- scapheap -
[Navigation - 5] You head back to the con and order the helmsman to set course for one of the normal patrol routes. The trip is uneventful, and you soon reach the navigation point just off the coast of Normandy. [Detection - 4] You ping several surface contacts, apparently a flotilla of some kind. The sonar operator places the number of ships between 3 and 4, as the vessels are traveling in close order. Definitely a supply convoy of a sort. He identifies one of the vessels as an escort ship, and the other three as simply 'gigantic', possibly transports of some kind, though there is no way to be sure. The sonar operator is still working on identifying the ships' nation of origin, and it'll take him about two turns to cross-reference the silhouettes and find out. [First Officer - 1] The first officer stares at the weapons console, clearly pretending to be busy.
- GreatWyrmGold -
[2] You cut loose with a burst of SMG fire and miss cleanly. [1v1v1] You backpedal away from the Guard swinging the knife and trip on a body you didn't see, your SMG falling from your hands as you land hard in the dirt. The African Guard trips on a different corpse, landing headfirst and knocking himself out for one turn, his blade slipping from his grasp as his world goes black. Gio continues fumbling the magazine, [Wound - 2] until he eventually falls unconscious due to blood loss. You suspect he'll succumb to his wounds in about six turns.
- Xantolos -
[1] You risk a glance out into the intersection to see if you can spot any stray weapons lying on the ground amongst the wrecked fighting vehicles, and nearly get your head blown off for your trouble. [5] You fuck it as fast as you can across the road in the direction of the harbour, dodging gunfire like a madman. You haven't even broken a sweat by the time you make it across, and you decide not to stop running until you see the ocean.
You reach the sea in a few minutes, pulling the fresh, salted air in and out of your lungs after managing to shake the commandos back at the intersection. The harbour is a battlefield, and green-suited commandos are swarming the docks and yards in an attempt to storm what vessels that haven't already been reduced to a burning wreck or escaped out to sea. You're busy taking in the carnage when you hear a startling THUMP. A shockwave rips through the air and sends you sprawling to the concrete. You look up just in time to see a fifty thousand ton battleship, a steel meteor, come screaming from the sky and crash into a docking crane, toppling it like an oversized domino and landing with an audible crunch amongst a cluster of storage warehouses, which themselves erupt into massive fireballs. You stay where you fell, mouth agape. The sound of collective shouting breaks your daze, and you spot your crew aboard your ship, fighting off commandos as they try to clamber aboard the vessel. Those that aren't struggling with the boarders are waving in your direction and hollering with all their might.