Endgame

"I don't know where you're from, but those not from these parts don't really bother marking us on any maps." The voice from atop the guard tower hollers out. She sounded less than happy, but her aim didn't waver, evidenced by the static red dot still on the hood of the skiff. "All those suits give a shit about is hydrocobalt and fuel!" "Now, hey hey, let's not go pushing an agenda on our visitors," the first guardsman laughs. "You, my friends, have stumbled upon Vurenia." The guardsman, blaster still very much drawn, walks over to one of the antennas, and knocks on it with his knuckles. "Now, this here is a pretty solidly built thing. Some kinda antenna? You guys driving out here to catch the Blastball game? Or maybe you're trying to ping Savior City polic, so they can just fly by and bomb us off the map. The map they never put us on," he chuckles dryly. "Now, you understand the security risk of letting you guys just mosey in with whatever and do whatever and all that. So are you going to tell me plainly exactly what the hell these things are, so we can stay nice and polite, or no?"

"Enson, wait, this isn't even our..." Decker says exasperatedly as he rushes off. Decker vaults out of the sled and looks for any misshapen lumps in the snow. "Sigrun, do you have anything magnetic? Like a compass or something? I'm asssumin' the part we are looking for is metal..."

"Sounds like you have places to be. Don't let me down." Glenn ties the skiff's together and Soren returns to the piloting seat, as the agents head out for Point C. As they drive along, the air started to... reek of slatwater. Normally the smell was pleasant enough, but the environmental factors, the decay, the trash and waste mounting up... Before the water was even visible, it could be smelled. The Gate Collapse was not kind to Corvanis. Not remotely. Sure enough, signs of human civilization begin to appear. Spikes and speed bumps stuck into the sand appear, spreading out for miles, stopping speeders from just cruising through and over. They were designed to funnel travelers down a specific path, to what the party recognizes to be a checkpoint of some sort, outside of a wasteland settlement. The gate was made of mudbrick, cobbled together but reinforced and rebuilt over time. The stone had actually been ground smooth by sandstorm after sandstorm. There was a single guard at the ground level, and from the top of the tower, a red dot from a laser sight focuses on the windshield and traces up the side of the skiff. The ground level guard casually saunters up to the side of the skiff, placing one hand on the edge. He had a pretty casual air to him, distinct from the clear warning sign that they guardsman in the tower was trying to send. "Hey, lady and fellas, you people new around here? I've been manning this gate for a while and have never seen something like you three roll through. Mind telling me a little bit about what brings ya here?"

"...I'm not opposed, just in the theory of it," Decker hazards. "I don't think it is for certain that there's any sort of toxins or herbs in the wastes that can help us do a number on the gator. I almost feel like the signal flares and rope alone is enough for us to even the battle out, especially know that I don't need to run up and whack it with a pistol." Decker casually tosses the boomerang up in the air, and it comes back to him, moreso by virtue of gravity and not because of its boomerang-ness. "Although, I guess the idea of luring it with a carcass alone might be sufficient? And unless we can go back to one of our previous battles and pluck a Frost Hawk out of the snow we need to fight a new battle. My vote remains on going to the Wastes."

MM Note: Hi Sixers - 24 hour delay, you'll be heading to Point C tomorrow!

Decker wakes up, wounds mended and body refreshed. Not a bad night's sleep at all, considering the circumstances. Stepping back out into the brisk tundra air, he gets the chance to appreciate snow again. He found it so beautiful yesterday, until he started pistol whipping people left and right. Now that the din of battle had faded he could look around and take in the scenery again. He pats himself down and confirms that, yes, he still had the loaned boomerang. Phew. "I think we ought to go to the Wastes. Maybe if we can figure out what the hell is getting all these animals so worked up we would have a better chance contendin' with big, mean, and scaly."

MM Note: So he did! You'll all have the 1 HP returned to you. Y'all still scratched up the paint, though. Valesia wasn't one for technology, but she could still exercise a little bit of insight whilst listening... Insight Check: (4, 2, 4, 1) 2 successes vs DC 3 check: Failed Valesia can't quite crack the code or discern the exact pattern, but has a vague hunch that the long and short beeps are not entirely random. At the question, Glenn pulls out two final items from his bag: a pistol and a flare gun. "I'll be fine. I need to be here at my terminal to nail this thing's source down. And I'd barely call this equipment portable, so I can't go with you folks anyway. Believe it or not I do have a little bit of experience with a firearm," he says gruffly. "If I crack the signal's source, which you shouldn't expect me to do until you set up both antennas, or I end up getting gnawed on my Molgerawns, I'll fire off a signal flare. Watch the sky for blue smoke and double back here if and when you see it. Preferably with a little haste, especially if the Molgerawn scenario comes up." "I agree you are. The paint job may not," Glenn says gruffly. Maybe he was just making a joke. "I'm bunkering up here, if that's what you mean by splitting up. If you folks want to divide into teams and head to Points C and D separately, I mean, you could, but at that point one of you would be going solo, and that could be awful dangerous. Wouldn't really recommend it. These wastelands ain't friendly. If you decide to stick together just take both skiffs to one place, or I can tie 'em together and you can tow one again, if only one of ya feels like driving." "Not horrible intuition, boy. Just as a reminder, Point C is by the water, and Point D is by the derelict sub. Each skiff has a device with the coordinates coded into it that'll ping as you approach the spot you need to set up the transponder. That's literally all the device can do, though. Don't expect a state of the art nav system. Corvanis Comms doesn't have the budget for those kinda of bells and whistles."

Glenn grits his teeth as the party puts their plan into motion. It was now or never, with the outcrop of rock rapidly approaching! The start of the tricky maneuver all hinges on Soren being able to pull off the turn properly. He takes the controls and makes a hard left, the suspension in the skiff screeching as the turn is made: Proficiency Check: Piloting (5, 5, 6, 2, 3) 3 successes vs DC 2: the turn is made! Proficiency Check: Piloting Pt. 2 (1, 1, 2, 5, 4) 1 successes vs DC 2: ...a bit roughly! Soren manages to avoid head on collision with the rock for the front skiff. It's not the cleanest turn in the world, and the action jostles the party around a bit, causing them to sustain a bit of minor bruising. Next up was Valesia. Soren's turn had averted loss of life but the cargo didn't have hands to hold onto the guard rails with. Channeling her connection with Nature Valesia casts Mystic Binding: Spell Check: (5, 1, 6) 2 successes, vines bind tightly to all cargo! Even in the wastelands Valesia's power functions. Vines spring into action and coil around the antenna, locking them into place well enough. Now there was only the question of the back skiff: the front skiff's cargo was protected by Soren's driving and Valesia's vines, but the sharp turn caused the towed vehicle to swing towards the outcrop of rock: Maximilian's talent with his shield projector would have to bail out the back skiff. Maximilian's Strength Check: (5, 5, 6): 3 successes vs DC 2, the shield projector and Maximilian hold strong! Maximilian's experience with the shield projector manages to protect the swerving towed skiff. It scrapes against the rock and sprays sparks, suffering a bit of chipped paint, but otherwise makes it through unscathed. Other than getting a bit jostled, the agents cooperated and made it around the obstacle and out of the storm. They all gain 1 character point from the experience. The Agents Maximilian Vetre (Alix)44 cycles old Male ElfCharacter Points: 1/11Vitality: 5/6Velocity: 2Strength: 3Skill: 2Smarts: 1Proficiencies: Explosives 2, Occult 1, Short Range Weapons 2Credits: 10Equipment: D-KA Carbine (Standard Kinetic Short Range Weapon), Rampart Kinetic Shield (Standard Kinetic Armor), Energy CellInventory: EmptyLocker: Empty Valesia (Waterbrick Down)110 Year Old Female CladrasithCharacter Points: 1/14Vitality: 4/5Velocity: 2Strength: 1Skill: 2Smarts: 1Spirit: 2/3Proficiencies: Insight 1, Medicine 1, Nature 3Known Spells: Elemental Evocation, Healing Light, Mystic Binding, Photonic ManipulationCredits: 65Equipment: Holo-scroll, Chef's Kit (Standard Kinetic Melee Weapon)Inventory: Ætherbrew, Essence of Precaution, Plasma Potion Locker: Soren Aeolus (The Legonater) 31-year-old male Human Character Points: 2/16 Vitality: 4/5 Velocity: 2 Strength: 1 Skill: 3 Smarts: 2 Spirit: 2 Proficiencies: Nature 1, Insight 1, Piloting 2, Short-Range Weapons 2 Spells: Elemental Evocation, Mystic Binding Equipment: MK-12 personal handgun (short-ranged calibrated energy weapon), Farsight Goggles, Hacking Chip, Plasma Potion Credits: 10 Glenn signals when to stop as the agents escape the storm. "Here, pull over here, son." Glenn, too motivated for his own good, begins to set up his camp. He requires a bit of help to get the tent and his computer terminal out of the skiff, but otherwise is quickly set up. He rolls out his shoulders. "I'm sore, but aren't I always, and the paint job on one of the skiffs got marked up, but that thing always looked like it came out of a dump. We made back the time we lost by your pilot droid being late, so I would say that was a pretty worthwhile endeavor, going through that storm. Thanks for not getting us killed." "If you recall the map I showed you before, we're at Point A right now. You need to take the skiffs and set up the antenna at points C and D to-" " .. -. ...- .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- / .-- .- .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- --- - .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- . ...- . .-. .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- " Glenn's barely portable field terminal begins beeping and chittering. The signal, again. "...We're closer. We can hear it more, maybe hear it better..."

Decker looked rather amazed at the demonstration, accepting the boomerang after witnessing Polaris' trick shot. "Well... Magic, mind reading, technology, it'll help me out, and I want ya to know I appreciate the generosity. Thanks." "I'm feeling like bedding down, to be frank. It's been a helluva day."

MM Note: Attempting to turn is certainly a valid action with the Piloting proficiency, but it'll be a high DC without some teammate help. The way you turn and whether you brake/speed up/etc. is also important. This is open ended! Also take into consideration that when turning you have another skiff being dragged behind you, so protecting that and the cargo is important as well when you're formulating a plan.

"Hey. We all have specialties. Long as you're good at somethin', ain't no shame." "I hope you can show that your confidence is warranted, boy. You're transporting some important comms equipment, and, more importantly, us. Don't forget that. If you're going to be doing the piloting, I'll hitch one skiff to the other and just let you drive the whole thing. When you're navigating the rest of the Wastelands you can split 'em back up if you really feel like it." After some finagling with the tow wire, the agents and Glenn are soon pulling out of the Corvanis Comms garage space, into the city proper before passing through the city's outermost wall. They drive through the wastelands, the city fading into the horizon behind them, as they pass under the storm cluster... Under the storm cell, visibility suffers. The party is buffeted by grains of sand being sprayed about. It was truly surreal, driving on the seafloor made desert. Sometimes, in the smog and sand and darkness, the fossilized remains of sea life could be seen, littering the empty ocean basin. As the party cruised along with Soren at the wheel, thunder rumbling, the party sees an obstacle quickly manifest into view. A tall outcrop of rock, hidden in the swirling storm, right in front of where the skiff was heading towards! The outcrop of rock looked too sturdy to just plow through. Some sloped stone was to the outcrop's right, and flat sand to its left. The party still had some space between them and the rock, giving them some time to Try Something before disaster struck. The distance was great enough that with good reactions slamming the brakes would avoid any fatalities, but damage to the skiffs and the cargo and the riders would be inevitable if that action was taken. "Agents! The rock!!" MM Note: To be clear, everyone can use their items, spells, weapons, proficiencies, etc. here, not just Soren! I've specified a framework for the situation, but it is up to the rest of you to Try Something and avoid heavy damage.

Deckers gives the boomerang a few cursory tosses in his hand before double taking at Polaris' words. "Wait, you're not actually serious, are ya?" Decker paused and cleared his mind to try to see if the boomerang was accessing it, but mostly just felt a sense of general unease.

"Hey, those have value," Decker laughs. "Granted, I'm not jealous of Sigrun one bit, I'd hate that level of attention, but when Mercury Bolton intercepted that throw right in front of the net during the 49th Championship Match? You better believe I wanted to know what was going through his head. That moment was awesome. I still can't believe they didn't just run it." Decker stops geeking out for a moment to re-compose himself. "Right, well..." "How soon do we have until nightfall, you think? Are we gonna have to set up camp at any point?" Decker cracks his knuckles. "If there's a next time we tangle with that gator, I can think of a few ways we can debilitate it. Pop a flare in front of its face, blind it, tie up those stupid jaws with the rope, and whack the hell out of it." "But we should probably keep a move on. What's next, Guffa Flats or Skelfing Wastes?"

"Trust me, you won't have more for this whole thing. When we set up camp I'm staying there to monitor the signals as you set up the antennas. As for the set up, yes, just stand 'em up and throw the lever. I was up all last night doing the configurin'." "Appreciate it. Let's turn those words into actions." Glenn removes a map from his pocket. "Here's the scoop. We're currently in the Savior City. I would like for us to make it to Point A, where I can set up my equipment and triangulate this signal. My tent and all my computer crap is already in one of the skiffs. The only issue is that a big ol' storm system has reared it's ugly head right outside the city limits. It's right above our direct path to Point A. We can drive through it, it might just take some gumption and some driving skills. Failing that, we can detour to Point B - I have it marked to the West of A, but bound East would do - but there's a catch. The storms drive off all the nasty critters in the wasteland near the city limits. We'd basically be trading one problem for another. Beasties become less of an issue the further out into the wasteland you go. When we get to Point A, you'll have to go to both Point C and Point D to set up the antennae. As for what I know about each, one's near a body of water, so there's likely a settlement nearby. I sure as hell wouldn't drink from that irradiated crap. Point D, if I got the coordinates right, is near a derelict submarine. Sometimes scrappers gather to pluck parts off the carcass but they're pretty harmless. When we get camp set up and get the two antennae going in the right spot, we'll be able to determine the exact location of the signal source and check it out. Does this all make sense? And if it does, what's the plan?"

Enjoying myself for sure! Real life issues have kept me occupied but I think I should be clear from here on out. Decker assessed the wound on his arm, comparing the size of the gashes in his arm to the teeth of the gator. "Yeah, let's at least regroup before we get snacked on." Decker opts to Flee. "We do still eventually need to come back and wallop this thing, though, to fully clear the track, right? If we flee now, we could assess our situation, gather materials from elsewhere, and return to put this thing in its place. For now though... Live to fight another day, and all that."

"Don't worry about it, son, I don't know what day of the week it is half the time either. And I'm the punctuality stickler guy. As for your theory, well, kind of. Maybe. Awh, hell, I need to sit down for this one." Glenn shakes his head and walks over to the edge of a storage crate, sitting down and stroking his beard. "There was an old boogeyman that haunted us - all of us - during the Five Years War. A warbot that went by the name of Invictus." Just saying the name seemed to make Glenn's mood sour. He spoke it like he was spitting the word on the ground. "Invictus was... Well, in a war that was really just between two sides, Invictus was a wild card. League army, Empire soldiers, it didn't matter who it was, Invictus seemed to want them dead. To this day we're still tallying things, but the body count Invictus racked up? It's high. I don't even want to know the exact number." "The good news is, is that the bastard is dead. When the Gate collapsed and blew up, he was caught in the blast, reports said. He was apparently aboard an Empire ship only a few miles away from the Gate itself. Vaporized and gone in an instant. Only good thing about the entire thing if you ask me." "Invictus had a calling card before he descended upon the battlefield. Static. Communications would jam, weapons would fail, and all of a sudden all hell would break loose when he made himself known. There's a few men and women out there who just the sound of digital static is enough to scare them outta their skin... I can't imagine what Invictus' survivors must feel. He didn't leave a whole lot." Glenn reaches into his vest pocket and gets out a cigar and a lighter, and sparks up. "So you can see what I mean by 'ominous contents' now, fully. There's a lot of sickos out there who looked up to Invictus. He got blown to bits years and years ago, and sometimes deeply, deeply misguided people like to dredge up that monster's memory for one reason or another."

"The Wastelands are... part marsh, part dessert. They used to be the oceans on Corvanis, what we'll be trekking across used to be the sea floor. The gate collapse did one hell of a number on this planet. Blasted all of the water clean off the planet surface, and it all came back as these damn storm systems. It's... Well, I grew up in the Nendara system. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just a grumpy old codger, but I think it's VERY fair to say that this place ain't what it used to be." "Settlements. Yes. Some people who refuse to work in or under the Savior City have taken to establishing small villages around what little bodies of water are left. They're part of the reason that'll I'll be going with you to the Wasteland to set up camp and monitor the signal, but I won't be going with you for the majority of the job. The people out there... Do NOT take kindly to the corporations that run this city. You're agents, you don't work for one of the big firms in this own, you'll be fine. Me? If they find out I work for Corvanis Comms, they'll put a plasma slug between my ears."

"Perhaps the skills will transfer then. Driving through the city isn't too bad today but the wasteland will pose some hazards." Upon being asked about the Day of Desolation Glenn grows somber. "You aren't... From around these parts, are you, boy? Amazing how quickly people forget. That's why we need a holiday for it, I suppose. Does the Nendaran Gate Collapse ring any bells, or do I owe you three a history lesson?"

"How we gonna cross the ice flow with this nipping at us?" Decker contends. "Sigrun, do you think you can navigate around this thing? Danger avoidance, right?"

"If it is a prank it's a very cruel one, but strange, strange people come crawling out of the woodwork around this time of the year every year on Corvanis. I wouldn't put it past some punk squatting in the wastelands who is hiding from the city police, to pull something like this. We at Corvanis Comms have dealt with some weird situations, but never one all the way out in the wastelands like this. And the police force won't lift a damn finger to help. Thus... You people." "I share your hopes. And I don't think you're entirely off the mark. But just in case we- hey, son, you gonna be able to stay standing?" Glenn looks past Maximilian and sees Felix looking unwell. Glenn briefly pulls him aside to talk and then Glenn returns. Just Glenn. "Something must've come up for Felix, seemed like he had to go. The pilot droid will be taking him back. That damn robot is going to get paid rather handsomely by Corvanis Comms... despite his tardiness. Hopefully three will suffice," Glenn sighs. "Well, agents, let's get a move on. The company garage is at the base of this tower." Felix has left the party. The group follows Glenn to an elevator. The glass panes, caked with smog, still give a decent view of the hustle and bustle of the city. Although the movement was neverending, Glenn seemed unimpressed. "Hm. Always gets slow around here around this time of year. Guess more companies are starting to give workers the Day of Desolation off. ...Good for them." A few more winding corridors and Glenn reaches a metal shutter with the Corvanis Comms logo on it. He reaches down, and with some effort, the undead communications expert heaves the door open. "Hrrrngh!" Glenn grunts, rubbing his back. "These damn bones worked better when I was still alive. Well, agents, this is the garage space that Corvanis Comms rents out. We store all of our service vehicles here, for when we have to do field work around the city. And although they haven't been used in a while, we have a couple company vehicles made for the wasteland..." Glenn motions to the two Desert Skiffs parked in the garage, strange and bulky communication antennas harnessed to each. The vehicles were caked with sand and grime. "These are our rides. Anyone ever driven one of these clunkers before? Actually, any of you got piloting experience?"

Decker feels the magic mending his wounds, and looks at his arm in awe. "...Geez, Enson, this is some..." He cuts himself off. "I'll marvel later. Ronin, I'll take point." Decker defends Ronin.

"Ominous contents, well." Glenn pauses, choosing his words carefully. "I've been losing sleep trying to riddle this damn thing out. I put out a bulletin begging ship captains to record the signal if and when they hear it, but, well, it's been hit or miss on accumulating data. I've gotten fragments of words at best from it. My wager is that the signal is one of five things... a cry for help, a warning, a threat, or - and these last two will sound out of place, but I think they might be most likely - a ritual, or a prank." "It's en masse. If there's a rhyme or reason to who is getting what signal, it's too complicated for this old brain, I'll tell you that much. They're putting this out for anyone to hear." "Unfortunately, despite my efforts, no. That is where you folks come in. I plotted and traced out the signal as much as I could, and narrowed it down to a frankly too big swathe of wasteland. Your mission will ential setting up additional broadcast equipment in the wasteland itself. I custom-tuned some antennae to hopefully pick up our mystery signal and nothing but. Long story short, if we get it all set up, we'll be able to triangulate the signal and narrow it down to a 1 mile radius instead of a hundred mile radius. Make sense?"

For the first time in his very brief Heroica career, Decker sustains damage. Quite a bit, in fact, the gator's jaws clamping down on his left elbow, puncturing his armor. "HRrrrrngh!" he hisses, not having taken a hit like that in quite a while. He moves up to A2 and Defends himself in case the gator comes back for another taste. "Wanted to go in and take a whack at it... Learned my lesson there..."

MM Note: Moving things along for now. @Khorne, i can give you another 24 hours before I have to move you back to the Hall - hope everything is alright on your end! Kayarr chuckles lightly hearing the crew talk about violence, and their affinity (or lack thereof) for it, but is too focused on landing to otherwise weigh in on toomuch. The Savior City was blanketed by storm clouds, and as the Initium swooped in to dock, the party could see the windows of the craft cloud up with smog. The culprit was surely the hundreds of factories, billowing all sorts of smoke into the air. The building that the ship was docking at was near the city limits. It was a vast tower with multiple levels and multiple balconies, all for docking. This particular docking station seemed to be moreso for small-scale professional use; the agents could see a massive highway flooded with transport vehicles, likely carrying important cargo. The ship docks and the landing ramp deploys, and waiting for them at the bottom is a man with a furrowed brow. A bushy white beard and cracked, gray skin. From just the look of him, the man had all the signs of being among the undead. "Droid in the back. Were you the pilot? You're late," the man remarks, voice hoarse and gravelly. "All drop-off estimates are plus or minus 90 minutes to account for travel delays, sir," Kayarr chirps happily, as if that was a line that he had rehearsed and happily delivered many times. "No matter. Agents, I'm Glenn Harmondron, your contact. Seeing as your pilot plays fast and loose with scheduling I decided to join you out at the dock instead of having you try to find my office. This damn tower is a labryinth anyway, we'd have another two dozen reports about that damn signal that's going off before you even found me." Glenn beckons the agents to follow him as he begins to walk away. "Come. We have much to discuss. We're walking to my personal hangar right now. I would've had the droid drop you off closer to the job site, but with the atmosphere on Corvanis near the wastelands, high flying shuttle ships like that... Simply not safe. We'll be taking ground based transportation." "I'm sure you have questions about the nature of this mission. Ask them now."

MM Note: Hi folks, just waiting on final confirmations. I'll be moving this along tomorrow if not.