out there in the dark is the slightest sound, a hint of motion. Dark on dark and you hear a quiet, weird song like an echo on the wind:

    "So, will you never be my lover or my Valentine?
    Never be a friend of mine, never see my better side
    Baby, you'd be terrified
    Of all the secrets you were wishing you won't ever find
    Is deep inside me
    And I don't wanna hide me"


    Could it be? August.

    She's out there. Coming to you.

    But where the flood are you and how did you get here? Weren't you just... home?

    What do you do?
  • photo Valentine_zpssjfm5cvh.jpg

    "What the flood?"

    The sea startles me with its nearness, dark red and hungry. The wind is cold and it nips at my flesh and bones, like it's trying to seep into my pores. I half-stumble-scamper away from the soft susurrus of the eager waves. I think of the Harbor, of the thing that ate the Harbormaster's boat, and I get further from the shore.

    I look around, looking for shelter, for light. What's here? Where am I? I'm out in the open. I'm not dressed much for outside, much less rain, and I'm barely armed. There's a blade in my hand already. Red skies, I'm not even wearing decent boots. I spit, a black look crossing my brow, No matter how many smiles I keep folded away, anger and fear always look the same.

    But I hear a song. "Could it be...?" I take my hand away from my nose, the knuckle pressed against my lip hard enough to give my teeth a twinge. I must keep my hat fixed on its fundament. What's going on?
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    When I called to Valentine, it was the way a body calls out to an embrace that they remember fondly. I'm still alone in the darkness, cutting across cold red but -- there. That spot. I readjust my lines. No one behind me will notice -- something inside of me adjusts itself. Have I already left them behind? I'm not sure.

    When I get closer, I see the familiar curve of that hat, and zir wicked blade gleaming dully in the darkness. My heart unclenches. I rev engine, just enough that zie can't mistake the sound of an h-bike, then I'm at the shore, pulling up alongside Valentine. Gravstand on, bike still running, I'm off the bike, mask pushed away from my face and pulling zir into my arms.

    "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

    I stretch the moment as long as I can, then put zir at arm's length. "Why are you here?" I half-laugh. But then I sober, remember the lighthouse. "Flood. We have to go. Before they see you. The ones who blew up the harbor."
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    Valentine & August,

    You can just see the lighthouse to the right, a mile or two up the curving coastline on a little prominent point of rock. It's a black silhouette on the dull horizon, a few dim, distant lamplights burn on and around the structure.

    You wouldn't really notice it, except of course it's on August's mind.

    The ship is out there somewhere, August. Making a wide angle to get in position for the tenders to take the assault crew to shore. You know the ship itself is heavily armed, with long guns, with fire.

    Valentine, you know August is wearing this heavy suit. Bulky and loosely fit enough that you can't see much of her within. It feels rough and strange as she hugs you, but that's August, no doubt.

    What do you do?
  • photo Valentine_zpssjfm5cvh.jpg

    "August?" I can't hardly believe it, but she smells like her and feels like her and sounds like the delight that she is. I kiss her cheek reflexively as I'm drawn into her strange-feeling arms, a nonetheless welcome relief from the wind. A circle half-twist of my wrist and the knife disappears, my fingers empty."Lambkin, what's going on?" I take a triple take. "And what are you wearing?" I pluck at it, feeling.

    It splits through my brain that it's not a what. She says who. "Who? Who blew up the Harbor?" I turn to the h-bike, already ready to ride bitch. The thought makes a small quirk at the corner of my lips, but I slide it away.
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    Bloody flood, I love the way zir hand moves when zie holds a knife. It's like poetry.

    I start to think of how to explain the suit, how to explain how zie got her -- what is going on with me -- but I just sigh in frustration of where to start. Then zie asks about the Harbor.

    I gesture vaguely behind me. "Same scabbing sort of fools as we have on land, but on the bloody sea. They might as well all be redsick though, either barmy or kill-hungry. I won the Captain over,," I say, quick moment of direct eye contact, the go on, "Bought us a little time, but they are planning on burning SafeCo next."

    "I sent a messenger for Dog, but I'm not sure if she's coming." That comes out more vulnerable-sounding and heart-ache-ful than I intend. "I woulda just left but these scabs have to be ended, they have too much fire power. Nothing is safe til they're dead. All of them.." I think of Glover. "Maybe almost all of 'em."

    I hop back on the bike. "We gotta ride though. They're about to raid that lighthouse. I'm meant to flank it; was gonna scope out whoever's inside and either get ready to drop them for real or try and get them to run before trouble shows up."
  • photo Valentine_zpssjfm5cvh.jpg

    "Burn SafeCo? Like as the Harbor went? Red night," I swear, "It's rebar and concrete, mighty. Can they even do that?" Strange how quickly I accept the notion of fool-scabs from the sea. But if August says, then it must be sooth. I ease a leg over the h-bike and try a halfhearted snuggle, somewhat not as gracious in the suit she's wearing, but 'tis a kind of a comfort.

    I look out at the horizon, the dark night and the dark sea, putting together everything August is telling me. "I'm with you, August, but my own august personage is somewhat less equipped for assault at the moment." I poke a boot at the trunk-saddlebag things. "Do you have binocs, or an umbrella even?" A quick glance at the sky, consulting the weather.
  • edited August 2015
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    I can't help it. I'm riding into big trouble, trouble ten times lightning in a handbasket, and I'm still smirking and scooting my behind into Val like someone who doesn't know better. Sometimes what feels good feels good no matter what the stakes are. Plus me and zir are easy like that, skins free and no-stress between each other. Not like that, that -- although that one night I would have -- more just friendly, no pressure. Good.

    Good. Ain't enough of that in the world.

    "If you ask me for an extra knife," I say, voice wry,"I got one buried in my locs. But otherwise I don't have jack but for an an engine, a friend, and a prayer on the wind heading right for Dog. I hope that's enough for you."

    Then I cutting across red again, bloody sea spraying up on me and Val's ankles.

    "Real grateful you're here, Val," I say, but ze might not even hear me over the buzz of the h-bike.

    In the stretch of sea between us and the lighthouse, I sing another verse.

    Looking for trouble on the shore. Looking for where Cutter and his crew is coming in.
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    Reading the sitch.
    (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 5, 2. Total: 7)
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    Which enemy is the biggest threat?
  • photo Valentine_zpssjfm5cvh.jpg

    I know why August can drive men mad. Especially with that hip action. Would she wish me a man or a woman? No matter, we are cohorts and confidants, and that is enough for me. Although she mentioned the knife in her locs and that's also enough to keep me from burying my face against her neck. I'm sure she gets enough of that gendered attention, so I won't.

    "Knives I have aplenty, my friend." I snuggle a bit, the speed is exciting to me. "I'm gladt you reached out for me, Aug... Even if I think losing my mind a little."

    Thinking of SeaTac, I ask, "How many are they?"
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    "Just six of them, plus an engineer to pilot their small craft. The engineer is worth saving, if we can. Called Glover. She's an alright sort." I shrug against Val. "I think so anyway."

    "The big one is called Cutter. He's the first one I'd like to end."
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    Valentine & August,
    Sorry to leave you hanging so long. Wasn't sure if your conversation is ongoing. Will move forward and you can talk more, or not.

    The morning light grows as you talk and at least now you can start to see, even though you remain in shadow from the dead trees and overgrowth shadowing the beach.

    So hey, you've got Valentine her and she's unprotected from the red. Riding that bike across the water would be pretty risky if you try to do it together. What's the plan here, August? Follow the beach? Head inland?

    Not exactly sure what sitch you're reading here on the beach with Valentine, August. Are you headed closer to the lighthouse?
  • edited August 2015
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    There's a trace of a frown as we ride and I hang on, my face pressed into a cloth as a meager protection from the red. It would be abysmal to fall. I watch the landscape rush by, mud and muck and red, untouched by the bike save for its h-wake.

    I wasn't planning to help end six lives this morning, but does one ever? "What did Cutter do to you?" I'm not challenging; I trust her reasons are sound, but I can't help wanting to know them.
  • edited August 2015
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    August
    The biggest threat to you is the ship and it's crew. You catch glimpses of the lighthouse and it's not like crawling with troops or something. More like some scavengers setting up a camp for a few days while they raid a rich find. So if you're thinking of the future of SafeCo. You don't want to let the ship disappear into the sea again fully armed and feeling free to encroach on land. Take +1 forward to attacking the ship's crew.

    Valentine & August,

    You ride quietly up the coast towards the lighthouse. The sound of the bloody surf on shore covers any sound you may make, and the dim light from the impellers is likely invisible through the mist.

    Ahead is the lighthouse, jutting out on a prominence of rock and dirt, flaked ashore to the right by some abandoned industrial plant which is little more than a husk at this point.

    The ship is out there somewhere, by now the tenders have landed and the landing party is sneaking towards the lighthouse from the North side, where the rocks and cliffs are high enough to shelter them from sight. The attack will begin soon... Not sure what their treasure could be here in this place... what could be so interesting to the captain, too?

    Suddenly there's an echoing book from somewhere ashore. A dull hollow echo of an explosion somewhere distant. You don't see anything from the lighthouse... it must be somewhere ashore.

    Kind of smells like Dog.

    What do you do?
  • edited August 2015
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    It's hard to understand tone in this sort of situation, but I'm silent for a moment, trying to decide if Valentine is thinking ill of me. "He's one of those that threatened my freedom. And worse, he wishes death on those who would succor me.." I shrug again. "That is enough for me." Sometimes I forget that Val is not an Arrow.

    I stare at the shore.

    "I don't know that the ones occupying the lighthouse are a threat. Will you join me when I try to convince them to flee or should I leave you somewhere safe?"

    When the explosion sounds, I look skyward and silently thank that fool Watauga. I refuse to believe that it is not Dog, moving ever forward.
  • photo Valentine_zpssjfm5cvh.jpg

    I use my fingers and thumb to rub at her elbow, near to wear I'm holding dry. "Sounds like he threatens me, too, my boon companion." I discard three perfectly good puns on "succor," knowing this might not be the best time to try them.

    "It's my delight to lend my pipes to your cause. Take me." But I cock an eyebrow. "Do you think there's any chance those in the lighthouse might also rally under your banner? Two plus anything is better than two on six."

    The explosion startles me, I look sharp, my arm jerks reflexively for a knife. Little good a blade would do against a boom. "What the flood...?" I mutter. "Is that they?"
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    August & Valentine

    You shoot across the water towards the lighthouse and it's rocky shore. There's flattish places here and there where you can make land, but there's really not a way to ride up there without going some distance around. Best way up is to stash the bike on the beach and climb up the rocks to the building.

    As you near, you see the dimly lit building, the sun's on the other side from your location and you're in deep shadow. Thankfully everyone's attention seems to be towards that noise, so you can slip onto the beach easily without being seen.

    You see one guy up on the roof with a long gun cradled in the crook of his arm, shading his eyes with his other hand. His hair is braided into a long tail reaching the small of his back. Another couple of shapes up in the modest lighthouse tower.

    They don't look like Tax Patrol. Not sure if they look nice, though.

    What do you do?
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    "Nothing's ever easy," I say under my breath. To Valentine, I ask: "Get his attention from here and sweet talk him, or get in closer and check them out more?"
  • photo Valentine_zpssjfm5cvh.jpg

    I lean in close to match whispers. "The enemy of your enemy is your friend, ne c'est pas? If you want them fighting on our side, best to be up front about it." The bike is firm and sturdy beneath me, a buoy of safety despite its bobbing.
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    When we get to the shore, I secure the h-bike on a steady outcropping and help Valentine off -- zie doesn't actually need the help, but sometimes I like to treat zir like a lady. Makes me feel gallant.

    "Fine. But if this goes wrong, be ready to cut some rotters, okay?"

    Then, when we're close enough, I step away from Val and call out to the fellow with the sniper spot. "Hail, stranger. Below you. 'Ware the coast -- raiders are coming. They mean to murder you all. Do you need our aid to fend them off?"
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    Valentine & August,

    As you make it to shore, call up to the sniper, you try to warn him of your impending attack. He draws his rifle up and starts to fire on you, too spooked to think straight. He wasn't even looking your way, August.

    What do you do?
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    I curse and drop back into whatever cover Val and I were using, then hand zir one of my throwing knives. "In case you need a spare. I'll try and end this fellow. But either way, let's take the chance to get closer and out of his sights.". I point towards the closest way in to the lighthouse.

    (Would love a little more description of the landscape/physicality etc)

    Then I step back out of cover, aim between the sniper's eyes and hurl my knife with a practiced flick of the wrist.
  • edited August 2015
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    Valentine & August,

    A picture says a thousand words, right?
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    There's a bunch of rocks on the incline up to the lighthouse, which is a squat thing, really, but good enough for the sea.

    If you look on the lighthouse from the water, the boat raiders came up on the left, while you came up on the right. They've charged up ahead, and the sniper should be picking them off, but he's just seen you.

    You can see him from the shore right now, but he's not in dagger-throwing range. I'll let you change action. You can definitely take cover, though. And you hear the sounds of fighting above you.

    Oh. And it sounds like h-bikes, too.

    Right before he takes a shot, the sniper starts when he (and both of you) hear Dog roar, "HEY SOAKFACE!!!"

    What do you do?
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    I know how to take a distraction when I am given one. I'm clambering up the embankment closer to the lighthouse, making sure that Val is right behind me.

    If the Arrows are close, I try to get their attention. But if they are not, or if there are other rotters down here, well. I'll be taking care of them.
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    Valentine & August,

    Let's see you Act Under Fire here. August is leading, but Valentine, you can help.

  • edited August 2015
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    I hate bringing a knife to a sniper fight. I'm staying close behind August, working to keep my head dry even as my boots are squelching. This whole flooded situation is still more than a little strange.

    I could use an espresso, I think, even as I press my back to cover, away from the sniper's gaze.
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    (Acting under fire.)
    (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 1, 4. Total: 5)

  • edited August 2015
    [Rolling help. Roll+Hx.]
    (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 2, 4. Total: 8)
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    Valentine,

    So I'm clear... did you press your back to cover, away from the sniper's gaze? Or did you try to help August just now? I see dice, so I'm thinking you helped. But how?

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    Valentine & August,

    As Valentine hugs the rocks and your back, August, you climb as quick as you can up towards the lighthouse. You feel that sniper taking aim, wait for the bullet to hit. There's a moment where you hear the BRRRAP BRRRAP of submachinegun fire, but your brain hears the shot as a sniper's bullet.

    It never comes.

    Ahead, you see the sniper pitch forward and fall from the building, landing hard on the rocks above you. More sounds of battle, screaming, pain, the whine of h-bikes. Your arms ache and sweat's pouring inside your suit, August. Valentine, this is the most intense few minutes you've had in a long, long time.

    Finally, you reach the top, right as a big figure looms over. It's Cutter, and he looks pissed. He has a cleaver in his left hand, "You rotting filth! Your sisters are here, and they shot Gamut! They think they'll save you? They're gonna get your damn corpse back, is all!" He starts coming for you, August, ignoring Valentine.

    What do you do?
  • edited August 2015
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    There's a moment, after the sniper falls, where it's as if noise of the chaos leeches away from everything and I'm just hearing the rushing sound of averted death.

    But as soon as Cutter raises his arm against me, it's like a weight is lifted. Now I can murder this rotter. The noises come back all at once. I've got knives in both hands and I'm screaming with my best imitation of that keening noise Drumma makes -- I will fall on Cutter like a hurricane.
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    August,

    We're entering single combat here, right? Let's break out the battle moves:

    When you do single combat with someone, both you and your enemy inflict and suffer harm as established. Roll+hard. On a 10+, spend 3. On a 7–9, spend 2. On a miss, spend 1. Spend them blind, on the following:
    • Strike hard. Inflict +1harm.
    • Defend yourself. Gain +1armor.
    • Seize the victory. Whichever of you spends more on this, wins the round.

    If your enemy is an NPC, the MC gets to spend 2 for her as well. The MC may choose to spend 1 or 3 instead, but must declare that she’s doing so. 1 is for an NPC weak, afraid, or lacking will; 3 is for an NPC distinguished by her bloodlust. Whichever of you wins, if the loser is still alive, the loser chooses:
    • You have me at your mercy. What do you do to me?
    • You drive me into terrified flight. Do you pursue me?
    • This is a fight to the death. We continue to another round.

    If it’s a tie, then if both of you want to end the fight, it ends, but if either of you want to fight on, it continues to another round.

    Valentine,

    You could make your way around them, if you chose. That sniper dropped his rifle around here somewhere, and there are Arrows on h-bikes on the other side of this lighthouse. Or, you know, you could try to help August fight.

    What do you do?
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    Single Combat. +2 from Perfect Instincts.
    (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 2, 4. Total: 8)
  • edited August 2015
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    Battle Hold below in white.
    Both hold spent on "Seize the Victory"
  • edited August 2015
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    "Red waters, that was close," I mutter to myself. The loud broken-air noise of the guns still echos in my ears. I can't take my eyes off the sniper as he falls- it's fast and slow-motion at the same time. I barely hear the big man's shouted words, I'm not thinking about him.

    But he raises his cleaver against sweet August, and I can't abide. She rushes in with her knives, and I realize I've got the comforting heft of my own knife in my hand, ready to find a new home in warm meat. I move like the waters are rising, following August, the glittering edge at the ready.

    I'm a devil with a blade.
  • [OOC: Rolling help. Roll+Hx.]
    (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 6, 6. Total: 14)


  • edited August 2015
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    [OOC: Battle Hold below in white.]

    [OOC: Spending battle hold on seize victory.]
  • edited August 2015
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    August and Valentine,

    August, that big suit you’re wearing kind of cramps your style. Slows you down by half a step, but it feels good to be moving on your feet on solid ground. Cutter’s wearing the same heavy thing, but he’s lived half a life fighting and working in it and it’s like second nature to him. You scream and close on Cutter with a long-due fury that takes him by surprise for a moment.

    August, you strike first, drawing a long cut across his torso as you close and duck one of Cutter’s lethal strikes, but he shoves you back with a kick and that rotting suit trips you up and you stumble, Cutter closes in to try and finish you, his cleaver aimed high!

    But Valentine, you’re not going to let that happen, right? You close in from the side and hamstring Cutter with a wicked slice which tears his calf down to the Achilles. Cutter howls in pain and with an unsteady but powerful swing of his fist he bats you aside, Valentine, right as his leg gives out on him.

    Cutter falls towards you, August, cleaver coming down hard, you raise your left hand defensively as the big man topples down upon you. The sharp edge of his blade smashes into your weapon, you feel pain through your hand as metal slices into skin and bone and tendon…

    But Valentine has him falling out of control and despite the pain, August, you’re able to jab your blade up into his belly just as Valentine whirls and thrusts home again into his side between the ribs. You twist it into his gut up to the hilt and use his weight against him.

    He falls to one side, wheezing like an injured animal… he’s still got fight in him and he’s trying to stand but that knife is stuck between his ribs and every move is agony. ”Portar’s a fool. Told… him… a whore has no loyalty.” he growls. his eyes dark and full of hate.

    August, your arm is wet with blood and for some reason you can’t hold your dagger, which clatters to your side along with two severed fingers… the mangled glove of your suit hangs uselessly from your bleeding hand.

    He’s trying to get up and fight, but he’s at your mercy. What will you do with him?

    (Cutter chose +1 Harm with both of his spends. You “win” and with his wounds and inability to move, he chooses “You have me at your mercy. What do you do to me?”)

    (August, you’ve taken 3 Harm, after the armor of your suit. All of it on your hand. You’re in pain, at 9 o’clock, and you need to make the Harm roll)
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    The injury he's given me doesn't register as more than inconvenience just yet -- I'm cursing the lack of a second knife. Without it, I have to cut out his eyes one by one. I leave his face like sightless cratered meat.

    "You're both fools," I say, and spit onto his red-ridden face. Then I stand over him, wait until he bleeds out.

    That's when it hits me. All the pain, all the adrenaline.

    I fall to my knees, surrounded by the scarlet splatter of Cutter's blood. I know Valentine is there, but I can't turn to her. Hair back, mouth to the sky, a cry that echoes in the dawn light.

    A name. A prayer. A question. "Dog?"
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    Harm roll.
    (Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 6)
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    August and Valentine,

    As August falls to her knees and calls out the name of her lover, Cutter's wheezing breath continues, labored, timed with the crash of the bloody waves on the shore beneath you.

    Valentine, you see two of August's fingers lying in the dirt at your feet. Delicately painted and manicured.

    The approaching sound of a pair of h-bikes, and in a breath, you see them. Dog and Ace, both riding hard and coming for you.

    What do you do?
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    Dog,

    When you and Ace come around the Lighthouse, you see the sharp drop to the ocean, and a small space of dirt and rocks where August is on her knees. Standing behind her is Valentine, of all people, a blade in zir hand, blood dripping. August is in pain, Dog, her hand is covered in blood, and it looks off somehow.

    At their feet is one of the boatmen, a big rotter who's been carved up and he's dying slow and hard. Somewhere behind them all you see the broken body of the sniper you shot. August's h-bike isn't up here.

    What do you do?
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    "Ah!" What sound I make pops out of me at a higher tone than people hear from me usual-like. I rev it towards them and push-jump myself off the bike, still grasping the handlebars and trotting beside it.

    I stop the bike and it drags my feet a little into the mud, makin' a weird print. Next to August, I take to my knees, and I want to say stuff like what kind of a week it's been, or how we got to move and the gang is waiting, or some other thing. "August!" I manage.

    I lean forward into her, touch foreheads, then snort in a sniffle of snot that wasn't there a second ago. "Flood me deep..." I look over at the big rotter. They killed him, just the two of them? What a story that's gonna be.

    I try to get us both up on our feet, take a look at her hand.
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    When Dog is there, I close my eyes. I'm light-headed and hurting and there is death around me, but for a moment, I am safe and numb and falling against her chest. My bad arm loose at my side, the good one still clenched around the knife that took Cutter's eyes.

    I inhale, breathing Dog in. Exhale. My buggered hand tries to make the motion that I sent to them with -- Arrow going into danger with reinforcements right behind -- but my fingers won't cooperate. I don't even look, it just hurts.

    I inhale. Exhale. Brain settles on something tangible. "More trouble coming. My bike's down there..." When I point towards the shore, that's when I really see my mangled digits. Ragged stumps. Bleeding everywhere.

    Inhale. Exhale with a curse. Then I'm standing up and pulling away from Dog and kicking Cutter's face until it doesn't deserve the name.
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    I don't reach out to August yet, while she's takin' mad on this guy. I know just the kind of cut he used on her, too, where you follow the movement of their arm down the blade and scrape fingers off the handle. It's a cut I would only use on someone bigger'n me, or someone I'd gotten orders to give a stretching to. End their career as an advocate. Rotten.

    "August! That rotter did you real dirty, and you ended him. That's good." I get closer, reach out to put a hand on her shoulder. "He won't get buried. I don't even want to know his name." I'd join her but it's too rude to touch her kill like that, and we haven't got time.

    I get her turned, facing me. "Bon's here, like you planned. Let's see her before you lose too much blood. 'Fore that trouble comes." Get her lookin' in my eyes.
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    Numbly, I pick up August's fingers. They are still warm. The nail pattern is so distractingly normal. I see the tiniest drip-drop speck of red near one tip.

    By habit, I drive my knife into the mud to clean it, then wipe it further. This one is long past kitchen use, but it still can drink deep of the red. I sheath it close to me. Why is Dog here?

    "Bon. Let's go to Bon." I daren't squeeze her fingers too tightly. I feel cold. My eyes feel heavy and their faces are going blurry. Fast blinks take care of that right quick. I take a cautious step, I can't fall. I want to be closer to August, so she can see that I'm not leaving.
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    Blood loss and pain and violence.

    I hear both Dog and Valentine, but I can't respond to them just yet. I'm caught up in my head, caught up in the patterns of the blood on the ground as the drip through the rocks of the embankment towards the red sea. Where Portar waits in his ship full of death.

    Instead of soaring upward towards that place between worlds, my brain is diving deeper. Into myself or into the earth, into the sea. I don't know. But my consciousness is breaking, filled with bloody Rorschach shapes that pitch and crest and change.
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    Opening my brain. Marking exp and taking the Followers advance.
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 1, 1. Total: 3)
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    Dog, August and Valentine,

    The fighting in the bunker seems to have died down as you don’t hear any more gunfire, just the sound of some guy crying out in sudden pain but it’s cut off. For a moment the sounds echo off the bunker walls and then quiet.

    But only for a moment.

    Maybe ten feet below you, there’s a sharp tha-boom sound as something slams into the rocks and a column of fire and smoke shoots up higher than the roof, licks of flame curl off in all directions. You stagger or fall, feel the heat on any exposed skin. Any closer and you’d probably be out cold or worse.

    Ace is thrown from her h-bike and falls with an awkward scream of shock. Valentine, you slam into the lighthouse itself. Dog, you tumble into August and both hit the ground.

    Looking out towards the ocean, you see the ship. August, you know better than they do… obscured by the sea mist you might miss it if you didn’t know it was out there. As you watch a spiraling trail of smoke lifts suddenly from the deck and invisibly flies over your head to slam into the lighthouse. Like someone took a massive unseen hammer to the place, punching through the roof as glass shatters and shingles scatter.

    Then, it explodes, throwing glass, wood and fiery plaster in a wide arc. Valentine, you’re pitched forward onto the ground, landing on your hands and knees, seeing stars. There’s fire all around, catching on the scrub, you hear screaming and confusion from the other side of the lighthouse.

    Ace screams and wails in sudden fear, climbing back up onto her bike clumsily. Someone starts shooting again.

    What do you do?

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    I'm propped up over August, elbows banged around inside my padded jacket, 'standin'' on them and my knees and toes. I shove myself halfway up, stunned, doin' battle math in my head. 3 bikes plus 4 of us, minus one bike on the shore, minus two fingers, minus one bike skill, minus our nerve, plus one towed bike equals...flood. FLOOD!

    Got that grey in the center of my vision for a breath, almost passed out. That'd be bad. I gotta work this! My nose is bloody.

    "Here's our trouble. We gotta ride." I help August up, hoping the shots are one-two, one-two and not one-two-three. We could have time. My voice is raised so I can just hear myself.

    "Valentine!" I check and see if zie needs to be stood up. "Get with Ace! Or tell me you can ride!"
  • edited August 2015
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    "We need to sink the ship," I say absently, once again against Dog's chest.

    I grab Val with my good hand. My bad hand is a bloody claw pushed past Dog and pointing towards the horizon. "We need to sink that ship."

    My legs are moving back towards my bike. No way I'm leaving it behind.
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    The Leviathan rises, speaks, and leaves destruction and misery.

    I get up, dazed, the tinny ring of battle fading from my ears, rubbing dust away. "Where's my hat?" I see it, and grab it like it's an umbrella. I scramble to my feet, away from the ruined lighthouse, going to my friends.

    I see Dog's talking, so I push my pinkies into my cute ears and wiggle them, trying to wake up my poor eardrums. "Ride?" I plot my hat, only mildly worse for surviving an explosion, back atop my head and deliver a real smile. "I run the autoduel, my darling."

    "The Leviathan has spoken. Let us now answer!" I squeeze August's hand and my heart hiccups at the sight of her bad one. I catch her eye. "May I drive?" I bury my fear. The show must go on.
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    I let go of Val's hand to start untying the h-bike keys from my hair -- in the end, I require zir assistance to remove them. "That seems wise. I should ride with Dog."

    I hand them to zir and turn back to Dog. "The engines in the hull are poorly made things. They are its weakest part. Also, there is an engineer that was coming ashore that I think might help us." I describe Glover to Dog while I fashion a makeshift bandage for my hand, extend the wrapped limb to Dog so that she can secure it.

    "Where is Watauga?" We may still have some element of surprise if he has not made it back to the boat.

    Everything hurts. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ear.
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    "Even in the midst of fear, chaos, and destruction, a body could get lost in you, your hair," I murmur while I untie the keys from August's dreads. As she fumbles to fashion a bandage, I hand Dog my dry cloth and a worn baggie. I can breathe rough so she doesn't get any red on her.

    "Forgive the depth of my ignorance, but can we get to it? Will an H-bike go over..." this sounds ridiculous... "over open water?"
  • edited August 2015
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    I nod. "That's how I got here."

    My good hand mimics the graceful skimming of a bird on water.
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    Dog, August and Valentine,

    A third explosion sounds, but this one is farther away, over the water. Your eyes are drawn out past the surf. August, you see the boat you just escaped from, fire on the deck, smoke rising up. It's turning, heading deeper out on the water, away from you.

    Somebody shot back at these rotters.

    What do you do?
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    Of course Valentine can ride. I give zir a big smile, it's good news. "August's bike will do you real good." It's one of the most stable rides in the pack, after Laika's.

    August snaps back to herself and I listen close, not just because my ears hurt inside. People don't get how she's got such nerve, like a soaking boss. I help August bandage up, padding it tight. "So if we get in the hull we can cripple the thing." I say back to her while pressing the wound. I ain't satisfied with the bandaging, but it's not awful.

    "We'll look for your engineer but they pressed when they shouldn't have and there was a fire in the bunker. Watauga's with Chance and if he goes to puddles on her he's gonna get shot open."

    I break out my breathing mask I got just for this kind of riding. As I get it around my neck, the new explosion sounds and on reflex I tense and take low, ready to get us all on the ground, but..that fire's not for us. I laugh, hard and tense and a little thick. What the flood just happened?

    "They think they can run." I feel at the point of my teeth with my tongue, saddle up and wait for August. "Valentine! I'm gonna send some people off to get help, you can be in that crew or ride after these frog's puckers, dealer's choice!"

    I wave and get Ace's attention. ::Form up!:: It's a simple order to get back to the Arrows, one a spooked heart should find comfortable.
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    I agree reluctantly when Dog is clear about the circumstances by which we can save Glover. It's not ideal, but nothing is.

    "I don't know what Watauga will do when it is clear that this has all gone to shite." A pause. "Did he bring Bon? Is she okay? I would have sent him directly to you, Dog, but I knew it would be easier to find our Medicai."
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    Dog, August and Valentine,

    Ace takes off around the burning lighthouse, leaving you behind.

    A minute later, you're heaving a car engine, coming your way. Valentine, you spot SeaTac in the driver's seat.
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    "Bon's here, and you were smart to point him at her. She was riding Soundy's bike here and got her legs burnt in a scuffle with Tax Patrol but she's okay besides that." I tilt my head at the hitched sadness that is Soundy's bike right now.

    The engine buzzes into my world and I rev up. Just one engine, probably not Tax Patrol.
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    Dog, August and Valentine,

    SeaTac heads over to the Arrows pack and starts chatting with Bon. If you want to join that thread, please go here.
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    I toss a two-finger salute and smile number four to SeaTac. He's been in the corner of my mind for the last few minutes, and his presence both reassures and escalates.

    To Dog, I say, "I'm with August." The little sausages I have in my hand are cooling. I lean into August and plant a small kiss for luck on both cheeks.

    Then I, too, saddle up in August's H-bike. The thrumming between's one's legs is almost distracting. "It's been a while for me." Further innuendo-laden banter wouldn't be productive, but I'm thinking it. The smoke from the lighthouse is heavy, and I hope August has a mask or something like Dog's in here. I poke a nose into the saddlebags, hoping for some protection from the wet. Whatever I find is better than nothing, which is where I am now.

    That second explosion's light is still on my face. "I'm not precisely a heavy hitter here, Dog." I indicate my knives, snug in their places, then make a moue of 'what can you do?' with my face, eyebrows and hands. "Can I carry anyone out riding bitch better than just for Glover back?" I jerk a thumb at the empty seat behind me.
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