Lugh SonkenThe men stir as you prepare to depart.
Hey, thanks for not punching our heads off. One says with a completely straight face. Another actually leans down and takes your hand.
You seem like a nice guy. Good luck with your search, don't get killed okay? The tough guy climbs into the driver's seat and starts the truck.
The bazaars are a rough place, you might need this. Catch! He throws you something small and shiny.
Strange Badge get! He looks you in the eye and touches his brow with one finger, smirking winsomely.
See you around Sonken. I'll remember that name! The car turns to face the horizon, then spins rightward and accelerates, traveling in a southerly direction. You begin the short walk to the bazaar town.
You arrive at the edge of the settlement just as the sun is beginning to rise. You guess that it's getting on to mid-morning. It's still a bit too early to be finding people wandering around the streets in force, and only the stall vendors are outside setting out their wares for the afternoon. You inquire to several of the local merchants about "Dio" and "Sonken," thinking they would have picked up a rumor or two during their work, but not a single one of them seems to recognize the names.
Eric MortlockThe sun wakes you up, light streaming through a small window high on the wall that you didn't notice before. Your head throbs steadily and you groan softly before trying to sit up. The room starts spinning and you immediately lie back down again. You feel very cold, your wound opened up again during the night and the bandage is completely soaked with blood. You try again to get up, this time more slowly, and after about five minutes you somehow manage to force yourself upright. Using the sink to support yourself you carefully pull the kevlar vest back over your head. You wince as you jerk the straps as tight as possible, hoping the pressure will keep you from losing any more blood, then bend to retrieve your guns.
Slug Repeater Rifle recovered! Superheat Rod recovered! You notice all your guns have been reloaded. Beneath the bed you also find a glass bottle, which you take.
Mushroom Spirits get! This should help with your hangover.
You hear some kind of commotion from outside. You hear someone cry out and your heart drops into your stomach as you recognize who the voice belongs to. Gwinn must be in trouble, you feel some of your strength flowing back into you.
Cavendish "Boss the Cavalier" WalesYou poof yourself a flaming blue halo and step off the bridge without saying a word, to the chagrin of your crew.
Damn it to the sand there he goes again.. Crew this is Second, I need an escort for the Boss. Along halls of rugged metal surrounded by rumbling machinery you travel, the working men quickly making way for you until you reach the starboard embark, whereupon a soot-covered technician in burnt orange coveralls reverently lowers the boarding ramp for you. You trudge down the ramp and then uphill towards the crown of the nearby dune where the strafer came to rest, a small troop of 20 of your followers falling into step behind you. One of the men offers you a pistol holstered on a belt along with a bandolier full of carbox and you accept them both. The sidearm looks to be in slightly better shape than the rest of the pistols you have stocked on board the Earl.
Up close, you can now tell just how much of a patch job the strafer is. Somewhere in the neighborhood of a light aircraft, it's more than 12 meters long and fatter than a tundra boar. It's wide, flat wings are laden with 1cm plates placed haphazardly all across the fuselage. The nose engine is built in, but the two wing props are grafted on seemingly as an afterthought. From the four outer hardpoints are hung a set of 250lb bombs with some rather cheeky phrases etched into their cases: '
OPEN WIDE', '
Siegs Go Home!'. '
The Gentle Negotiator', '
Outrun This'.
A clunking sound draws your attention to the canopy. It jerks back and forth as the occupant attempts to open it. The glass is cracked and in places sand has leaked in, obscuring it totally. Only an extremely skilled or lucky pilot could make a perfect landing on instrumentation alone. You give a nod to your men and several of them clamber onto plane, positioning themselves to cover others while they force the canopy backward. A cloud of dust explodes out of the cockpit as it slams open, and your men gently pull the coughing, spluttering pilot from the ship. He recovers slightly and once they're satisfied he's unarmed and not going to fall down they allow him to step onto the wing of the plane, their weapons still trained on him. He waves a gloved hand in front of his face, beating the dust from his clothes with the other. The dirt on his face makes it hard to tell but you place him around his early thirties, somewhat short but of a lean build. Dirty blonde hair pokes out from beneath the leather cap he wears, and a set of glass goggles with wide lenses and a rubber strap are twisted around his wrist where he won't forget them. He stands there breathing loudly and squints in your direction, his skin is browned from exposure to the sun.
You in charge here, mate? He croaks, raising an eyebrow.
Kyle JohnsonYou slot the card into the console which locks into place.
Ident Card lost! You become aware of a steadily building whine as the mech's reactor warms up and you prudently pull the safety harness around your shoulders, clicking it into place. The instruments before you flicker to life and there's a rush of static and magnetic
clack as the machine's extremities receive power, a pair of joysticks flipping upward beside your hips. They float gently from the feedback and you grab them quickly before the mech can topple over. You twitch the controls with your hands, watching the mech respond before carefully guiding it outside.
The bulky vehicle is not quiet and the desert is soon bathed in light as the camp comes to life behind you. You can hear the shouts of the surprised and confused Siegs as they attempt to organize themselves. You're continuing to gain distance from the camp, which is difficult because of the sand which slows you to a walk, when there's a bright flash in front of you followed by an angry red zap of energy that burns the air half a meter to your left. Damn! You forgot about the perimeter guards! You see him now, lying prone directly ahead of you. He's uninhibited by the darkness because of the powered goggles he wears, so if he missed at this distance his laser must be affected by the cold or the sand. No doubt the other pickets positioned around the camp are moving into position on your flanks as well.
Name: Lugh Sonken
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Human
Appearance: Well fed. Keeps a shaved head and beard. He sports a ratty collared leather jacket with an image of a snake emerging from turtles shell on the back and a grimy pair of shades.
Ambition: HE'S going to be the man to conquer the world. Not those fucking Nazi pricks
Circumstances: He was born into a family of criminals and he spent his youth raiding and extorting various businesses within the slums of some coastal cities. People called them the "Land Locked Raiders" and they terrorized a certain costal city. Eventually a joint effort of vigilantes, bounty hunters, and rival criminals sought to snuff out the Sonken family once and for all.
All he has to his name is his leather Jacket, shades, and his trusty pair of cestus emblazoned with a steel and jeweled Sonken family emblem, a sun with a X made of two great spears. His great grandfather used to tell him that the Sonken family emblem represented some sort of artifact his ancestors apparently stole from an angry Sun God that swore revenge, and that its visage had some sort of mystical property. Ever since Lugh got his spark, he feels...closer to the gloves for some reason.
-
HoomanAlright!Stuff -
Ratty Emblematic Leather Jacket, Old Jeans, Grimy Shades, Family CestusReddish Spice [valuable hallucinogenic powder; handful]
Strange Badge [a dull metal coin with an engraving of a spear piercing a hat]
Martial PyrosFlaming Fists
---
Name: Eric Mortlock
Gender: Male
Age: Mid 30's
Appearance: Wears black full body armor(up to neck), a quarter elf who has slightly elongated ears, and slight elven body structure, has ice blue eyes, and long brown hair. Armor is made out of thickish Kevlar.
Ambition: He recently escaped from the hell that was the Siegliech Empire. They abducted him and forced him into the military when he was a young man. He seriously disliked them for their torturing methods to keep him fighting in said godforsaken military. So he decided he was going to take them out. He realized he didn't stand a chance, so he became an alcoholic and drank away his problems.
-
Sub ElfShot!Stuff -
Kevlar Body ArmorBig Revolve Stubber [5/5 Big Slugs]
Bolero Custom [10/10 45. HVAP]
Slug Repeater Rifle [10/10 Slugs]
Superheat Rod [lostech quarterstaff; while active can melt through metal]
Big Slugs [5x]
Slugs [20x]
Mushroom Spirits
Power? ? ?
---
Name: Cavendish "Cavalier" Wales
Gender: Male
Age: 83
Race: Squishy hooman of course!! But with Metal reinforcements through most of their body.
Appearance: Smokin', naturally! But leaning on the side of wiry...
Ambition: What drives you to develop this strange new power?! Trained their entire life to be the best, and not going to let anything stop them now!
Circumstances: A veteran of countless battles, they have crossed the world to prove that they can save the noble natives.
Cav personally possesses a deceptively-light but dense-looking form which conceals various structural augmentations using a mysterious material that was installed early in their life when they volunteered as a test subject for an experimental program. Some unusual property of the material seems to retard the aging process, but sadly the site was apparently destroyed shortly after the procedure took place, and Cavalier was never informed as to precisely what the material was.
-
HoomanA-Okay!Reinforced SkeletonNo Wrinkles!Cavalier BossStuff -
Cavalier Bossman Long Coat, Cavalier Bossman Kepi Cavalier Bossman Proton Cutlass
Calibrated Laser Pistol [20/20]
- [10x] Carboxyde Cartridges
The Grey Earl -
Hover-Type Land Battleship, Range:Infinite Load:Massive[5x] Air/Ground Radar-Targeted Large Defense Lasers
[1x] Siege-Type Proton Beam
Dated Laser Rifles [∞]
Dated Laser Pistols [∞]
Carboxyde Cartridges [∞]
Scrap Alloy [10,000lbs]
Buddies1132 'Cavalier Cav' Desert Militants [Battle-Tested]
World PyrosUnharming Flame
---
Name: Kyle Johnson
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Half Hellhound
Appearance: The misguided, antisocial male half-Hellhound herbologist with unexpected depths. His hair and eyes are red. He appears as an 'humanized' version of his non-human parent, but it is an attractive, not monstrous appearance.
Ambition: Hehe, BURN THOSE FUCKING NAZIS THAT KILLED MY PARENTS. The world will be purified with flames.
Circumstances: On the coast near a small encampment of Seigs staking out the location for a raid.
-
Bastard HellhoundMade of Lava!Stuff -
Heatproof Combat Webbing, Heatproof GlovesGLINT Spot/Motion Binoculars
Precision Shoulder Laser [1000/1000]
- Carboxyde Superheavy Cartridges [1x]
Hi-Ex Self-Propelled Disc [2x; thrown, set for proximity/timed detonation]
Sieg Assault Mech -
Range:
Load:ModerateLeft Arm: 10 Cycles-Per-Shot (CPS) Small Pulse Laser
Right Arm: 20mm Autocannon [0/500]
Torso: ERROR NO MODULE
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Topic: Welcome to PKA!: Sandsurfing (Read 17318 times)