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Endgame

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  1. Endgame
    A transmission comes in, and from the console behind the jobs board, a small printout is churned out, the ink still fresh and smudgy. Current Sign-Ups For Mission Six Varen (KotZ) Felix (Khorne) Valesia (WBD) Maximilian (Alix) Sign Ups close in 3 days.
  2. Endgame
    Decker nods. "Ah, definitely not one of your... stature?" The man says, trying not to be rude. "Cut me some slack here, I'm really sorry. I thought just seeing snow for the first time today would be the craziest thing." "Although, hold on, hallucinations? What causes those? Disorientation I get, getting spun around with all that wind whipping here n' there makes perfect sense but.... Well, damn. Between you and Aysu I'm learning there are worse places than the desert. As for cutting losses, well, that wouldn't include us now, would it?"
  3. Endgame
    Decker double takes when what he thought was a housecat addresses him. He had forgotten what planet he was on. "Oh! You... You talk," he stammers out. "Ah. Of course you talk, heh. Why wouldn't ya. Anyway, yeah, not too bad of scrap. Just a flock of frost hawks. You must be a guide, right? You're probably all sorts of familiar with them then. Anything else you think we should be on the lookout for in particular?"
  4. Endgame
    Decker wrings the frost out of his gloves again, grateful for a chance to return to the warmth. His nose scrunches up at the smell of the stable. Eurgh, not all new sensations were good. The desert-goer walks over to what was seemingly a house cat in a fluffy parka and reaches out to pet it, not yet realizing what species he may actually be dealing with. "Hey bud, dealing with the cold okay?"
  5. Endgame
    Decker knew he didn't really have any expertise here, but he watched with a combination of interest and... mild disgust. "Is Heroica work normally this, ah... gutsy?"
  6. Endgame
    "Food usually isn't in surplus in climates this... gnarly," Decker says, tracing a line in the snow with his boot. The snow and wind soon hide the mark. "I come from the heat, but I feel like the same kinda thing applies. Something is wrong here if those birds were so overstuffed. Food ain't easy pickings." Decker drummed his fingers on his sheathed pistol. "Unless we wanna cut one of these guys open and see what they've been snacking on, we ought to go see the guides, no?"
  7. Endgame
    Decker steps back and watches as Ronin's katana shreds through the last frost hawk. He nods in approval and then casually steps over the corpse of the Frost Hawk he felled. "Would you look at that," he says morosely, holstering his pistol. "Not bad at all fellas. Not bad at all." Decker thinks for a moment on Enson's words. "Or maybe they are just that ornery? These things had an attitude on 'em," Decker shrugs, watching his team members pluck the birds dry. "Or maybe something got them all riled up. Displaced by setting up the track, maybe. Or worse... Something bigger and nastier than these critters."
  8. Endgame
    (Went to a concert last night! Things got hectic.) Decker takes another swing, this time glancing the skull of the Frost Hawk. It was enough to ground the beast, a plenty large enough window for Decker to swing again and deliver a decisive mode. Rolling out his shoulder, Decker runs to F3 and rallies Polaris. "C'mon, you can do this! Show 'em what you got."
  9. Endgame
    Decker grunts in frustration as his wild swing misses its mark, but when the puff of snow clears he sees that his compatriots Ronin and Aysu felled their targets. "Ronin! Aysu! That's how you do it." Decker throws a thumbs up before grabbing his pistol and taking another savage swing towards the head of Frost Hawk F.
  10. Endgame
    Decker glances over, flips up the visor of his helmet to reveal his face, smirks, and waves. His visage was... that of a 24 year old man's. Not the most secretive thing in the world, one supposes, not that the scrapper seemed like one for too many secrets. "Hey, don't want to expose too much do the elements, aye?" Decker re-evaluates and realizes he ought to be standing his ground. He plants his feet and still swings at Hawk F.
  11. Endgame
    Pistol whipping for life!
  12. Endgame
    Decker double takes as he sees winged shadows descend over the snow. "Aw, hell, guys, these things look quick!" He unholsters his gun, levels it at the nearest Frost Hawk, and then remembers. "...Aw, right." Decker moves to H4 and takes a swing at Frost Hawk F.
  13. Endgame
    Decker let out a low whistle. "And I thought me and ma had a rough time being scrappers on Akharif. At least there was an atmosphere around us when we worked.. I guess you gotta be thankful for what you got, huh?" Decker flipped up his mask to take a sip of the coffee, shuddering a bit. "Oh. Oh yeah. That's the stuff." "I'm good with Enson's plan too. Although I'd say we ought to run it past the guides? If they give us the thumbs up I'd say we're golden." "Mervin, any gut feeling on who you think we ought to be bringing along? Noted on the Geomi thing, although I gotta tell ya, I probably feel the same way he does sometimes."
  14. Endgame
    "I'll have to take the strong coffee," Decker says. He wasn't quite certain that anything that could get him boozed up on a new planet was the brightest idea. "So the guides. They know how to protect themselves? Their help will be much appreciated, but if we encounter anything gnarly I want to know if they know how to defend themselves."
  15. Endgame
    (Just a quick note - Decker bankrupted himself for a Plasma potion!) The planet looked almost like a palette swap of what Decker was used to, looking down from the shuttle window as the ship entered upper atmosphere. A burning Akharif orange exchanged for a muted white, particles being wind whipped across the planet surface. But what Decker wasn't prepared for was the snow. Walking from the shuttle to the tundra hopper, watching the flakes storm down... The scrapyard scrounger looked at the snow with a noticeable amusement. He had one hand outside the tundra hopper as it zoomed along, letting the frost collect on his glove. When they got to the tavern, Decker held his hand up to the infrared lamp and watched the frozen sheen on his glove melt into water. Fascinating. "Aye, I think that's us." Decker nods to the Cricet. "Is this kinda weather the norm around here? I can see how a race track could get untidy." Decker turns to his fellow heroes. "Enson, we've traded names. Polaris, we crossed paths too. Ronin, how the hell are ya. And you with the pink hair... I don't know if I catched your name?"
  16. Endgame
    Decker wandered through the trade bazaar, looking at each individual item - and then feeling a kick in the gut when he saw the price tag. Maybe I shouldn't have blown all my credits on extra leg space on the shuttle ride to Ebria station. Nevertheless, aware of the dangers of his mission, Decker purchases a single plasma potion. 10 credits Minus 10 credits Means Decker has 0 credits to his name.
  17. Endgame
    Hold my own in a fight, huh, Decker thinks to himself, hand going to his waist. His gun was, well, not much of a gun at the moment, but it still had some solid heft to it. It'd work. Hopefully. "Holding my own in my fight and skilled in my area of expertise.'Fraid that is sort of the same thing, as far as I'm concerned." Decker chuckles. "As for what brings me here, well, there's only so much desert a man can take in a lifetime. I didn't mind the lifestyle. I just needed... Something new, I suppose. Heroica seemed like a ticket for that. They cover the tab for travel, y'know. As for whether I'm good at this heroism thing, I guess we're due to find out eventually."
  18. Endgame
    "Ensonvilter - sorry, Enson just rolls off the tongue a bit easier," Decker clasps his hand around Enson's and gives it a firm shake. The gritty sands of Akharif had permanently scuffed up his gloves, leaving them similarly rugged. "Decker DaCabe. Formerly of Akharif, evidently of Heroica nowadays." Decker retracted his hand back and picked his mug back up. "You been on one of these missions yet? How's the work look? I'm a bit green myself."
  19. Endgame
    Good call, fixed.
  20. Endgame
    "I'll bite, how big are these things, anyway?" Decker holds out his arms, displaying his full wingspan. "'Bout here, or? And, geez, every couple of decades, huh? Whatever sporting events I could catch on the radio back on Akharif were a touch more frequent. As well as a little more, uh, rowdy." "Gladiatorial" might've been the better word in Decker's case. "God, I wish I was the genius who thought of pitting banged-up mining machines against each other to decommission 'em. I'd be rolling in credits." Decker raised his mug seeing his name flicker on screen after Enson's bout of percussive maintenance. "Aye, much obliged."
  21. Endgame
    Decker cracks his knuckles, and then heads up to the mission board. Keying in his name, he signs up for Mission #5: Slay Ride. Grabbing a barstool, he thinks on the nature of the request itself, and the requirements. "Sled-wyrms are a thing?" he muses aloud. "Well, the desert got cold at night, but snow might be an adjustment..."
  22. Endgame
    I'm hoping to get in and host a fully canon mission for this new rulebook sooner than later. Also, Decker finally makes it to the Heroica statistical registry! And that joke about him forgetting to load his gun finally makes itself clear on his stat sheet. I think I got the stat allocation right, but I'd be happy to fix it if I didn't.
  23. Endgame
    Decker DaCabe (Endgame) 24 year old male Human Character Points: 0/19 Vitality: 7/7 Velocity: 2 Strength: 4 Skill: 3 Smarts: 1 Proficiencies: Melee Weapons 1, Short Range Weapons 2, Medicine 1, Perception 1, Athletics 1 Credits: 72 Equipment: Double Barrel Voltaic Shotgun (Calibrated Energy Short Range Weapon), Sandblasted Cuirass (Standard Kinetic Armor), Inventory: Unloaded Pistol (Calibrated Kinetic Melee Weapon),
  24. Endgame
    Decker blinks behind his visor and looks up, noting the first person to regard him in his new line of work. "Sorry, lost in my own head for a second there. Do we have business?" Decker asks, twirling the gun by the trigger around his finger. "I dig the shades." More interesting characters. If Decker had any prejudice against Chimerans, he didn't show it at first glance. The young mechanic lets his gaze linger on Miles as he talks. "This is Heroica, ain't it?" Decker picks up his gun and gently whacks it against the edge of the table, the pistol making a dull thud with each contact. "And I think my gun will do just fine. It's not useless, just... Repurposed." "Most people introduce themselves before offering to go ammo shopping." Decker stretches out a gloved hand, unsure if the Chimeran or robot would take it. "Decker. Pleased to meet ya."
  25. Endgame
    Two Years And Some Change Ago The Bucyria-288 was one of the most impressive strip mining machines on Akharif... about a decade ago. Alas, even the mightiest terraforming machine could do nothing but weep and rust as it was pushed into obsolescence. The Bucyria-293, the Cogwheel, the Sandripper - newer, sexier models replaced the old brute. And so, the mining corporations were forced to figure out what to do with their old toys. Some of the 288s were broken down for parts. Others were melted down for scrap. One particularly lucky one was being shipped across the cosmos to go in a museum. But most were simply left to rot in the desert, and rot they did, gems creeping up their plating as they sank further down into the sand. In one remote little corner of Akharif, a young man huddled for safety in the corpse of one such retired mining titan. Outside he could hear electricity crackling, grains of sand roaring, air becoming ire. Electric sandstorms - only on Akharif. The young man was not particularly concerned for his safety. Why should he be, when his chosen shelter was designed to withstand a hundred thousand electric sandstorms? No. He was much more concerned that the winds and bolts outside were messing with his signal. He adjusted the antenna on his radio, intently trying to decipher the message through the static. Something about the upcoming passion project of one Laserie Ablis... Something about "Heroica...?" Now The doors swing open and Decker DaCabe enters Heroica Hall for the first time. Looking around at the other patrons, he simply grabs a stool and does what he always did - go through the checklist in his head. "In the right place, yep. Registration, done. Gun, check. Wrench, check. No need to be worried." He was right. The last two were all he ever needed to get this far in life.But something was nagging at him... Decker's blaster felt a little... light? He took out the magazine and inspected it. Ammo. Not check. "Oh, dammit..." Decker DaCabe has joined Heroica!
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